Page 122 of Mended Fences

Elena laughed softly from the bed, and I turned so she could see us—me, holding this miracle, looking like a man who’d just had his entire existence rewritten.

I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle the baby burrito in my arms. Elena leaned her head on my shoulder, and we both stared down at the tiny human between us like we’d just discovered fire.

“I think I might actually explode,” I said.

Elena smiled sleepily. “That makes two of us.”

“Sanitizer!Don’t forget the sanitizer. No germs around my baby.”

Everyone froze just inside the hospital room like I’d just yelledfire. The overhead lights cast everything in that washed-out medical glow—too bright, too cold for something this sacred. The faint beep of Elena’s monitors kept tempo with my heartbeat.

Mom held up her hands, mid-squeeze on a tiny bottle of Purell. “Already on it, sweetheart. Chill.”

“I willnotchill. The CDC said?—”

“Chase,” Elena murmured from the bed, her voice low and worn, cradling our sleepy newborn against her chest, “if you cite one more government health guideline, I will launch this perineal squirt bottle at your head.”

I clamped my mouth shut.

Dad and Elliot hovered behind Mom and Tessa like backup dancers in a very emotionally confusing flash mob. Neither seemed sure whether to hug, wave, or kneel before the baby like she was royalty.

“So… can we come in now,” Dad asked, “or is there another level of biohazard clearance required?”

I nodded solemnly. “Step slowly. Speak softly. Sit only when invited.”

“JesusChrist,” Elliot muttered, ducking behind Tessa with a smirk.

They entered in cautious formation, spreading out around the room like they were approaching a live bomb—Tessa on Elena’s side of the bed, Elliot by the windowsill, Dad awkwardly lingering near the footboard, and Mom going straight for the throne.

“Oh… oh my gosh.” Mom gasped. “She’s beautiful.”

Elena smiled and gently shifted the baby into her arms. I hovered—becauseobviouslyI did—like a neurotic hawk with a caffeine addiction, ready to dive-bomb if my mother so much as breathed in the wrong direction.

“Sit down, Mom,” I said, already grabbing the closest chair like I was stagingLes Mis: The Baby Edition.“Support your arms with the pillow. Cradle the head. Don’t breatheonher, just… near her.”

She rolled her eyes as she lowered into the chair. “Chase, I raised four children. I know how to hold a baby.”

I shut up.

But I watched. Every move. Every twitch. Every sniffle.

Mom settled back and immediately burst into soft grandma sobs—the kind that started in the chest and spilled out through her eyes in slow, silent waves.

And okay. Fine. My throat got a little tight, too.

“She’s just perfect,” she whispered, gently rocking her. “What’s her name?”

Elena looked at me.

I nodded, heart thudding so hard I could feel it in my teeth. “Elena picked it,” I said, trying to play it cool even though I’d cried like abitchwhen she told me. “We’d like you to meet… Lucía Emma.”

My mom gasped again. Tessa let out a softoh my god, and even Dad wiped at the corner of his eye like he thought we wouldn’t notice.

Elena’s voice was soft but certain. “She’s named after my mom. Or,moms, I should say.”

Mom blinked rapidly, holding Luci a little tighter. “Oh,sweetheart,” she said, voice cracking again. “That’s… that’s the most beautiful gift.”

I stood off to the side, one hand on the back of the chair, watching the scene unfold like I was somehow outside of it—like I was trying to memorize every breath in case it disappeared.