“I’m afraid to get too excited,” she quickly admitted. I reached for her hand, crumpling the page between us. “Don’t be.” I kissed her forehead. “We don’t know what will happen, so we should be as excited as we fucking want to be.” My lips pressed against her head again. “We need a miracle.” She nodded, trying to joke, but she came off so serious. Seven months later, we had a blond little miracle named Emery.
EMERY???
