19. Tess #3
Tess studied the tiny grip around his finger and smiled through the tears still sliding down her face.
“Look at her fingers, Camden.”
He lowered his head toward their daughter.
Tess curled her arm closer around the baby.
“She’s got your hands.”
A few hours later, the room had settled into something Tess could finally recognize as quiet.
The lights had been lowered, casting the bed and monitors in a muted glow.
The frantic chaos of the delivery had finally passed, leaving only a deep stillness and the feel of fresh hospital cotton beneath her arms. Her daughter lay swaddled against her chest, one cheek tucked near the collar of Tess’s gown, making small movements beneath the blanket every few minutes as if sleep had not yet convinced her to stay still.
Camden sat sideways on the edge of the mattress.
Tess leaned into his shoulder without asking whether he could take her weight. He shifted closer and gave her room to settle, one arm resting behind her while his free hand hovered above their daughter’s head.
“You can touch her,” Tess murmured.
“I know.”
“Then why are you acting like she’s going to fine you for it?”
His mouth twitched. “She already has your attitude. I’m assessing the risk.”
Tess tipped her head against him. “Coward.”
Camden brushed two fingers over the baby’s hair.
The motion was so careful that Tess almost laughed at him.
This was the same man who used to stand in a collapsing pocket while three hundred pounds of defensive lineman tried to put him through the turf. Now one sleeping infant had reduced him to a man afraid of disturbing a blanket.
The baby shifted against Tess.
Camden froze at once.
“She’s fine,” Tess said.
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I’m trying to convince myself.”
The monitor beside the bed kept its steady rhythm. Beyond the window, there was nothing worth looking at, only hospital glass reflecting pieces of the room back at them.
No phone vibrated against Camden’s leg.
No assistant stood outside with a schedule.
No one had asked when he planned to leave.
Tess let her eyes close for a moment and rested against him.
He isn’t watching the clock.
A low voice came from the doorway.
“Well, listen to that.”
Tess opened her eyes.
Sully stood just inside the threshold with Briggs beside him. Both men stayed back as though an invisible line had been drawn across the floor, and neither intended to cross it without permission.
Sully nodded toward the bundle on Tess’s chest.
“Those lungs were carrying through the hallway earlier. She’ll be bossing the charter captains around my docks before she reaches kindergarten.”
Tess smiled. “You say that like you won’t encourage it.”
“I intend to teach her proper management.”
Briggs folded his arms. “Which means yelling at tourists and pretending the fuel invoices don’t exist.”
Sully glanced at him. “You want to keep your job?”
“No.”
“Good. Saves paperwork.”
Camden looked over his shoulder. “You two came all this way to threaten each other in a maternity ward?”
“We came to make sure everybody was upright,” Briggs said. His gaze fell to the baby, and for a moment, he dropped the usual sarcasm. “Looks like you’ve got it handled.”
Tess adjusted the blanket near her daughter’s shoulder.
Sully stayed where he was. He did not ask to hold the baby. He did not crowd the bed or turn the moment into something he was owed.
His quiet distance meant more to Tess than anything he could have said.
Briggs pushed away from the doorframe. “We’re clearing out.”
Sully grunted. “I’m starving.”
“You ate half the vending machine.”
“That garbage doesn’t count.”
Briggs looked at Camden. “I’ll keep the hallway clear until he quits pretending he knows where the elevators are. Don’t watch the clock, Ford.”
Camden glanced down at the baby.
“Wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
Sully pointed at Tess. “You need anything from the marina, you call.”
“I will.”
“And no spreadsheets.”
Tess gave him a look.
He pointed harder. “I mean it.”
Briggs caught Sully by the shoulder and steered him toward the hall before another argument could start.
Their voices faded beyond the doorway.
Camden turned back.
The room seemed smaller without them, but not empty.
His fingers returned to the top of their daughter’s head.
“I love you, Tess.”
She lifted her eyes to him.
There was no hesitation in him now. No polished delivery. No practiced line.
“I owe you my life for opening that door again,” he said. “For letting me come home.”
Tess looked down at the little girl between them.
“You don’t owe me your life.”
“Tess—”
“You did the work.” She shifted her hand until her fingers found his. “You stayed in the mud when nobody was clapping for you. You kept showing up after I told you no. You walked into that arena and burned down the one thing you used to protect more than us.”
Camden lowered his gaze.
“You paid for every inch of the road back,” Tess said. “Not with money. Not with another promise.”
His fingers closed around hers.
Tess looked at their daughter again.
“We’re safe now.”
Camden leaned close, pressing his lips to Tess’s temple before kissing the top of their daughter’s head.