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He looked… afraid. That was the only word Emily could think of to describe him. His hands curled and uncurled into fists by his sides, and he swallowed thickly.

“My child,” he whispered. “I… I never imagined… Emily, I don’t know what to do.”

She smiled at him, patting the rumpled sheets beside her. “Come sit.”

He came, crawling onto the bed, sitting up and putting his hands in his lap like a nervous schoolboy.

Chuckling, Emily handed him the swaddled bundle. “Here, take him.”

“Him? It’s a boy?”

She nodded. “It doesn’t matter, of course. But we have a little boy.”

“I think I would have liked a little girl too,” Cassian murmured. “I rather had my heart set on a pair of twins, like you and your sister. You two are so close, and I don’t… I don’t want my child to be alone.”

He held the swaddled child a little awkwardly at first, but then he seemed to relax into it, cradling the baby in the crook of his arm.

The baby blinked up at him, then opened his mouth, revealing gums and a tiny pink tongue.

“He’s beautiful,” Cassian said, sounding almost bewildered.

Emily shifted to lean against her husband, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Yes, I know,” she murmured. “What shall we call him? I thought we could name him after your brother if you want.”

She glanced up at him, trying to read his expression.

The past few months had only cemented their love for each other. Marriage was certainly not the rosy, flower-scented affair that romance novels portrayed. It was something deeper, more difficult, and simply almost impossible to define. At times, Emily was only sure of two things in her life—that she wanted to paint and that she loved Cassian.

“No,” Cassian said, the words seeming to come with an effort. “We might give him Matthew as a middle name, but I want my son to be his own person. I don’t want to think of my beloved brother every time I look at my son, and I don’t… I don’t believe that Matthew would want that for him either.”

“Very well. I’m open to suggestions, then.”

Cassian thought for a moment, tentatively reaching down and running his finger across his son’s forehead.

“How about Arthur? It’s a classic name, very heroic.”

Emily smiled, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. “Arthur is perfect.”

They sat in silence, staring down at their newborn son. The grandfather clock in the corner began to chime, making Emily flinch.

She smiled to herself. “Happy birthday.”

“What? Hm?” Cassian glanced up at the clock, then gave a surprised chuckle. “Ah, of course. I am thirty years old. I must say, it’s nice to share a birthday with my son.”

“But this means that you’ll receive your inheritance. You fulfilled the terms of your father’s will. You produced an heir before your thirtieth birthday. You did it, Cass!”

He was silent for a moment, then broke out into a slow smile.

“I do believe you’re right. I have done it. Do you know, I entirely forgot about my father’s ridiculous deadline. I only thought of you, Emmie, and our baby.”

“That’s as it should be,” Emily murmured, smiling.

Cassian lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, Emily,” he rasped. “I cannot imagine what my life would have been like without you. And I cannot imagine how it would have been like if you had not… if you had not fought for me the way you did. I certainly did not deserve it.”

“You are too hard on yourself, Cassian,” she reproved, lifting her hand to his cheek. “You always have been. I do not like it. I loveyou, remember? One doesn’t mind fighting for those one loves.”