Tyler

Kennedy is perfect. All night long she softly cooed. When I would pick her up, she made a sucking motion with her lips. It was cute, the first few times. The fourth time I woke up Reese to feed her I actually felt bad. She was happy to get up, but I could tell it was wearing her out, the up and down all the time. I’m not sure how much sleep she’s actually had.

The doctor’s working on discharge papers for both of them right now. Reese is nervous, checking over the baby’s car seat twice, making sure she’s latched in properly. They made each us of prove we knew the proper way to use the damn thing. Now, Reese is obsessing. Kennedy is sleeping through it all.

“All right. You are both free to go,” the nurse declares as she walks back in the room with a packet of papers. Handing them to me when Reese doesn’t bother to acknowledge her presence, she tilts her head in Reese’s direction.

“She’s obsessing,” I say, a little louder than necessary.

“No I’m not. I’m making sure she’s safe.” Her defenses are up.

I know she’s worried she’s not ready for this, but I have faith in her. She’s going to be a great mother. Sure, she’ll make mistakes, we both will, but we’ll get through this. Together.

“You made sure she was safe ten minutes ago. It’s time to go, Reese. Want me to carry her?” I ask, reaching for the car seat.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll grab the bag then,” she replies, rushing around the room, looking for her bag. The same bag I took down to the car over an hour ago.

“It’s in the car, babe.” Placing my hand on her shoulder, Reese stops but doesn’t turn to face me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replies quickly.

“Liar. I thought we both agreed no more lies.”

“I’m not ready yet,” she finally admits.

“To go home?” I ask, knowing the answer to my own question.

“Yeah.”

“Why not? You’re exhausted. I’m sure sleeping in your own bed sounds good right about now,” I tease. All morning long she complained how uncomfortable the hospital bed was. She needs a nap in her own bed. Stat.

“It does.”

“Then what’s really going on?” I ask when she still doesn’t turn to face me. Her attention is focused out the window. All I can see is clear, blue skies.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Yes, what?” I ask before I realize what she’s saying.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Tyler.”

“And you’re not ready for…” I need her to say it.

“I’m not ready to admit it to myself,” she mutters, lowering her head to her chest.

“That you love me?”

“No, that you love me. It’s easier to believe that you don’t, that the only reason you’re with me is because of Kennedy.”

Turning her around to face me, I lift her chin when she won’t meet my eyes. She needs to see that I mean what I’m about to say. She needs to believe that I’m not lying to her.

“That’s never been the reason, and you know that. Why is it so hard to believe that someone could love you? You’re an amazing person, Reese. And beautiful. And kind. Caring. Hardworking. Lovable. Determined. Stubborn.”

“Okay. I get the picture,” she laughs, glancing past me to where our daughter is sleeping soundly in her car seat. “I don’t need a list of my good and bad qualities.”

“Bad qualities? What bad qualities? I love everything about you.”

Directing her attention back to me, I see exactly what I’m looking for in her eye. Love. I’ve seen it before, but it’s been a while since it’s shone this bright. Right now it’s brighter than I’ve ever seen it.

“Well, aren’t you just the perfect human being?” she quips. Deflection is her way of keeping herself guarded these days. That ends now. No more.

“Thank you. Now, are you ready to go home, Mrs. Reese Small-to-be?”

“Ha, ha. Yes, let’s go home.”

Finally. She’s mine. She’s been mine for almost a year now, but she’s never admitted it. I want to shout it from the rooftops. Maybe take out a billboard to announce it to the entire city of Denver. Reese Kennedy is taken. Mine.

That might be a little over the top.

Nah! Go big or go home, right?