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That was one thing Kaidence had learned quickly about Caspian. If his daddy had promised him something, he could count on it.

Caspian could spend nearly all day with him, then play the same video game three nights in a row, let Kaidence beat him even though both of them knew damn well he had done it on purpose, and sit through every superhero movie known to man, and Kaidence would still act like getting his daddy in solid form was the biggest event of his entire day.

Honestly, I loved that for him.

He had lost almost six years with a father he hadn’t even known was there, so if he wanted to stand at that window every evening waiting like Caspian was returning from a yearlong deployment instead of somebody he had just followed upstairs asking questions, I wasn’t going to take that excitement away from him.

A soft cry came from the bassinet near the couch before quickly turning into a louder complaint.

I smiled. “And there goes your sister.”

Kaidence barely moved from the window. “She’s probably hungry.”

“Thank you, Dr. Kaidence.”

“You’re welcome.”

I shook my head and headed for the fridge, where I grabbed one of the bottles of breast milk I had pumped earlier and warmed it. By the time I made it to the living room, those little cries had grown impatient enough to let me know I apparently wasn’t moving fast enough for her either.

“Okay, okay. Mommy’s coming.”

I reached into the bassinet and carefully lifted her against my chest. The second she felt me, her tiny body settled just a little.

“Hey, Mama,” I whispered, brushing my lips across her forehead. “Are you hungry?”

Her mouth started searching before I could even finish the question.

“Yeah, that answered that.”

I sat down on the couch and brought the bottle to her lips. She latched onto it immediately, both of her little hands curling near her face as if she hadn’t eaten in twelve business days instead of a couple hours.

I ran my finger gently over her cheek as she ate.

One week old.

One whole week of waking up every few hours, sore nipples, diapers, tiny socks disappearing for absolutely no reason, Kaidence asking whether she could play video games yet, and Caspian hovering near her bassinet during the day, then holding her every night like he still couldn’t believe he had helped create her.

We named her Cassiane. Well, Caspian named her, and his choice surprised me.

Long before Kaidence was ever conceived, Caspian had told me if he ever had a son, he never wanted him to carry his name.

No Caspian Jr.

No little CJ.

None of it.

At the time, I thought it was strange because so many men seemed determined to name their first son after themselves, but Caspian had been serious about it. The life he lived came with too much attached to his name: too many enemies, too many old grudges, too many people who heard Caspian Black and immediately connected it to power, money, fear, or something that had happened in the streets.

He never wanted his son born carrying any of that.

According to him, his child deserved to walk into a room and have people learn his name because of who he became, not because they already knew who his father had been.

That was why, when I had Kaidence, I gave him a name that belonged completely to him.

But apparently Caspian’s principles had developed a little loophole when it came to his daughter.

The first time he suggested Cassiane, I had fussed a bit. “You didn’t want your son named after you, but your daughter gets almost your whole damn name?”