I throw up. Again. It’s every fucking day. Not just in the morning, either, but all day long! Why is it called morning sickness if it lasts all fucking day?

After I threw up for three weeks straight, Carey made me do a pregnancy test. And—of course—I’m pregnant. By Hunter, who hates me so much he went to war to get out of talking to me. Great prospects for the future.

I’ve called his cell about two thousand times, but he won’t pick up. Carey’s tried, too. We tried calling his camp, but every single time, whoever answers tells us he’s out on a mission or just busy. I’ve written him emails. So many his inbox must be full. But he must have blocked my address by now.

I’ve sent imploring emails, angry ones, sad ones, loving ones. He hasn’t responded to a single one. Not one. It’s driving me crazy, and it’s not helping with the pregnancy, which is driving me just as crazy. I can’t believe he’s not here to go through this with me.

My thoughts are always with him. I stalk him, as much as I can. But the guy’s not into social media. Who in the world doesn’t have a Facebook account? Instead, I read every shred of information I can get about Camp Leatherneck. I look at all the photos hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

I know he’s alive. He named Carey as his next of kin, and Carey’s living with me, so I would know if anything happened to him. That means there’s only one possible reason he’s not getting in touch.

He doesn’t want to get in touch.

In the beginning, Carey and I went to the base in San Diego, and they told us he was on his way to Afghanistan. I broke down then. Just fell right onto the pavement, crying, and the only reason I didn’t smash into a thousand pieces right then and there was Carey. Carey was there to hold me together.

I cried for days after that as I desperately tried to get in touch with him. I begged Carey and Shane to contact him. But nothing. There was nothing. He didn’t respond. For three months now, he’s been ignoring me. Cold as ice.

I’m angry with him and angry with myself. Angry with him because he’s being such a bastard. And angry with myself because the moment he stuck out his hand wanting me to take it, without a second of hesitation, I failed him. How could I be so stupid? And how could he be so stupid as to quit his training to go to fucking Afghanistan?

We really managed to make the absolute worst of this situation. I don’t know whether Hunter even wants kids—not to mention at twenty-one—but, in my dreams, he’s happy about my pregnancy. I imagine him putting a hand on my belly, pressing his lips against it, and talking to our baby. Saying funny things. Sweet things. Things that drive me up the wall.

But my fantasy remains a fantasy. He’s not here. In fact, I don’t know if he’s ever going to talk to me again—if I’ll ever see him again. I can’t stand the thought of him dying over there with that idiotic thought in his head—the thought that I don’t love him. I can’t stand the idea of it. I want him to know I love him. I want him to know he’s going to be a daddy. That he’s going to have a little boy or a little girl. I want him to know that I want this. Our baby and him and me.

The idea that he’s blocked me completely is the worst. That he doesn’t care what I’m writing to him. I’ve written to him a thousand times, telling him I’m pregnant, and I’ve left messages on his voicemail. He doesn’t know, right? He hasn’t listened to them or read my emails. But what if… What if he does know and it’s just that he doesn’t care? Does he care so little about me that he doesn’t even love this baby?

These thoughts are killing me slowly. They penetrate every last corner of my mind, pushing aside any rational thoughts that may have been there before. My mind is entirely populated with madness. This must be what going crazy feels like…

But before I can get to that point, I put my hands on my stomach and imagine I can feel my baby, and everything gets better. Much better. If your daddy doesn’t want you, I’ll want you twice as much, I think, wishing I could plant a kiss on my own belly.

My pregnancy is driving me crazy, but it also keeps me from going completely off the rocker.

After I realized I couldn’t live with Shane forever, I went to look for an apartment. When I found one and showed it to Carey, he rigorously rejected the idea of it. Instead, he suggested we get an apartment together, so we can split the rent. After all, he got access to his trust fund when he turned eighteen. I don’t like the idea of living off Carter’s money, but Carey is right—we can’t live in an area where I can’t go out on my own at night. So we moved to South Park, a pretty nice area that’s not super expensive—though not cheap, either.

I’m sitting on the couch one day, eating ice cream, when, suddenly, my phone blinks. My heart beats a mad tattoo. This can only be Hunter! With sweaty fingers, I push the green button.

“Hello?”

“Mac?”

“Hunter!” I yell and immediately start crying. I’m sobbing so loudly I’m afraid our neighbors are going to be at my door any second.

