Proving Paul's Promise
Page 73
She nods. “We did a good job.” A tear slides down her cheek, and she doesn’t brush it back. Friday still busts my balls, but she’s also more open and honest about her feelings than she was for a long time. Or at least she is with me.
The lactation consultant comes in and teaches her how to feed the baby. I’ve never seen anything sweeter than the sight of her with my baby at her breast. She flinches and says it’s harder than Sky and Emily made it look.
“You’ll get the hang of it,” I tell her.
“You promise?” she asks. She smiles at me.
“Have I ever broken a promise to you?”
She shakes her head. “Never.”
She promised me she would love me forever when we got married. She promised me we could weather any storm that comes that our way, and we have. She can’t promise me perfect, but she promised me her, and that’s all I need.
She closes her eyes while our baby suckles at her breast. I notice that her breast is plumped around his nose, so I reach over and dimple it with my finger, making some breathing room. She opens her eyes. “You’re still taking care of me.”
“You let me live in your fortress, Friday. I’ll protect it until the day I die. I promise.” I kiss her softly and watch our baby as she feeds him for the first time. I take a mental picture of it—Click! Click!—but I won’t share it with anyone. This picture is only for me.
The lactation consultant comes in and teaches her how to feed the baby. I’ve never seen anything sweeter than the sight of her with my baby at her breast. She flinches and says it’s harder than Sky and Emily made it look.
“You’ll get the hang of it,” I tell her.
“You promise?” she asks. She smiles at me.
“Have I ever broken a promise to you?”
She shakes her head. “Never.”
She promised me she would love me forever when we got married. She promised me we could weather any storm that comes that our way, and we have. She can’t promise me perfect, but she promised me her, and that’s all I need.
She closes her eyes while our baby suckles at her breast. I notice that her breast is plumped around his nose, so I reach over and dimple it with my finger, making some breathing room. She opens her eyes. “You’re still taking care of me.”
“You let me live in your fortress, Friday. I’ll protect it until the day I die. I promise.” I kiss her softly and watch our baby as she feeds him for the first time. I take a mental picture of it—Click! Click!—but I won’t share it with anyone. This picture is only for me.
