"We don't know it's a daughter."
"I know. I just... I know."
He had been right, of course. He usually was, when it came to things that mattered.
The pregnancy had been difficult with months of nausea, of exhaustion, of a body that seemed determined to make every moment uncomfortable. But Harriet had treasured every secondof it. Every kick, every flutter, every sleepless night. After so long believing she would never have this, the discomfort felt like a gift.
The birth had been terrifying. Hours of pain, of fear, of Sebastian holding her hand so tightly she thought her bones might break. And then…
A cry. Small and fierce and absolutely furious.
The midwife had placed the baby in her arms, and Harriet had looked down at the tiny, red-faced creature, and felt the world shift on its axis.
Oh, she had thought.There you are. I've been waiting for you.
***
Now, eighteen months later, Harriet sometimes still couldn't believe it.
She would wake in the night, heart pounding, and certain it had all been a dream. And then she would hear Eleanor's breathing through the adjoining door, or feel Sebastian's warmth beside her, and the relief would wash through her like a wave.
It was real. They were real. This life they had built…this messy, chaotic, beautiful life, was real.
"You're thinking too loudly," Sebastian said, drawing her back to the present.
They were still on the nursery floor. Eleanor had fallen asleep in Sebastian's arms, her cheek pressed against his chest, her small fist curled around his finger. She looked angelic in sleep, all trace of the morning's chaos erased.
"I was thinking about how lucky we are," Harriet said quietly.
"Were you?"
"I was thinking about two years ago. Standing at that window at Thornwood, terrified to hope. And now..." She gestured at the nursery, at the sleeping child, at the life that surrounded them. "Now this."
"It does seem rather miraculous."
"Itismiraculous. After everything we went through. All those years of trying and failing and trying again. And then we stopped trying, and…" She shook her head. "It doesn't make sense."
"Perhaps that's the point." Sebastian shifted carefully, trying not to wake Eleanor. "Perhaps some things only happen when we stop forcing them."
"That sounds like something my mother would say."
"Your mother is a wise woman."
"Don't tell her that. She'll be insufferable."
Sebastian smiled, that quiet smile that still made Harriet's heart flutter after four years. "Come here."
She moved closer, settling against his side, careful not to disturb their sleeping daughter. They sat like that for a long moment, the three of them, tangled together on the nursery floor and Harriet thought that she had never been more content.
"I love you," she said. "Have I mentioned that recently?"
"Not in the last hour."
"Well, I do. Desperately. Against all my better judgment."
"That's fortunate. I happen to love you too."
"How convenient."
