I met his eyes. Briefly, but enough to acknowledge the tenderness he’d shown. His expression bordered on desperate, like he was begging me to find any reason for him to stay. Like he was giving up a daughter of his own.
“Do you?”
Quinn smiled, then turned back to Nicolas and Juliana.
“Congratulations,” he replied, dodging the question. Then he went back through the door, leaving me to my family.
Nicolas settled into the chair Winnie had fallen asleep in, holding our baby close. “She’s so small.”
I smiled, leaning back into the pillows.
“I should’ve been here. I should’ve been the first man to hold her.”
“Technically, that honor fell to my father,” I amended, not sure if that would make things better or worse. Nicolas huffed, tracing Juliana’s cheeks.
“Your father,” he said flatly. Then he warmed again as Juliana yawned. “Oh, look at that! So cute…”
His eyes slowly went to the door.
“How long was Quinn here?”
I shrugged, uncertain myself. “I’d been holding her for a while when he showed up. Then I fell asleep. There’s no telling how long I was out for, though. It’s been dark since she was born.”
Peeking to the window, I could see that it was almost dawn. Time moved differently under duress.
“I wanted to be here for it. In the room with you, holding your hand or fetching towels. Being useful. Gods, why did I agree to a hunt?”
“We were bored,” I answered. “Besides, I think if you’d tried to hold my hand, I would have bitten your arm off.”
I certainly would have. I’d delivered a number of pointed insults and hysterical curses tonight.
“Well, I’m glad someone was here with you when you needed…” he trailed off, watching those tiny fingers flex. “You know, I’ve never held a baby. I really haven’t been around many at all, come to think of it. They seem so fragile.”
“It’s my first time, too.”
Nicolas laughed, rearing his head back with the shared realization that we were both complete amateurs. “We’re in for it, aren’t we?”
“Nic.”
He paused, looking at me.
“I forgive you.”
His smile faltered, then went away entirely. He searched my eyes with pinched brows, as if making sure he’d heard me correctly. Juliana made a small sound and he automatically adjusted his hold, but his gaze was unrelenting.
“We have a daughter,” I said. “Let’s restart. Clean the slate.”
His throat bobbed. He shifted Juliana to one arm and stood, coming to my bedside. I offered him my hand, and he took it.
“You don’t have to—”
My thumb stroked the back of his hand. He softened, kissing my wrist.
“Thank you.”
Chapter 49
Juliana transformed froma wrinkly, red-faced newborn to a cherub with plump cheeks and Nicolas’ hair. How quickly that darkness had shifted to a platinum blonde, soft and curled in a number of cowlicks. She had my eyes, or so it seemed; Mother said it often took a while to discern a baby’s eye color, but mark me, those were blue.
