Page 128 of His Surrender

“You asked because you wanted to understand.” She brushes her thumb slowly across the back of my hand. “Good parents don’t know everything. They ask and they learn.” Her eyes hold mine. “You did both.”

I stare at our joined hands.

Somewhere over the past month, holding her hand has become the most natural thing in the world.

“I couldn’t have done today without you.”

She immediately shakes her head. “Yes, you could.”

“No.” I look at her. “I mean it. If you’d told me this morning that Liana was getting sick and you weren’t here”—I let out a slow breath— “I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“You would’ve figured it out.”

“Maybe eventually.” I smile weakly. “But not before convincing myself she needed emergency surgery because she had sneezed twice.”

That earns me a real laugh.

“You are a little dramatic.”

“A little?”

She folds her lips together to try and hide her smile. “A lot.”

“I’ll accept that.”

She laughs again, the sound light enough to loosen something that’s been wound tight inside my chest all day.

I don’t even think. I simply slide one arm around her waist and gently pull her toward me. She comes willingly, settling against my chest as though that’s exactly where she belongs. I wrap both arms around her.

For a long time, neither of us says anything. I listen to her breathing while I feel the slow rise and fall of her chest against mine. Somehow, it steadies my own.

“I’ve spent my whole life believing I had to have all the answers.” The confession surprises even me. “I thought being successful meant always knowing what to do.” I shake my head. “Then Liana came along.”

“And now?” she whispers.

I smile into her hair. “Now I realize the smartest thing I did today was trust someone who knew more than I did.”

She tilts her head back just enough to look at me. “I didn’t know more.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I’ve just been around more babies.”

“Exactly.”

A sleepy smile spreads across her face. “So, next time, you’ll panic a little less.”

I laugh quietly. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

“I wasn’t.” She reaches up, smoothing a piece of hair that fell across my forehead. “But maybe”—her fingertips linger against my temple— “next time you’ll remember that you don’t have to do it alone.”

The thought of raising Liana by myself terrified me from the day I learned she existed. I convinced myself I had to become everything she needed overnight.

Today showed me something different.

Liana didn’t just need me. She needed people who loved her.

Ones who stayed calm when I couldn’t and knew how to comfort her while I was busy imagining worst-case scenarios.