I open my arms and he climbs into my lap, still staring. His eyes are such a stormy, serious blue. Wisps of wavy blond hair poke up and out from around the tiara. Every feature is small and vulnerable. He scares the absolute hell out of me. My feelings for him scare the absolute f**king hell out of me. And that’s how I know they’re right.
Drawing the purple sheet up to my shoulder, he leans closer and I fight the urge to crush him close, watching Dori over his head. Her tears are incompatible with her blissed-out grin, like rays of sun hitting the ground during a rainstorm. Silly, beautiful girl – wearing my ring, sharing my bed, accepting my child, my past and my future.
My son’s small finger touches the outer corner of my eye, releasing a tear. Damn. I know Graham and Emma are watching, but no matter how exposed I feel, I can’t move. I don’t breathe.
‘No cry, Daddy,’ he whispers, warm breath under my chin, his cheek against my heart.
And then everyone is wiping tears away, and Graham and I look at each other in silent agreement that this moment is between the four of us and is going nowhere. Ever.
Cara takes River’s hand and tugs. ‘C’mon, River.’ Sliding off my lap, he allows himself to be led away, and none of us can contain our laughter when Cara murmurs, ‘That’s another thing you need to remember about families – sometimes everyone is just weird.’