"He hasn't taken his eyes off the baby. It's the sweetest thing."
Alexa's eyes fluttered open at the sound of the nurse's voice. The room was blurry at first, shapes swimming in and out of focus. She blinked slowly, her body heavy and aching, every muscle protesting the simple act of waking.
Then she saw him.
Archer sat on the plush couch near the window, bathed in soft morning light. His jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his usually pristine hair rumpled and falling across his forehead. In his arms, cradled against his chest with the kind of tenderness she had never seen from him, was a tiny bundle wrapped in white.
He was smiling down at the baby. A wondering smile that transformed his entire face.
He looked happy.
Alexa stared for a moment, something strange twisting in her chest.
"Let me see," she croaked, her voice rough and weak from hours of screaming.
