“You’re still here.”

Wes shifts in the waiting room chair and blinks. “Wasn’t asleep. I was on guard,” he mumbles, and then his eyes open wide. “Holy shit. Holy shit, Day, there she is.” His voice is filled with wonder and sleep. He jumps up from the chair and shakes himself out. He’s still wearing the same t-shirt and jeans as before. Somehow, it surprises me. It seems like we’ve been here forever.

“Here she fucking is, man.”

My daughter.

She is here in my arms, fresh and soft and recently bathed. Her tiny, pink face is creased as if she’s been sleeping for a long time. She’s sleeping now, in my arms, swaddled in hospital blankets with baby footprint patterns. As I watch her—as we both watch her—her mouth squeezes into a pout and then relaxes again.

Wes clears his throat. “Is—is everything cool? That guy from the office isn’t going to come bursting in here, is he?” There’s a tired worry in his eyes.

“No. Summer’s office called a little while ago. They arranged to get him admitted at a place. I guess he was a suicide risk.” I don’t want to think about Alexei, but even Summer asked about him. These Sullivans. “The police are going to be keeping an eye on him for a long time.”

“Good. That’s good.” Wes smiles down at the baby. “She’s safe, then.”

“Do you want to hold her?”

He smiles, making a small ttt sound with his tongue. “You think I should?” He puts a hand to the back of his neck. “Mom’s going to be pissed I got to hold her first.”

“You can tell her I got to hold her first. Throw me under the bus. I don’t care.”

“Okay. Should I—” He motions to the chair.

I give him a look. “You can do this standing up.”

“All right. All right.”

I lean in close and transfer her gently into his waiting arms. “Support her neck.”

“I know.” He looks down into her face and his eyebrows rise. “Wow,” he says softly.

“I know.”

All of me is aching from the lack of adrenaline, and that’s probably what makes me so fucking sappy. But my chest warms at the sight of him in this waiting room. He didn’t have to wait here. He didn’t have to walk back into my life at all. But sometimes the past has a tight grip.

“So—” He moves from side to side a little. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” I’m suddenly bereft without the little weight of her in my arms, so I stick my hands in my pocket. “She’s a month early, so they were worried she might not be, you know, ready to be on the outside, but everything’s fine. She’s a little on the petite side. Six pounds even.”

“That’s good.” Wes flicks his eyes back to me. “And Sunny?”

“Sleeping.”

Wes laughs quietly. “I was going to go in and give her a high-five, but—”

“Another time.”

“Another time,” he agrees. Then he looks at me, waiting.

“What?”

“Dude.” He turns his attention back to the most precious thing that exists on the planet. “What’s her name?”

I can’t stop the ridiculous grin. “January.”

“You’re shitting me,” he says, so gently I stifle my laugh with my hand.

“No. It was Summer’s idea.”

“A winter baby born when it’s hotter than blazes.” Wes is incredulous. “You would do that.”

I think of how brave Summer’s been all day. One thing after another. Alexei. The baby coming early. Those moments of fear when she was first born, when we didn’t know if she was going to spend any time in the NICU. “It’s true. I’d let her get away with murder.”

“Why January? Why not September?”

Summer’s eyes, blue in the dim light of the delivery room, shining with pride and exhaustion. “She said January was when the before was finally over.”

Wes looks to the side, eyes crinkling. “I don’t think I need to hear any more about that.”

We stand in a comfortable silence. He looks down at January, who stirs lightly in his arms and settles back to sleep. I’m still shaken up by how different everything is now. A few hours ago, she was a figure of speech, a future plan, and now she’s here, shifting the gravity of the earth. How can someone so small change the way the planet spins? I don’t know, but she’s doing it.

I never imagined that Wes would be here for this. Not in my wildest dreams. For years, I’ve thought that even if we ran into each other, it would all be broken. I blink hard. No. This is real. We’re here in this empty waiting room in the middle of the night, both of us still alive.

“I missed you, man.”

He looks at me, then back down at January. “I don’t like admitting this kind of shit, but I missed you, too.”

I laugh.

“You turned out okay without me.”

“That’s the thing.” January fusses and he stands up, tense. I take my hands out of my pockets and accept her back into my arms. She turns her face to my shirt and nuzzles, her mouth puckered in a baby frown. Then, just like that, the storm has passed. She curls up again and I stroke her forehead. “I’m better with you around. I know, it seems—stop laughing, you ass—it seems stupid, but I need you in my life. This little girl’s going to need you, too.”

Wes nods, looking down at the bundle in my arms. “Shit, man.”

Then he steps forward and puts one arm around my shoulders, patting my back, being extra careful not to crowd the baby.

“Mr. Nash?”

Wes steps back and shoves his hands into his pockets, blinking fast.

“Yeah?”

One of the nurses has poked her head into the door of the waiting room. “Summer’s asking for you.”

“I gotta go. You should go, too. Get some sleep.”

Wes looks at me with a crooked grin. “Congratulations, man.”

He leads the way out of the waiting room, then heads to the right. Summer’s room is down to the left. I watch him walk away, his head held high. A little way down the hall, he raises one fist in the air, a silent celebration.

“Hey,” I call after him. He stops, turning on his heel. “You coming back tomorrow?”

“It’ll be a fucking madhouse. My parents—” He rolls his eyes.

“Be here,” I tell him.

“I’ll be here.”