I pulled Blaire onto my lap. “Does the surprise involve my dick inside your pretty, pink pussy?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her and kissing the side of her face.

“No,” she said, trying to stand, but I pulled her back to me.

“Your ass then?”

She laughed and pressed her sweet lips to mine. “Definitely not. There are no dicks involved in this surprise,” she said as she stood.

“Dick. Singular. Only mine,” I told her, swatting her fine ass when she bent over. I helped her carry the leftovers and trash into the kitchen and put it all away.

We washed our hands, and she led me back into the living room and sat me on the couch before retrieving the pink box I had forgotten she’d arrived with.

“What’s this?” I asked, looking from the box to Blaire.

“It’s Carrie’s baby book,” she said, smiling softly at me. I didn’t know what the hell a baby book was, but it seemed significant to Blaire, and if it had anything to do with my daughter, I damn well wanted to see it.

I kissed her forehead and said, “Show me.” She lifted the lid off the box, and I stared inside. There was a square, pink checked book with little rosettes surrounding a sonogram picture in the center of the cover. My breath caught in my throat as I traced my finger around it. “Is that her?” I asked, feeling a bit like a moron as soon as the words crossed my lips.

Who the hell else would it be, you nimrod?

“Yes, I was about four months pregnant when this was taken.” Damn, I should have been there for this. Holding Blaire’s hand when we saw our child for the first time together.

I was overwhelmed with emotion and pulled Blaire to me, whispering, “Thank you,” into her hair. I turned back to the book still nestled in the box and saw two hospital bracelets, one large and one very small. I picked them both up and fingered them. “So tiny,” I breathed, looking at Carrie’s. My eyes swelled with tears. I’m touching this bracelet that was on my baby daughter’s arm mere minutes after she was born.

Blaire lifted the book, and I sat back against the arm of the couch, rubbing the wetness from my eyes and pulling her to sit between my legs. There was a birth announcement cut out from the San Diego newspaper, followed by a guest list from a baby shower. “I didn’t know a lot of people in California,” Blaire said, moving her index finger over the short list of names. “This is Evan’s mother and her friends, and these are my brother and his SEAL buddies.” She laughed then. “It was so funny seeing all of those big guys eating tea cakes and sipping punch from delicate little china cups.”