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Squalling the music of life.

Warming my belly and my heart.

Perfectly healthy with ten fingers and just as many toes. I knew because Gage counted.

Oh, and I was right. We were the proud and exhausted and overjoyed parents of a little girl.

When Gage held her for the first time—swaddled in a customary striped hospital blanket—and cooed about how special she was, and how he couldn’t wait for her to meet her big sister, Eve and cousin Conner, that’s when her name came to me.

“Grace,” I said, barely above a whisper.

“Grace?”

“Her name. It’s Grace.”

He treated me to a devastating smile, accompanied by a flash of his indigo eyes. “Fits her perfectly.”