In more ways than one.

With Ophelia’s little bump, though, she wouldn’t be the only club baby for long.

Moving to where Ward sat with our daughter, each brother fought over who could hold her first.

Scythe was the only one who stopped to kiss my cheek first.

“Hey,” I called when I was beginning to worry they’d come to blows. “Don’t mind me. I’m just the one who gave birth. No big deal.”

They rushed to give me the same attention.

I started laughing. “I’m kidding. I swear, I’m kidding.” I forced my laughter to cut off abruptly, but I couldn’t hide my smile. “That said, Swedes fed me, so he gets her first. Then Scythe.”

The scarred biker’s eyes widened for a moment before he grinned like I’d just bestowed the highest honor.

Ward was already as protective with his new daughter as he was with me—his new wife. He made sure everyone washed their hands thoroughly and held her just right.

Each time he took her in his arms, my heart melted. My belly warmed. My oh-so-sexy gauze underwear-slash-diaper was wet with my arousal.

Or they would’ve been had I not just given birth. I wasn’t that crazy.

I watched him put his nose to hers.

Okay, I may have been that crazy.

I was supposed to be focused on the paper in front of me, but I couldn’t stop looking at Ward. And since his eyes kept moving to me, the feeling was mutual.

After the hundredth time of catching his gaze, he took our baby from Judge and ordered, “Everyone out.”

No one argued, but there were grumbles of discontent as they retreated to the waiting room—I had no misconceptions that they’d actually go.

When Jury closed the door behind them, Ward came to sit on the side of the bed. His brows were lowered in concern, his blue eyes darting between me and the paper on the rolling table.

“We talked about this,” he said.

“I—”

“I don’t care what a DNA test would say. She’s my daughter.”

“Ward, that’s—”

“Not gonna change. Not a lot of guarantees in life, baby, but that’s one of them. Till I take my last breath, I’ll love you and our daughter.”

“I don’t think…” He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, I covered it and said, “I don’t think her name is right.”

After looking at every baby name in the world—or so it’d seemed—we’d decided on Ivy. But in the long twenty-ish hours since she’d been born, neither of us had called her that name. She didn’t feel like an Ivy.

“What’re you thinkin’?”

I pulled on the blank face that I rarely used. “Teddy. You know. In honor of the teddy bears.”