“Mac, don’t cry. Come on. Don’t cry,” he says, sounding helpless.

But I can’t stop. I thought I would never hear from him again.

“Hunter,” I sob again.

“Don’t cry, Mac,” he repeats.

I nod, trying to regain my composure, but I guess I can forget about that right now. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop crying.

“Mac, I’m calling because I need to tell you something. Are you listening? Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I say quietly, trying to suppress the sobs.

“I forgive you,” he says. “Life is too short for hatred and anger. I forgive you, do you hear me? I want you to be happy, to be with the man who makes you happy. I’m sorry it’s not me. I will never stop loving you, Mac, but I can no longer wait for you. Okay? I forgive you, but I need to move on. I’ve been on standby for four years because I kept hoping you would choose me. But…I can’t do this anymore, Mac. It’s killing me.”

“Hunter,” I whisper, terrified because I realize his monologue is heading in the completely wrong direction.

“You can’t help the way you feel, Mac. I understand. I really do. If you’re happy with Dad, then I’m going to accept that. But please respect that I can’t stand by and watch. Okay, Mac? I love you, but it breaks my heart knowing you don’t love me back. I can’t do this anymore, you understand?”

“No, Hunter, no—”

“I need to go, Mac. I’m sorry about how things turned out. Please be happy. Do it for me. I love you. But we’re not going to see each other again. Goodbye, love of my life.”

Beep beep beep.

“Hunter! Hunter! HUNTER! No! I love you! I choose you! You make me happy! Only you!” I scream into the phone like he can hear me thousands of miles away in Afghanistan.

When I realize what I’m doing, I throw my phone against the wall and watch it smash into a thousand pieces, then I roll up on the couch to cry bitterly. I put my arms around myself, protectively, like they’re his. A torrential flood streams down my cheeks. It hurts so much. I thought the worst part was over, but this is worse. It’s taken any remaining shred of hope out of me.

Carey finds me in this position hours later.

“Mac, what’s going on?” Looking worried, he pulls me into his arms.

“Hunter…”

“What about him?” he asks, alarmed.

“He called,” I whisper, hoarse from crying.

“And?”

“He never wants to see me again.” I start crying again. “Oh, God!”

Carey wraps his arms around me. “Did you tell him you’re pregnant?”

“He didn’t let me say a word!” I wail.

Carey nods and kisses my head. “Once he knows you’re expecting his baby, he’ll change his mind.”

I shake my head resolutely. “No, no! I don’t want him to take me back just because I’m pregnant!”

“Mac, he’s the father. He has the right—”

“No way!” I snap. “If he doesn’t want me, he doesn’t deserve this child, either!”

“Mac—”

“No!”

Carey holds my face between his hands. “He is my brother, Mac. I can’t keep this from him.”

I look at him firmly. “If you tell him, I’m leaving. I’m running away! And you will never find me. You won’t be able to trace me, not through my ID, not through my credit card. It’ll be like I never even existed.”

“Mac—”

“No, Carey! I’m serious.”

“Don’t be like this!”

“I’m not being like anything. I don’t want Hunter being with me because I’m pregnant. If he takes me back, okay, I’ll tell him, but not before he makes his decision.”

“Mac—”

“Carey, I’m pregnant. This much agitation is bad for the baby.”

He sighs dramatically. He knows I just pulled out an irrefutable argument. “I think that’s a really horrible idea, Mac.”

“But you’ll do what I say?”

“I’m not going to lie to him. If he asks me, I’m going to tell him you’re pregnant. But I won’t bring it up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He gives me an annoyed look, but I put my arms around him.

“Thank you, Carey.”

“I really don’t like what you’re doing.”

“That’s okay.”

He kisses my head before getting up from the couch. “You’ve got three minutes to get ready to go out.”

“Carey—”

“Get ready, doll. End of discussion.”

Grumbling to myself, I go to the bathroom to wash my face and put on some makeup. Then I put on a top that’s not soaked through with tears. “Where are we going?” I ask, returning to the living room.

“That little restaurant you like in La Jolla.”

“Okay,” I say despondently. Not even that can cheer me up.

He drives us to the little neighborhood by the coast that I love so much. I’ve always imagined I’d be living here one day. And over the past few months, I’ve imagined living here with Hunter. I shake my head, trying to chase the sad thoughts away, but I can’t. Again and again, I tell myself that it’s not good for the baby if I’m so upset all the time. This baby will surely be born depressed, considering all the tears I’ve shed in its first weeks of life.

