Claiming Serenity(92)

Donovan sat next to her, leaning down to pull the thin blanket over the baby’s shoulder when it fell. “There’s never been a more perfect baby ever.”

She smelled divine, soft, delicate scents that Layla couldn’t place and when she took her daughter’s hand and the baby instinctively wrapped her small fist around Layla’s finger, she thought that no moment had ever been more beautiful, no woman had ever felt so full.

The baby’s skin felt fine, like satin and the bones beneath it were delicate but strong—that prominent Donley chin and jaw, the beautiful slope of a button nose and when she blinked awake and stared at Layla like she knew exactly who she was, and the young mother’s breath stuck in her lungs. Perfectly round, crystal eyes that were identical to Layla’s tried to take in the world around her.

“She’s your clone,” Donovan said, kissing Layla’s forehead.

“No. She’s got your chin, your jaw. Those eyes, well…”

“I know. How long have I looked at eyes just like those?” Donovan leaned down further, moved his arm around Layla to hold them both against his large chest. “She’s so damn perfect, baby. Just…” and Donovan’s voice cracking, the labored inhaling of his breath and that precious little body squirming on her lap was all it took for Layla to lose it completely.

“How…” Donovan’s fingers against her face felt warm, comforting, “how can you love someone you’ve just met so damn much?” She didn’t have an answer for him. Layla didn’t think there were words that would come close to describing the swell of pride and love and joy that fought for dominance in her chest. The moment was magical, surreal, and she gladly shared it with Donovan, understood when the silence was all they needed.

“Look what we made.” His voice was a whisper again, so different from his usual tone. He sounded awed, overwhelmed as he moved his large fingers over that tiny forehead, down to the deep arch of those tiny pink lips. “Look what we did, baby.”

She was perfect and flawless and completely theirs.

“I’d give up Honey for her.” Layla blinked away her tears, gaze stuck on that precious face as she leaned against Donovan. “You were right.”

“Nah, we’ll build a fence.” She loved him for his compromise and she knew, at that moment both of them would agree to just about anything.

Sadly, Layla thought, that probably wouldn’t last.

The fence would work. Their backyard was big enough and she knew Honey would enjoy the chance at being left alone out there. They’d bought a tiny cottage three houses away from Joe’s in the older section of Cavanagh. It was white with a small front porch and two bedrooms that she and Donovan, and all of their friends had painted and organized in the last nesting phase of her pregnancy.

Her father had been overjoyed when Donovan asked her to marry him—a spontaneous idea that he’d been unable to keep to himself once she’d agreed and so Layla and Donovan went to their church and Father O’Bryant married them quickly, grumbling that they didn’t want a mass, but eager to have them married before the baby arrived.

The vows were simple, very Layla, very Donovan, small words of agreement, no demands of obeying.

“I’ve probably loved you forever,” he’d admitted. “I doubt I’ll ever stop.”

It had been enough for Layla, more than enough to satisfy her pushy father and only made that ridiculous smile on his face grow.

Layla had entered the hospital at midnight, newly married with dry paint on her elbow from the last minute touch up work on the hallway baseboards. She’d leave with her husband and her baby, to return to the small cottage their parents helped them purchase with the promise that Layla’s upstart clothing line would continue to grow.

Their parents had helped them, thrilled about the prospect of their first grandbaby and the idea that Layla and Donovan’s marriage had healed some of the scars Mr. Donley’s betrayal had caused. It was a slow process, tentative and awkward at first, but their families were healing and taking steps towards returning to the friendly companionship they’d once shared.

Parsons would come, or it wouldn’t, and graduation had brought Layla and Donovan closer to the lives they were building together. She didn’t care about New Zealand and he didn’t seem to either, deciding instead on an assistant coaching position at the private school they’d both attended as kids.

The door flew open and the second Layla spotted the wide smiles on her friends’ faces, a fresh wave of tears flooded her eyes.

“Sweetie, oh wow,” Autumn said, pulling Sayo and Mollie, who both greeted Layla with a kiss, to the side of the bed. The redhead’s eyes widened as she rubbed the fine, white hair on the baby’s head. “Oh, she’s so beautiful. We knew that from watching them bathe her, but really, Layla, she’s just so stunning.”