Page 61 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

And she was perfect.

Oh, so perfect.

“I just, uh …”

“Not quite ready to let her go, son,” Calisto said, chuckling.

Emma grinned beside her husband. “Calisto was the same way with Cam.”

“And Dante, with Catherine,” Catrina added.

Dante gave his wife a look. “I was not.”

“Really, so you didn’t refuse to allow your brothers to hold Catherine when they came to visit. Oh, and your mother, too. Except your father snapped at you, and then you let her hold Catty. I swear, it was cute—”

“That’s enough of that,” Dante grumbled.

Laughter lit up the family waiting room.

Zeke came a little closer, and peered over Cross’s shoulder. “Look at her, man.”

“I know,” Cross murmured.

“She looks like her mother.”

“I know.”

And good God, that in itself was amazing and scary enough. He was holding his whole life in his hands. Every good part of his heart and soul was in this child.

He was not a good man.

He was criminal.

He lived in the gray.

What did he do to deserve the perfection he was holding?

What angel was looking out for him?

Cece made a face, and then those eyelashes of hers started to flutter a bit. Eyelashes for days, really. Her eyes opened, and she locked gazes with her father.

The world stopped turning for a second.

It was like she knew.

He could feel it.

She knew who he was.

The birthing classes had told them that newborns couldn’t see very well for a while after being born. That their vision needed time to adjust, and most things were cloudy to them.

Cross didn’t know about that. His daughter looked at him like she had been waiting to find her daddy for a long time.

“Hey, principessa,” he murmured. “Look at you, mia bambina. You’re so perfect.”

He teased her little clenched fist with his fingertip, and quickly, she wrapped her whole hand instinctively around his finger. She held tight, even minutes later when Cross handed her off to Dante for the first time.

His mother said he had to.

Still, Cece kept hold of his finger.

“Someone knows who their daddy is,” Dante murmured, gazing between his granddaughter, and Cross. “My God, she looks like her mother.”

“Déjà vu?” Catrina asked.

Dante nodded. “Yeah, Cat. Just like déjà vu.”

He didn’t know what the two were talking about, but the silent look they shared told him not to ask.

Somethings were private.

They were meant to stay that way.