Blake
The morning sun beamed through the hospital window, straight into my eyes, so I got up and adjusted the blinds. But not before taking in the view. It was a beautiful day.
“Oh, that’s your unquieted love, Rebecca? You have good taste, Romeo. I’m impressed,” Sydney said once I filled her in on how I knew Becca.
Her sleeping baby was curled up in a blanket against her side. I’d gone home to sleep after Katie was born—Sydney was exhausted and insisted I sleep in a real bed, thank God—but I was back with her in her postpartum room the next morning, this time with a bag of croissants. What can I say? Decadent food is my go-to for most life situations.
“It was a long time ago, but thanks.” Feeling like I hadn’t slept, I scrubbed a hand over my face. I hadn’t slept much. The conversation
