Page 64 of Protected By Her Daddy

She’s so tiny, so fragile-looking, but her eyes are wide open and staring right at me. Instinctively, I pull her close to my chest, and she settles against me with a little sigh that feels like a secret message of love. Gabriel leans over us, his tall frame casting a shadow of protection. His brown eyes shine with unguarded amazement.

“She’s perfect. And safe. We love you so much, my love,” I say tearfully, my lips brushing her forehead in a kiss that seals a thousand silent promises.

Gabriel’s hand is gentle on her back, his touch reassuring. Its strength and warmth seep through the thin hospital blanket. He kisses my forehead, and there’s a sacredness in that simple act.

“I’ll keep you both safe. You’ll never know neglect, hunger, or fear again, Wren,” he vows, his voice a low rumble that echoes in my bones. “Our baby will never know those things either. I’ve already set up a trust fund for her. She’ll never go without, I promise you that.”

I nod, too full of emotion to speak, my heart swelling in my chest like it might burst. For so long, I was used to scraping by and worrying about tomorrow’s meal, but now there’s only an overwhelming sense of security.

“Congratulations, both of you,” the doctor says, breaking into our little bubble as he finishes up. He gives us a nod and a smile that actually reaches his eyes before slipping out the door.

The nurses move around us, their efficiency a quiet dance. One fluffs my pillows while another checks my vitals, her hands quick and sure.

“Your blood pressure is perfect, Wren,” she tells me.

I almost laugh because “perfect” seems to be the word of the day.

“Thank you,” I murmur, still lost in the rhythm of my daughter’s breathing.

“Everything looks great here,” another nurse chimes in, giving the baby a once-over. “We’ll leave you in peace for a little while, but press the call button if you need us.”

“Will do,” I reply, my gaze not leaving the precious face nestled against me.

As they leave, Gabriel scoots his chair closer, his presence a steady anchor. I look up at him, and our eyes lock. There’s so much I want to say, thank-yous and I-love-yous and a million other words, but they all seem too small, too confining for what’s between us now. So instead, I squeeze his hand. It’s one of those moments where we communicate more perfectly through silence than through the imperfection of words.

Gabriel’s warm hand envelops mine, his touch both grounding and electrifying.“You did it, Wren,” he says, pride etched in every syllable.

I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips despite the weariness weighing on my bones. “We did it, Gabe.”

Memories flash, his fist flying into the wall, his gentle caress as he wiped away my tears, his promises of forever. “You saved me that day you fought off my attacker, in so many ways. And you’ve given me all of you, a life I couldn’t have imagined, and now our daughter. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for all that you’ve given me.”

The chuckle that rumbles from him sends a familiar shiver down my spine, though it’s dulled by the lingering numbness from the epidural. I think if I hadn’t recently pushed a human being out of my body, that sound would stir more than just my heart. “You’ve given me so much more, Wren. You gave me a life, love, and now a family. I think I owe you a whole lot more.”

My heavy eyelids flutter as I manage a crooked smile.“I guess we’ll have to owe each other then, won’t we?” The words come out softer than I intend, but they hang in the air between us, filled with the weight of truth.

His warm eyes, always so full of strength and certainty, now shimmer with something new, something tender. He looks at me, then at the tiny bundle in my arms. “May I hold her?”

A part of me wants to cling to our daughter, to never let go. But the larger part, the part that knows how much this man beside me deserves to cradle the life we created together, nods. “Of course.”

He stands, carefully peeling off his shirt, revealing the tapestry of muscles beneath. There’s nothing sexual about it; it’s a gesture of bonding, skin to skin, father to child. Gently taking the baby, he settles into the chair next to the bed, his large hands cradling her with a gentleness that belies their size.

“Go ahead and rest, Wren,” he says softly, his attention fully on the little girl whose tiny fingers grasp at the air. “I’m going to get to know my daughter a little.”

“Okay,” I whisper, the pull of sleep becoming irresistible. My body is starting to remember it’s run a marathon and then some. I close my eyes, surrendering to exhaustion, while Gabriel, my rock, my safe haven, takes his turn watching over our newest treasure.

As I drift off, I’m aware only of the steady rhythm of my two hearts, one beating against my chest, the other echoing it from across the room.

The world is a blur of soft beeps and the gentle rustle of fabric when I wake. Gabriel’s still here, his fingers stroking our daughter’s back with a touch as light as butterfly wings. It feels like I’m floating on a cloud of pure relief and bone-deep weariness.

“Hey, little bird,” he murmurs, his voice a warm caress against the cool air of the room. “You should rest more.”

I blink slowly, trying to focus on him through the haze settling over my mind. The peace is so thick it’s almost tangible, wrapping around me like one of those weighted blankets they advertise online. Comforting, grounding.

“You called me ‘little bird’ because I was always ready to fly away at the slightest noise,” I say, remembering when we first met.

Gabriel chuckles, a sound that ripples through the quiet room. “Yeah, you were skittish. But look at you now, Wren. Strong, brave, and a mother.”

“Turns out I just needed a good reason to stay grounded.” I let out a small sigh and watch him, the way his thumb brushes at the silky hair coloring our baby’s tiny head. His eyes are locked on her tiny face, dark like storm clouds but warm like a safe harbor.

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