“Someone’s hungry. I’ve got bottles ready, but...” She hesitated, looking at me. “You’ve been pumping this whole time. She’s been drinking your milk. If you wanted to try nursing...”
Panic fluttered in my chest. I had never nursed before. At least, not that I could remember. What if I did it wrong? What if she wouldn’t latch? What if I hurt her somehow?
“I don’t know if I can,” I admitted, my voice small.
“That’s okay, sweetheart. I can help you. It’s the most natural thing in the world, but it takes practice.”
She guided me to a comfortable chair and helped me get positioned. Knox hovered nearby, clearly unsure if he should stay or go.
“Sit down,” I told him. “I want you here.”
He sat immediately, pulling a chair close so he could be right beside me.
Sarah showed me how to hold the baby, how to position her at my breast. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. And then, the moment I had her in the right position, my body just... knew.
My arms adjusted automatically, cradling her in a way that felt practiced and familiar. Because it was. I had done this before, I realized. With the twins. My body remembered even if my mind didn’t.
The baby latched immediately.
The sensation was strange and new and overwhelming. My daughter, feeding from my body. Taking nourishment that I was providing. It was the most intimate, primal thing I had ever experienced.
“Oh,” I breathed, staring down at her.
She was suckling contentedly, her little eyes closed, her tiny hand resting against my breast. She looked peaceful. Happy. Safe.
I looked up at Knox. He was watching us with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Awe, maybe. Love, definitely. His gray eyes were bright with unsuppressed emotion, and there was a smile on his lips, soft and reverent.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He shook his head, but the smile remained. “You’re just... you’re incredible, Lina. You know that?”
“I’m just feeding our baby.”
“Yeah.” His voice was rough. “And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I felt my face flush, but I didn’t look away from him. This man. My mate. The father of my children. The one who had waited for me, who had fought for me, who loved me even when I couldn’t remember to love him back.
The baby made a soft sound, drawing my attention back to her. She had stopped feeding and was looking up at me again with those big brown eyes. I shifted her to my shoulder without thinking, patting her back gently, and a moment later a tiny burp escaped her.
I blinked. I had done that automatically. Without instruction. My body just knew.
“Good girl,” I murmured, settling her back into my arms.
She yawned again, her eyes drooping. Within minutes, she was asleep, her little body warm and heavy against my chest.
I didn’t want to put her down. I wanted to hold her forever, to make up for every moment I had missed.
“What’s her name?” I asked suddenly. The question had been nagging at me, but I had been afraid to ask. Afraid that I should know. Afraid of what it would mean that I didn’t.
Knox and Sarah exchanged a look.
“We were waiting for you,” Knox said quietly. “We didn’t want to name her without you.”
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. “You waited?”
“Of course we waited. She’s your daughter too. You should have a say in what she’s called.”
I looked down at the sleeping baby in my arms. This tiny perfect person who had grown inside me, who I had brought into this world, who I would love and protect for the rest of my life.
