Smiling, I smooth the sweaty blond hair off her forehead. Her eyes are tired, but there’s a determination there too. “I want to watch. I don’t want to miss a single detail of this. You’re bringing our child into the world. Already, this is the most important thing I’ve ever been part of.”
She bites her lip. “Then don’t judge whatever else may happen down there.”
I laugh again. “I won’t, baby.”
An hour later, a tired, teary-eyed Salem gives one last push, and finally, our daughter comes screaming into the world, arms flailing, covered in goo. And she’s absolutely perfect.
Tears fall from my eyes of their own accord.
A nurse suctions stuff out of her mouth, then the doctor plops her onto Salem’s chest.
Salem sobs, patting the baby’s back and repeating “oh my God” over and over again.
I kiss her, murmuring, “I love you so much. Look what you did. Look how amazing you are.”
“She’s perfect,” she sobs. “Just look at her, Caleb.”
And I do.
I feel it then.
That I’m this little girl’s dad, not because she shares my DNA, but because I choose her.
“What are you thinking about?” Seda asks, playing with a strand of her blond hair.
She looks like a clone of her mother. I don’t see a trace of Thayer in her. Or perhaps that’s only wishful thinking on my part.
“How much I love you.”
She beams. “I love you too, Daddy. Mom said I can hang out with you all day if you’re free.”
“I’m always free for you.”
Even if I weren’t in Hawthorne Mills, if my girl called me and said she needed me, I wouldn’t hesitate to hop in the car and drive back to see her.
I swore I would be a different kind of parent to her than mine were for me. My parents weren’t inherently terrible, but they put a lot of pressure on me to be the best at everything. It was too much for a kid, and it’s my life’s mission to make sure Seda doesn’t have to experience that kind of overwhelming strain. If she’s happy, then that’s enough for me.
Seda smiles, her shoulders lowering in relief. “Good. Samson criessomuch. Mom says he’s teething.”
“He probably is. Remember how it hurts when your adult teeth grow in?” I ask, leaning forward a fraction. “Now try being a baby and not knowing what’s happening.”
“But he’s not a baby anymore,” she argues. “He’s almost two.”
“Yes, but he’s still a little guy, and he’s probably getting his molars. That’s gotta hurt. Have some sympathy.”
She frowns. “So should I get him a stuffie or something?”
Smiling, I lift a shoulder. “We could if you want. It might cheer him up.”
“Hmm.” She tilts her head. “I think we should. Oh, and Mom said you should come over for dinner. She’s making lasagna.”
“Sounds good. What should we do between now and then?”
Her blue eyes light up and she bounces in her seat. “Could we go to the mall?”
The mall is nearly an hour away,but it’s one of her favorite places. She isn’t old enough for makeup yet—though she’ll argue over that point—but that doesn’t stop her from perusing every store that sells the stuff.
I wind my straw wrapper around my finger absently. My dad once said it looked ridiculous for a man to use a straw in a restaurant. Dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Who knows how many people handle the outside of these glasses. It feels more sanitary this way.