When we’re seated on the beautiful terrace, I order a burger, extra well done, with cheddar instead of goat’s cheese, even though I love goat’s cheese.

“You’re such a good mommy already,” Carey teases.

I shrug. “Just making sure Hunter can’t blame me for causing toxoplasmosis to our baby.” And just like that, I start crying again. God. In public. At an upscale restaurant, of all places.

“Mac, Hunter’s not going to blame you for anything. He’ll just be happy to be a dad.”

“Remember what you promised me!” I wail through my tears.

He snorts. “You are so crazy it’s not even funny anymore.”

Even more tears stream from my eyes. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m pregnant.”

“You’re a crybaby.”

“I know.”

He grabs my hand. “Mac, you’re going to be a great mom, but at the moment, you’re a little annoying. Which is the reason the father should be there when his woman is pregnant. After all, he caused this condition. He should be getting all the craziness associated with it, not some poor uncle who has nothing to do with it.”

“Very funny. Sounds like you don’t want me to stop crying.”

He grins. “I do want you to stop crying. In fact, it’s my greatest wish at the present moment.”

“I can’t stand you.”

“Liar.” He takes a sip of his Coke. Poor kid. He’s only nineteen, and he’s dealing with all this. For some reason, the thought stuns me. Nineteen. He seems so much older! Oh my God! What have I done to him over the past few months? Not only have I been a wreck—forcing him to take care of me—we’re going to add a baby to the mix. And now I’m asking him to hide important information from his brother—his best friend. I’m such a cow! How could I do this to him? I want him to enjoy his life, be young and carefree, not let himself get dragged down by my problems.

“Mac? What’s wrong?”

“I-I’m s-so sorry, Carey!” I stutter, crying even harder.

“What? You’re scaring me.”

Slowly, I pull myself together. I’m the grown up here. He needs to be able to rely on me, not the other way around! “I relieve you of our agreement, Carey,” I say quietly. “I know I’ve been…a little out of it. But you’re right. You can’t keep this from Hunter. I’m sorry I asked you to. Please forgive me.”

“Mac…”

“Can you forgive me?”

“For anything, doll, you know that. I love you more than PB&J sandwiches.”

I grin and wipe my tears away. “Thanks.”

His charm works. At least a little. And now that I’ve shifted my focus to not ruining Carey’s life, I can push my pain aside and be there for him. For the first time, I remember that he’s lost a brother. After all, Hunter’s been shutting him out these past few months, too. All because of me. And yet, Carey’s not mad at me. No, he’s affectionate as ever, even when I’ve wrecked his family. He has no relationship with his brother, none with his mother, and a bad one with his father since he can’t forgive him for hitting me.

I’m so goddamn selfish. No longer. From now on, I’ll take care of him like I should.

* * *

Being pregnant is the best and the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. On the plus side, I always have an excuse for being too fat. That’s a great bonus—the greatest bonus! And somehow, I feel more in tune with nature. And I also like that a part of Hunter is here with me, and that the three of us—Hunter, Carey, and I—are truly related now.

But I hate that the baby is always pressing down on my bladder, and I swear I have to pee every five minutes. I also can’t stand the idea that my majestic stride has been replaced with an undignified waddle. And I really hate that the pitch of my voice changes every hour or so. In a single day, I can be angry, happy, sad, lethargic, full of energy, laughing, and crying, in unparalleled proportions. Not to mention everything makes me cry.

A YouTube video of little ducklings following their mom? I’m crying my eyes out. The fact that Serena Williams could not defend her title at the U.S. Open? Heart-wrenching. Waterfalls spring forth from my eyes—and I don’t even watch tennis. A thank you from Shane? I could turn the Sahara into fertile soil with my tears.

But apart from that, I’ve made some other discoveries, too. Like the fact that cucumber with peanut butter tastes really good—but it has to be crunchy peanut butter. It’s all been worth it just for that revelation.

I still don’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl. And I don’t know what I’d prefer, either. Well, yes, I do… A girl. But only because I think Hunter would be the perfect daddy for a girl. He could kill anybody who broke her heart.

Please excuse my aggressive self. It must be the hormones.

