Logan smiles at me, then looks back at our daughter. The shadow I've seen in his eyes so many times is completely gone, replaced by a joy so deep it takes my breath away. “Just like you're the best mom.”

I laugh weakly. “Don't be ridiculous, we both know I'm gonna suck at this. I just hope I don't forget to feed her like I do with the cat.” It's a bad joke, and I'm too exhausted to pull it off.

Logan chuckles anyway. He leans down and kisses my forehead, his lips lingering there. “You're going to be an amazing mother, Em. You already are.” Then he turns and does the same to our daughter, giving her the gentlest kiss on her tiny forehead. “Welcome to the world, Ava Josephine Price.”

“Ava Josephine,” I repeat softly, testing the name on my tongue. We agreed on Ava months ago for a girl.

Logan shyly suggested it one night as we lay in bed, his hand on my belly. “After my mother,” he explained, eyes misting over. “Her name was Ava.” It was one of the few times he spoke of her without pain clouding his features.

“It's perfect for her,” I whisper, touching our daughter's tiny hand. “Your mom would be so proud of you, Logan.”

His eyes meet mine, shining with tears. “You think so?”

“I know so,” I say firmly. “Look at what you created, this beautiful girl, this life we have. You're nothing like your father. You're everything good that came from her.”

He swallows hard, one tear escaping to track down his cheek. “Thank you,” he manages, voice rough with emotion. “For giving me a family again. For believing in me.”

Somewhere in my mind, I hear my grandmother's voice.You'll know when you can't help smiling at the sight of them. Even after decades together, even when you've memorized every line of their face, their presence will still delight, surprise, and fill you with joy. Love makes your heart smile, Emily, not your face. It lives inside, private and precious.

She was right. My heart is smiling.

“Welcome to our crazy family,” I whisper, running a finger over my baby girl's super soft cheek.

Logan wraps his arm around us, pressing his face against my hair. “You did it. You were amazing.”

“We did it,” I correct him, leaning into him. “Though I deserve way more credit for the last part.”

He laughs softly, kissing my temple. “Fair enough.”

I had a plan. But Grandma, again, was right. Having a plan and having a good plan isn't the same thing. And yet, sometimes, what looks like a total mess is just the universe's way of putting things exactly where they belong.