And now here he stood, in their daughter’s hospital room.

He ignored them completely. He walked straight past them to me, and the cold set of his face dissolved. As he took in the tiny baby on my chest, his eyes went soft.

“How are you feeling, my love?” he asked, leaning down. He smelled of rain and clean cedar.

“Tired. But better now that you’re here,” I said, and felt the tension drain out of me.

He kissed my forehead, then touched one finger to Kirk’s small pink cheek. “He’s perfect, Florence,” he said, his deep voice warming me. “He looks just like you.”

“I think he has your scowl,” I said, managing a tired smile.