Page 42 of Curvy Cabin Fever

The first time our little girl smiled, Morgan cried.

Not one of his performative sniffles or dramatic flourishes—he cried real tears streaming down his face, quiet and shaky, his lip trembling as the moment broke something open inside him. He scooped her up and whispered something into her tiny ear that made me ache even though I couldn't hear it. Probably something beautiful and something ridiculous all at once. It's Morgan—it's always both.