Page 125 of Paternal Instincts
Quaid lowered his face and kissed our daughter’s head. “Juniper. I think I’d like that.”
He sobbed again, burying his face in my shoulder as we held our daughter.
Time passed at an immeasurable pace. The nurse performed another examination of baby Juniper before swaddling her properly in a pink blanket. Bryn held her for a while, telling the baby thank you for being part of her life.
Again, Quaid cried.
Bryn was taken to the maternity floor to recover, and it was time to introduce baby Juniper to the family.
The following day, we would sign the official paperwork and bring her home.
Although we’d taken turns holding her over the past hour, Quaid had a hard time letting her go, so it was he who carried her down the hall to the waiting room for the official introduction. I walked beside him, unable to take my eyes off our daughter, who slept in his arms.
“She’s tired,” he said.
“You would be too if you’d fought to be born.”
He smiled. “True.”
My mother’s voice traveled, and chatter filled the waiting room. News of the baby’s birth had arrived long before us, and I heard thevoices of my brother-in-law, niece, and nephew as well. Amelia must have called them and told them to come.
Upon our arrival, a hush fell over the room as everyone glanced at us in the doorway. Smiles and joy radiated from every face. My four-and-a-half-year-old niece jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “It’s here! The baby is here, and it’s a pink one! Mommy, Uncle Azzie had a baby girl.”
I chuckled at her enthusiasm and wrapped an arm around Quaid, pulling him against my side. “You are correct, Kylee. Uncle Azzie and Uncle Quaid had a baby girl. May we introduce Juniper Cellina-Marie Valor-Doyle.” It was a mouthful, and she would likely hate us for the abundance of hyphenations when she got older, but we’d suffer her ire with smiles.
The room exploded with excited chatter and congratulations. Hearing the middle name, my mother swooned as she clutched her chest. “Oh, Ronan. Did you hear that? Did you hear that, Amelia? Cellina-Marie, after her grandmother. After me. Oh, she has my name.”
“Juniper, after Quaid’s sister, Ma,” Amelia pointed out.
My mother covered her mouth, glassy eyes widening. “Oh, how darling. How precious. Ronan, did you hear that?”
“I heard.”
“Juniper. After Quaid’s sister.”
“I said I heard.”
“Isn’t it darling?”
“It’s darling.”
We were quickly surrounded, everyone wanting to see the baby. My parents. My sister and her family. Allison and her daughter, who offered me a hug and whispered that Torin sends his congratulations too and is supremely pissed he couldn’t be here.
The only people who remained seated were Quaid’s father—he wasn’t about to battle for space when his bum knee gave him so much trouble—and Graham, who had deposited himself beside Abraham and seemed less interested in the baby and more interested in discussing chess.
Like always, Abraham indulged him. He’d told me once that something in Graham reminded him of Quaid as a child. Old souls trapped in young bodies. Their seriousness, focus, and tight control were the same. Graham didn’t come across as a typical nine-year-old, but he wasn’t a typical nine-year-old, and Quaid had left childhood behind on the day his sister had vanished, forcing him to grow up long before he was ready.
Amelia stole baby Juniper from Quaid’s arms and cradled her like a pro, turning to her husband. “I want another baby.”
Chris almost choked on his spit. “Yeah, we’ll talk about that later.” When Amelia turned to show her mother the baby, Chris met my gaze and shook his head, eyes bulging as he mouthed,No fucking way.
My mother cooed at the bundle of pink in my sister’s arms while my dad looked on, seeming pleased as punch. Kylee bounced up and down, demanding to be allowed to hold her. When Quaid stiffened, instantly losing three shades of color, I found his hand before he could snatch our daughter back and run away.
Mom took the baby as Amelia heaved Kylee into her arms and showed her what she was missing, telling her not to touch her face. They admired her beauty, lifted her hat, and awed at her dark hair.
My sister met my eyes, and I could read her mind. She saw it, too. Juniper was a Doyle through and through.
Chris offered a hand, and we shook as he congratulated us. Juniper was smothered in love by my side of the family, passed from one person to the next. After so long, Quaid retrieved hisdaughter, taking her over to his dad. He sat beside him on the narrow couch and offered her to him.
