Page 97 of The Fake Play

“You get some rest,” Luke says, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I’ll go give them the news.”

He steps out and I settle back against the pillows, the warmth of our son against me a comfort. I let my eyes close, exhaustion tugging at me as I drift off, feeling the last traces of fear fade away.

When I wake, the room is bathed in the pale light of early morning. Luke stands by the window, our son cradled in his arms. He hums a tune, and I watch, transfixed, as he rocks him gently.

I’d always known Luke would be a good father, but seeing him now, I realize that he was more than that. He was everything I’d ever wanted.

Luke was my partner in every sense of the word.

He looks over, a smile spreading across his face as he sees that I’m awake. He strides over, carefully placing our son back in my arms. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning,” I whisper, as to not wake the baby.

Luke settles beside me, his arm around my shoulders as we gaze down at our son. We hadn’t named him yet and we were okay with that.

We sat there together for a while, wrapped in each other’s presence. Somehow, in the stillness of the hospital room, the rest of the world feels very far away. As I look down at our son, I memorize the delicate lines of his face, noticing he has his father’s nose.

I know how fleeting life is, and how hard I’ll fight for this tiny bundle in my arms. He’s so loved already and each moment with him is a gift.

Love certainly is a strange thing. Staring at my son, I am overwhelmed by how deeply I feel for him—gentle, soft and loving on one side of the coin yet on the other, there’s a fiery rage at the thought of any harm coming to him.

A quiet knock sounds at the door, and a nurse enters, her face bright with a beaming smile as she places an elaborate stack of gift baskets along the window, each one overflowing with cards, more small reminders of the people who love us. The window was the last spot in the room to put them—every other surface was covered in flowers and oversized stuffed animals.

My favorite was the giraffe. It was as tall as Luke. He named her Janet.

“Your team is really spoiling this little one,” the nurse says with a laugh. “They must really care about you two.”

“They do,” Luke replies and smiles. He had informed me that when he went to give everyone the news that we were both fine and it was a boy, that was all he was able to say. After that, therewere so many cheers and such an outpouring of hugs and well wishes, he didn’t need to say anything else.

Those people are like our family and I’m so glad that we have them. Our son will have multiple uncles and aunts between Michael, Evie, Whitney, and the team.

The nurse asks if we need anything, letting us know breakfast is on the way. I am particularly happy to hear that. I’ve been ravenously devouring the goodies in the gift baskets.

Luke reaches over to one of them, pulling out a small, handwritten note from Whitney. “To the best parents I know. You’ve got this. Love always, Whit.”

My sister from another mister. Maybe one day soon, my sister-in-law.

“I hope she’s right,” I murmur against our son’s little noggin as he sleeps on my chest.

Luke smiles. “Of course, she is. She’s Whitney.”

I giggle at that. She is always right. I sigh deeply and think aloud, “How do you feel about Dylan?”

“I knew a Dylan once. Great guy.” He pauses. “Bit of a troublemaker, though.”

“Oh?”

“He liked to hotwire cars and take them for joyrides. And by joyrides, I mean use them for getaway cars in armed robberies.”

I blink at him. “When did you know someone like that?”

“Same time everyone else did. He was the team accountant when I first came on.”

I snort out a laugh. “And now?”

“Now, we use a firm, since Dylan’s in prison.”

“Okay, so not Dylan.” I think some more while staring at our baby’s sleeping face. “Reese?”

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