Another thing I’ve noticed is that the nesting thing is no exaggeration. I’d decorate a whole house if I could. But as it is, Carey stops me when the baby’s room is so full you can hardly turn around in it. He makes me take back half the stuff I’ve bought, which, once again, makes me cry bitterly. But since this isn’t the first time Carey’s been accosted by my tears, he insists. Damn him.

I’ve decided not to change anything about my work situation until I have the baby. Afterwards, I’ll need to rethink things. Including my hours. I won’t be able to keep working evenings and weekends like I have been. I think working full time for Shane again is better for me. I wonder whether he would take me back.

Even though I know he would take me back, any time I even think that he might not, I start crying. I think it’s about time for this baby to be born.

* * *

Once again, the thought goes through my head: Poor Carey. But he’s taking it like a champ. My nocturnal binge-eating has forced him to run to the convenience store—again—and buy every bit of junk food they have in stock.

Not to mention my irritability due to the baby punching my stomach or kicking my bladder. Or because of the ridiculous width of my ankles, which, by the way, I can’t even see anymore. Or because my belly is too big even for the most generous maternity wear and all I can wear is sweatpants. And flip-flops, because I can no longer tie my shoes. Or because my breasts are now a cup Z, a true marvel of nature that makes me look cartoonish.

Oh, and he’s dealing great with my crying fits, in which I curse Hunter and Carey and the baby, and life itself, and the state of California, God, and President Obama.

And my angry fits about how my situation sucks, I look horrible, and Hunter is an asshole for abandoning me.

And now I have to do pregnancy exercises on top of it all.

Carey is my hero. My absolute hero.

He sits behind me through the classes, stoically taking it all and massaging my back when he’s supposed to, doing every single exercise with me, learning to breathe through the contractions with me. Here he is, only nineteen, and I can rely on him one hundred percent. His fuck-buddies don’t like our relationship, but I know I’m nothing but a big sister to Carey. He’s here for me, of course, because he is my best friend, my little brother who I love more than anything—in a purely platonic sense—but I know he’s also here for Hunter. Because he knows his brother would want him to do this for him. God, the girl who eventually snatches up Carey is going to be the happiest woman on earth. I’m experiencing firsthand how Carey will do anything for love.

Obviously, with that thought, I’m crying again.

Carey squeezes my hand, stroking my fingers. “What’s up, doll?”

“You’re so sweet,” I wail, which makes him smile.

“That’s why you’re crying?”

“Yes. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re going to be a great dad one day. You’d do anything for the people you love. Anything.”

“You would, too.”

“No,” I sob. “I wouldn’t.”

“Well, you’re probably never going to be a great dad, but you’d do anything for those you love, doll. Even for those you don’t love.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to wipe away all those silly tears.

“Remember when we first met? I was such a jerk, and you still didn’t give up on me. You always made me feel like you cared about me.”

“I do.”

“And I care about you.”

Which makes me cry again, because I don’t deserve this. I’m worthless and useless, and nobody loves me…

“Doll…” He pulls me into his arms. “It’s time for those raging hormones to give it a rest, huh?”

“Do you think I’m crazy?” My sobs increase in volume.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, so I’m just imagining things, am I?” I try to break away from him, but he’s holding me tight.

“I love you, doll.”

And then I sob some more. Until: “Ouch!”

“Is she kicking?” Carey asks. Finally the baby revealed it’s gender and I couldn’t be happier.

I nod, grab his hand, and put it on my belly. Immediately, I see awe on his face.

“Wow!” he breathes. “Oh my God, doll! That’s the best feeling in the world!”

“Isn’t it?” I smile, all sadness forgotten. My baby makes me happy. So indescribably happy.

When she kicks again, Carey smiles bigger. “She’s going to be a soccer player!”

“I’m so happy,” I say quietly, grinning at him.

He kisses me on the forehead, wise enough not to point out that not even ten minutes ago I was in the middle of a deep depression. “I know. Me too.”

* * *

Buying baby clothes with Carey is funny. For several reasons, the first being that he is funny. But also because of the reactions he gets from the women working at the stores. They all follow him with their eyes, giving him longing looks and almost tripping over their own feet in an effort to be near him that much sooner.

