They wrapped him carefully in a soft blanket and placed him on my chest. I looked down at him and my entire heart exploded with more love than I ever knew was humanly possible to feel.
He was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Tiny and wrinkled and still crying but absolutely perfect in every way. He had dark hair like Mal. Lots of it. His eyes were closed but I could see his little nose and his perfect tiny mouth and his impossibly small fingers.
“Oh my god,” I whispered. “Look at him. Mal, look at our son.”
Mal was staring at the baby with complete and total awe on his face. “He is perfect. You are perfect. I cannot believe any of this is real.”
“We made a person,” I said in wonder. “We actually made a whole entire person.”
“Youmade a person, little mate. This is entirely your achievement. I merely contributed some genetic material.”
“You contributed pretty significantly.”
“Not nearly as significantly as you.”
Sorcha leaned over to look at her grandson and fresh tears spilled down her face. “He’s absolutely gorgeous. Congratulations to both of you. I’m so incredibly happy.”
Even Aurion had ventured closer, though he still looked nervous. He was peering at the baby with genuine wonder on his face. “He’s remarkably small.”
“All babies are small,” I pointed out.
“I know that intellectually. But he’s really extremely small.”
“Would you like to hold him later?”
Aurion’s eyes went comically wide. “I have absolutely no idea how to hold a baby.”
“We’ll teach you. It’s not particularly difficult.”
“What if I drop him?”
“Try not to.”
The baby had stopped crying and was making these little snuffling sounds that were possibly the cutest thing I’d ever heard. His tiny hand had worked its way out of the blanket and was waving around in the air. I caught it with my finger and he gripped it with surprising strength for someone who’d been alive for approximately three minutes.
“What are you going to name him?” Sorcha asked softly.
I looked up at Mal. We’d discussed names extensively but hadn’t settled on anything definite.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I like Killian,” I said immediately.
“That was actually my second choice.”
“What was your first choice?”
“John.” He said, completely serious.
I made an exaggerated face of disgust. “Absolutely not. That’s terrible.”
“What’s wrong with John? It’s famous in the human world. It’s a perfectly respectable name.”
“It sounds weak and boring! Killian is significantly better.”
“You just like it because it sounds fierce and warriorlike.”
“Exactly. Our son should have a name that reflects strength.” I nodded. “Just like his parents.”
