comes in.”
“I will.”
“And Daniel?”
He leaned closer.
“Nobody gets to make decisions for me while I am in there.”
He looked at the two car seats again.
“Nobody.”
The morning passed in pieces too quick to hold. At 10:25, Daniel came through the recovery room door carrying flowers in one hand and looking as though he had forgotten how doors worked.
He nearly backed into the wall.
“I have flowers,” he said.
“I can see that.”
“I also have two children.”
“That part is more important.”
He looked toward the bassinet.
Luna slept with one hand beside her cheek.
Leo made a small sound and turned his head.
Daniel stood still.
“Which one is which?”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
“You have been asking that for nine months.”
“I know. I wanted to see if you were paying attention.”
“You are holding the flowers upside
