He has just been standing by the window, staring down at him like he’s trying to memorize every single detail before it changes.
Which, knowing Justin, he probably is.
I watch them from the bed, propped against the pillows, every part of my body exhausted in a way I have no reference point for. It’s like my body hasn’t quite caught up to the fact that the person it spent nine months building is now out here in the world, wrapped in a striped hospital blanket, yawning in his father’s arms.
It’s a little surreal and also the most I’ve ever loved anything in my entire life, which I did not expect to hit me this fast or this hard.
Ironic, honestly, because three hours ago, I was gripping Justin’s hand, sobbing through labor, and telling him very clearly and with full conviction that I was
