Mom’s gaze lands on him.
Then on the baby.
Then on me.
And her mouth trembles as she smiles.
“Oh,” she whispers. “There’s my girls.”
My chest tightens so hard it hurts. I cross the space to her before I can stop myself, wrapping my arms around her carefully, like she’s both fragile and unbreakable.
She smells like lavender, and the lotion Emily insists on using. She smells like home.
“You’re here,” I whisper.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mom murmurs, voice thin but steady.
Emily hovers beside her, one hand ready at her elbow, the other holding a tote bag that probably contains half a pharmacy.
Theo makes a dramatic choking sound. “I’m going to cry, and I hate it.”
Emily elbows him without looking. “Don’t make this about you.”
Theo clutches his chest. “It’s about the baby, Em. I’m an uncle now. I have feelings.”
Emily finally looks at him, deadpan. “You do not.”
Theo’s grin slips away.
Rowan clears his throat quietly. “We brought food.”
Caleb adds, “And supplies.”
Elliot sits beside Julian. “My turn with...”
Julian’s eyes narrow. “Don’t.”
Elliot smirks. “I wasn’t going to steal her.”
“You were thinking about it,” Julian says, instantly.
Elliot puts a hand to his chest. “I would never.”
Theo whispers loudly, “He would.”
Our daughter makes a happy little sound, completely unconcerned, and Julian shifts her higher against his chest with a practiced motion that makes my heart happy.
Mom moves toward Julian, and he elbows Elliot, who automatically jumps up, making room for her. Emily helps her sit. When Mom is comfortable, Julian leans closer, lowering our daughter into Mom’s arms with the kind of care that makes my heart ache.
Mom holds her like she’s holding proof that we survived.
Our daughter stares up at her, wide-eyed, then reaches one tiny hand toward Mom’s face and grabs her finger.
Mom’s breath catches.
A soft sound escapes her, half laugh, half sob.
Emily wipes her eyes quickly, like she’s annoyed at herself.