Obviously, stores selling baby goods are the best places to meet women. Not that Carey would need any help with that… I know because…well, his room isn’t all that far from mine. Sound carries. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

“Oh, yes,” a salesgirl says enthusiastically. “You should definitely get a sling so the baby is always near your heart. Oh, and here’s my number, in case you ever need to get out of the house…” Okay, nobody has said that to him yet, but judging from the way they’ve all looked at him, they might as well have. So many women have handed over their numbers over the last few weeks. Who would have thought a future dad—and he isn’t even a future dad—could be such an aphrodisiac?

“Should we get this blanket, too, doll?” He holds up a lilac blanket that looks so fluffy I want to cuddle it and make it my own comfort blanket right now.

I waddle over to him, touch the fabric, and sigh, because it truly is the softest thing I’ve ever laid hands on. I want to rub my cheek against it… “Yes, please!” I enthuse.

Three women in our vicinity sigh as Carey bends down to examine another blanket, presenting his tight little ass to the store. Hey, I’m practically his sister, but I do have a pair of eyes in my head. And the guy has a tight little ass. Just the way it is, I’m afraid.

“You’re breaking hearts again,” I inform him.

He grins. “You two are the only women I’m interested in.”

And again, onlookers are sighing. If he’d meant it in a romantic sense, it would be worth a sigh, sure. But that’s not what he means. He’s actually not seriously interested in any other women—because he’s become a bit of a male whore. But that’s not my fault!

“Why don’t you take your favourite women out for ice cream then?” I suggest.

“I would love to.” He takes the stuff I want to buy out of my hands and walks over to the cashier. All female eyes are on him.

“You are so lucky,” one of them murmurs at me.

And they’re right. Carey is the best. I have no idea what I’d do without him. Seriously.

I trudge after him, and as I stand next to him at the checkout, he puts his arm around my shoulders. The woman checking him out—in more ways than one—goes green with envy. But that’s just Carey. We have a much more affectionate relationship than we used to. He’s my best friend, my little brother, my family. He’s the person I can always rely on. And my little girl, too. Every girl needs somebody like Carey Tilman…

* * *

I wake up because my bed is wet. Over the past few weeks, our baby girl has been lying on my bladder, so I’m not surprised that now—Oh, wait! That hurt! Bending as much as I can with a beach ball-sized lump for a belt, I smell the wet patch on my sheets. I think my water just broke!

I wake up Carey, who calls Sheila, picks up my bag, runs to the car, and starts driving, only to realize I’m not with him a mile down the road.

He comes back yelling out the window, “Fuck, Mac! I’m so sorry!” After slamming the car into park, he helps me into the passenger’s side while I laugh away.

“Classic, Carey,” I tease him. “Nothing can go wrong with you on the job—OH MY GOD!” The next contraction interrupts my laughing fit with painful intensity.

When we get to the hospital, they take me straight to a private room. Carey stays with me till Sheila arrives. She’s going to be with me when I give birth, because I can’t make Carey do that. Help his crazy quasi-sister-in-law through pregnancy? Sure. Attend the birth of his niece in all its bloody, gory glory? No way. He offered, of course. But I wouldn’t do that to him.

When Sheila arrives, Carey gives me a grumpy look. He’s not happy with my decision. Poor thing. He doesn’t even know he definitely does not want to be here for this. “Mac, I don’t want to leave.”

“Go, honey. It’s better if Sheila helps me through this,” I tell him.

He takes my face in his hands. “Tell me you don’t want me here.”

I look down. “Carey…”

“Tell me. If you don’t want me to stay, I’ll leave. But if you’re just sending me away to protect me, forget about it. So, tell me, which is it?”

“I want you to…”

But I can’t bring myself to say it. He nods and sits beside me, taking my hand. “That’s what I thought.”

Sheila gives a little shrug and leaves the room.

“Okay, time to rock this,” Carey says brightly. Thirty seconds later, I’m crushing his knuckles.

“Oh, that asshole!” I scream, breathing through a contraction like we practiced in the exercises in my pregnancy classes. “Call that motherfucker, Carey! Let him hear what he’s done to me!” But Carey doesn’t, obviously, because Hunter hasn’t spoken to us once in the past six months. Not on the phone, not on Skype, and not by email. We’ve heard no news from him, not even by snail mail.

I know Hunter talks to Shane sometimes, but Shane will only say that we need to deal with this on our own and he’s not getting involved. And I’m actually grateful for that, because it means Hunter doesn’t know I’m pregnant. Or that, right now, I’m delivering his—our—baby. No, strike that. My baby. Just my baby.

