Andrew kissed the baby’s cheek, the tenderness of the gesture threatening to tear Astrid’s heart asunder. “You were concerned I might not be smitten with her at sight?”
“Of course not. She’s a pretty girl, Andrew. You didn’t stand a chance.”
“I suppose not,” he agreed, a smile spreading to his every feature. “What shall we call her?”
“Well, we are not calling her Herbertia, or anything ridiculous like that. No H names at all, if you please. I’m surprised we didn’t consider this before—babies do need names.”
“What about Lucy?” Andrew suggested, snuggling his wife and daughter to him more closely.
“For the light she brings? I like it—today is the equinox, isn’t it?”
“It is. Maybe Lucy Elizabeth?”
“I can live with that. I am not sure, however, I can live with waiting three months before starting on the conception of her first sibling.”
“But wait we shall,” Andrew said, smiling ruefully. “And what did you mean her first sibling?”
Astrid kissed him on the cheek. “I meant exactly what I said. Exactly.”
They lasted nine weeks.