Epilogue
Jonah
The sharp wail of Benjamin Kyle Moran, seven pounds, four ounces, startled me so badly I nearly fell out of the long cot next to Shannon’s bed.
“You should have gone home. I love you, but you look a mess,” she said.
“No. If you’re not leaving, I’m not leaving. I’ll clean up fine.”
“You will.” Shannon laughed. “But right now, the side of your hair is sticking straight up.”
I stood and glanced at a mirror, smoothing the sides of my hair. Benji protested again.
“He’s not hungry. I just fed him. Maybe he’s cold.” Shannon re-swaddled him and then held him, while patting his back until he quieted down.
Seeing Shannon with our baby filled me with a profound relief. The pregnancy had progressed without any problems, but the whole time I felt tense and protective. Benji’s
