“Hank, we want you to hold her first.” Hank’s white brows jump. “Me? Really?” “Really.” His hands come up on either side of his head, shaking and flustered. “Well, okay then. Somebody find me a chair. It’s been a long time since I’ve held a baby, and this one’s extra precious.” Adam helps Hank down to a seat, and Carter places his brand-new daughter in his arms, all seven pounds and eleven ounces of perfection. Nothing but pride and love shine in Carter’s eyes as he brushes her cheek and murmurs, “Meet your pseudo-grandpa, sweet Ireland.”
