I know it’s early yet, and I shouldn’t count my chickens before they hatch. But he’s such a good baby. He’s just the sweetest little lovebug who wants to be in our arms at all times. And believe me, his daddy and I are more than happy to indulge him.

Our only argument these days is over whose turn it is to hold him. And when losing means I get to watch the two of them together? Well, it doesn’t feel much like much of a loss at all.

I didn’t think it was possible to love Lyle more than I already did—until I saw his heart melt for that baby. From the moment he proposed, there’s never been an ounce of hesitation. He made the choice to step in and be a father to my son, and he’s never looked back.

He didn’t have to do any of this…but he did.

He chose this life with us. And I’ll never stop counting my lucky stars that he landed outside my bridal suite that fateful day.

A text alert sounds on my phone, pulling me from my thoughts.

Raven: Where the hell are you?

Me: Uhh…the bathroom. Just got out of the shower. Why?

Raven: Come to the living room and be quiet.

Guess we have a visitor.

I pad through the house quietly, as instructed, to find Raven snapping photos of my husband and child asleep on the couch.

“Did you do this?” I ask when I notice their matching white fluffy robes and the towels wrapped around their heads like they’re at the spa. Where do you even find head wraps that tiny? Surely she must’ve staged this.

Raven shakes her head.

“The cucumbers?” I whisper when I note the slices resting on their eyelids.

“Nope.” Her head shakes again. “I just walked in.”

I too take out my phone and start snapping pictures of my bougee-ass husband and his sidekick. Only Lyle would think to pamper a newborn this way. “This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Ugh, right?” Raven groans. “My ovaries did not need to witness this.”

I snort. “Just give that man a baby already.”

Her lip curls in disgust. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to fuck up my vagina just yet.”

I give her a death stare. “Probably not the right thing to say to the one-week post-partem chick who’s still waiting for hers to bounce back.”

“Yeah…I’m holding out to see yours in a few weeks before making my final decision on this whole poppin’ a kid out idea.” She laughs softly. “If that thing resembles anything that even remotely looks like a vagina…I’ll consider it.”

“What the hell makes you think I’m just gonna show you my vag—”

The door swings open, stopping me mid-sentence.