“I hate him!” I yell. “And I hate you, too, Carey! You bastards are such freaking giants, and that’s why I have a baby elephant inside me!”

“You’re doing great, Mac. Keep breathing like you’ve been practicing,” the nurse says.

Like a champ, Carey holds my hand, wipes the sweat off my forehead, and brings me water and ice chips. He encourages me, tells me I’m great, that he’s proud of me, that I’m going to be a great mom. That he loves me and can’t wait to see his niece. That I can count on him.

And I thank him for it by screaming at him, cursing him, and crushing his knuckles. What a great deal he signed on for here.

“You’re doing great, Mac,” he whispers in my ear. “Not long now, doll.”

“Stop calling me that! I’ll call you a sex doll if you don’t fucking stop!” In the haze of it all, I don’t understand why the doctor and nurse have to smile.

“Okay, Mac, when the next contraction comes, push!” the doctor instructs me.

What, now I have to push, too?

“Carey, you can help her when I tell you to,” the doctor says, speaking quickly. “Do you want to catch the baby?”

“No!” I scream.

“Yes!” Carey shouts.

“I do not want you near my vagina, Carey!” I shout.

“But my niece—”

“You can hold her after I put on some clothes! Until then, focus on my upper body. That’s a command!”

He nods, resigned to his fate.

And then I push. Who’s idea was it to have this baby naturally? I’m going to kill that person! Why couldn’t I have a C-section? I beg for the epidural then, but allegedly, it’s too late. Sure, fucking sadists! You just enjoy watching me suffer! You’re servants of evil! I decide I hate them all. Especially Carey, because he looks so much like Hunter, the asshole! God, I hate him!

When is this going to be over? I want to go home and sit on the couch with some ice cream. I just want this to stop.

“Push again, Mac!” the doctor shouts.

And even though I don’t want to, because I don’t want to give this asshole the satisfaction of bossing me around, I do. I push with every new contraction until I’m so exhausted I can’t push anymore. With the next contraction, the nurse leans onto my belly, helping me push, while Carey and the doctor hold my legs.

“I can’t do this,” I moan again and again, but they’re not listening. We’ll have to talk about this later! How can you force somebody to give birth like this? What exactly is so wrong with the baby just staying inside my belly? Forever?

“We can see her, Mac! One more time, and it’s over.”

One more time. I can do that. I push until the doctor says I can stop. I’m confused, but I have to trust the guy knows what he’s doing.

“Okay,” he says, “with the next contraction, push as hard as you can.”

“You said one more time!” I wail.

Carey wipes my tears away. “Shhh, Mac. You’re doing great.”

“How do you know?” I hiss. “You’ve never seen a birth before!”

His face is white, and he looks just as exhausted as I feel. Poor thing, I think in a fit of compassion before I have to push again.

“The shoulders are clear,” the doctor announces.

Carey lets go of my hand and steps past the sheet at my waist into the forbidden zone. The doctor takes Carey’s hands and puts them in position just in time for Carey to catch his little niece. The expression of awe in his eyes keeps me from yelling at him for seeing my vagina. Judging by the look in his eyes, he doesn’t even realize I have one at the moment.

The look on his face is familiar to me. It’s the look you have when you fall in love. And Carey Tilman is falling in love with his niece this very second. My heart bursts with happiness. Carey cuts the umbilical cord, and the nurse puts my little baby on my chest. I stroke her gently, not wanting to break her.

Carey comes over, puts his head on my shoulder, and together, we look at our new family member.

“She’s perfect,” he says, stroking her little fingers.

They take her away from us one more time. While they clean me up, Carey watches the nurse like a hawk, making sure they treat our little girl well.

“What do you want to call her?” the nurse asks as she hands her back to me all clean and bundled up.

I look at Carey. “Hazel Claire Tilman.”

Carey swallows. He gets it. The H is for Hunter. The C for Carey.

Carey bends over me and kisses my forehead. “You’re the best, doll.”

He tenderly takes his niece into his arms, so, so gently—only real gigantic men can be this gentle. She’s tiny in his arms, and yet it is obvious she has nothing to fear. He’s going to protect her. Forever.

Just like her dad, once he pulls his head out of his ass.