Safe With You

The Name We Didn't Know We Needed

Chapter: The Name We Didn’t Know We Needed

~ Alyssa ~

Hospitals are strange places after birth.

Too quiet, too white — like the walls are trying too hard to be calm.

Markus stands at the foot of the bed, clipboard in hand, looking more like a proud big brother than a doctor.

“Well,” he says, flipping through the last of my chart, “your vitals are perfect, baby’s perfect, no complications, and you didn’t curse at me once during delivery, so I’d say it’s been a successful twenty-four hours.”

I smile weakly. “That’s because I was too busy threatening Greyson.”

Greyson laughs beside me, holding our sleeping daughter. “She told me if I breathed too loudly, she’d stab me with a contraction monitor.”

Markus grins. “Romance isn’t dead.”

Then, softer, he looks between us — that genuine, older-brother pride that always tugs at my heart. “You did good, Lyssa, Both of you.”

I squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Markus.”

He glances at the tiny bundle in Greyson’s arms. “She’s perfect. And she’s got lungs like her mother — she’s going to run the world one day.”

I laugh softly, and he pats my shoulder. “Alright, go home. Rest. Hydrate. And please, for the love of my sanity, don’t check work emails for at least forty-eight hours.”

I salute him weakly. “No promises.”

Greyson rolls his eyes, gathering our things. “She’s already planning a fabric launch from her hospital bed.”

Markus groans. “Why am I not surprised?”

Home

By the time we pull into the driveway, it’s raining lightly — that soft spring rain that makes everything smell new.

Greyson carries the car seat in one hand, the hospital bag in the other, refusing to let me lift a finger.

Inside, the house is warm and dimly lit, exactly as we left it — except now it feels different.

Fuller.

He helps me settle onto the sofa, tucking a blanket around me. Our baby’s already asleep, tiny face scrunched, soft breaths against my chest.

Greyson brushes a thumb over her head, his expression melting into something I’ve never seen before — awe mixed with disbelief.

“I’ll go get the girls,” he whispers. “You rest. Call me if you need anything.”

I nod, too tired to argue, and watch him disappear out the door.

The quiet that follows isn’t heavy; it’s soft.

The kind that hums in your bones when life finally slows down.

Greys Anatomy plays faintly on the TV — season six, the episode where Dr. Grey gives birth.

I can’t help but laugh quietly at the irony.

“Perfect timing, Shonda,” I mutter.

On the coffee table, half a dozen baby bottles stand like little soldiers next to burp cloths, a pacifier, and a baby monitor that keeps blinking like a heartbeat.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself breathe.

~Greyson~

When I reach Winston’s place, it’s chaos — the good kind.

Through the big bay window, I can see Quinn and Poppy sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by glitter and what appears to be… a fort made entirely out of cushions.

Elle opens the door, still laughing, holding a mug of coffee in one hand.

“Morning, Dad of the Year,” she teases. “How’s Alyssa?”

“Tired. Glowing. Perfect,” I say, grinning. “Both of them.”

Behind her, Winston appears, hair a mess, shirt untucked, expression pure defeat.

“Your daughters have been using me as a human canvas. There’s glitter in my ears, Greyson. My ears.”

I can’t help it — I laugh. “You love them.”

“Debatable,” he mutters, but he’s already smiling.

That’s when Quinn spots me. “Daddy!” she squeals, scrambling off the floor, Poppy right behind her.

They rush to the door, bouncing on their toes, eyes wide with excitement.

“Is the baby home now?” Quinn blurts, tugging at my hand.

“Did she cry?” Poppy asks immediately after, her face scrunched in concern.

“Can we see her? Please, Daddy, please?”

Elle chuckles, sipping her coffee. “I’ve been hearing variations of that question since sunrise.”

I crouch down so I’m eye level with them. “Yes, the baby’s home. And yes, she cried a little, but she’s sleeping now. So we have to use our quiet voices when we go inside, okay?”

Both girls nod solemnly, like I’ve just entrusted them with state secrets.

“Can we hold her?” Quinn whispers.

“Maybe later,” I smile. “Right now, we’ll just look.”

They exchange a look, the kind that says we’re going to explode if we have to wait any longer.

Winston pats my shoulder on the way past. “Good luck, mate. They’ve been vibrating with excitement all morning. It’s like living with two espresso shots.”

Elle smirks. “And I told them to wear dresses because, quote, ‘meeting your baby sister is a fancy event.’”

I chuckle, herding the girls toward the car. “You’re the best, Elle.”

“I know,” she says, blowing a kiss before shutting the door.

~Alyssa~

The door opens softly.

Then — footsteps, light and cautious.

Poppy peeks around the corner first, Quinn right behind her.

They stop dead when they see me — baby asleep on my chest, blanket tucked up to her chin.

Their mouths drop open in perfect unison.

Greyson kneels beside them. “Go on,” he whispers. “Say hello.”

Slowly, they pad across the carpet, the air charged with a kind of reverent awe that makes my throat tighten.

Quinn climbs up beside me, her tiny hand trembling as she brushes the baby’s sleeve.

“She’s so little,” she whispers.

Poppy’s eyes are wide. “She’s beautiful.”

I smile, heart swelling so full it almost hurts. “She thinks you are too.”

They both grin shyly, sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring like they can’t quite believe she’s real.

After a moment, Poppy tilts her head. “What’s her name?”

Greyson and I exchange a look.

“She doesn’t have one yet,” I admit softly. “We wanted to meet her first.”

The girls look at each other — silent, thinking — then back at the baby.

And in perfect unison, they whisper,

“Hope.”

The word hangs in the air, light and fragile, before it settles deep into my chest.

I look at Greyson. He’s already looking at me — eyes bright, smile breaking through the exhaustion.

“Hope,” he repeats quietly. “It suits her.”

I nod, tears stinging my eyes. “It does.”

Quinn beams. “Because she’s our happy ending.”

Poppy nods seriously. “And she’s what Mummy wished for.”

I laugh through the tears now, reaching out to pull them both close.

Greyson wraps his arm around all three of us, his other hand resting gently on the tiny bundle between us.

The baby shifts, letting out a soft sigh, her tiny fingers curling around mine.

“Hi, Hope,” I whisper, smiling through the blur. “Welcome home.”