Page 137 of Tapped

ABSOLUTELY PERFECT

Evie

Baylee Patricia Cruz.

Seven pounds, fifteen ounces, and twenty inches of pure, innocent sweetness.

She has a dark smattering of hair, the bluest eyes when she peeked at me through a yawn, and if I could bottle her smell and lather myself in it forever, I would.

“She’s perfect,” I whisper. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Then it’s official,” Brax states and leans down to kiss his wife. “The doctor said she was perfect. We make good babies.”

Landyn’s expression is content and blissful as she gazes up at her husband who’s still dressed in all black, wearing the same pants Micah left the house in earlier this morning with a scrubs shirt thrown over the top.

“She is perfect,” Landyn agrees. She’s propped up in bed eating a cheeseburger. Micah stopped on the way to the hospital and picked up more food than the two of them could eat.

“You know, she’s not going to be so perfect when she sneezes and coughs in your face,” Micah mutters. “Just saying, it happens.”

I look up at Micah and smirk. His expression is dead serious. Talk about trial by fire. There is no easing into kids with an almost kindergartner.

“Next time I’m not leaving you alone this close to your due date,” Brax says. “I don’t care what I have to clean. You waited way too long, and we barely got here in time.”

Landyn licks ketchup off her fingers. “My contractions were so light—I didn’t think they were real. Then everything happened so fast.” She turns to me. “Brax didn’t have time to change clothes. My doctor said he’d never had a dad running in straight from a drug raid.”

Baylee stretches before curling back into herself. I look up at Micah. “Are you ready to hold your Goddaughter?”

“Chase literally used me as a human tissue all day yesterday. You shouldn’t even be holding her.”

“I washed my hands. And I’m around sick people all the time. I never get sick.”

He shakes his head. “If Baylee gets sick, it’s not going to be on me.”

“She’s not going to get sick.” I look back down at the bundle of joy. “But we should go. They need their bonding time.”

I stand with the baby and am about to offer her to Micah one more time, but I’m caught in his intense, blue-eyed gaze. He’s sitting on a pleather sofa, reclined with an ankle resting on the opposite knee. His stare on me is intense, and it has nothing to do with the fact kids are germ bombs. “You’re sure?”

He doesn’t take his heated eyes off me. “I’m not as confident in my immune system as you are. Baylee and I will have years to bond over obnoxious toys. I’ll wait until I know for a fact I haven’t caught the Chase Plague.”

I roll my lips in to keep from smiling, because he does not at all look upset about possibly catching a cold from my son.

I really need to be more diligent about teaching Chase coughing and sneezing manners. More things to add to the list.

When I turn to hand baby Baylee back to her mother where she belongs, Landyn and Brax are wearing the same expression—satisfied grins that are not aimed at their new daughter.

They’re focused on Micah and me.

Landyn looks up at her husband who is standing possessively at her side. Her grin shrinks to a smirk. “I told you so.”

He leans down and tips her head back to press his lips to hers. “Chica, I already lost one bet on them. Don’t make me pay up on the day our daughter is born.”

“I’ll give you a pass today.”

“Thank you, baby.”

Micah clears his throat from behind me to interrupt their moment. “We’ll get out of your hair. Let me know if you need anything else, like a change of clothes so you can get out of that raid gear.”

I carefully place the newborn back into her mother’s arms. Landyn presses her lips to Baylee’s forehead and can’t force herself to look away from her baby when says, “Thank you for the food. I needed it.”

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