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“Harper Trace Matthews,” Taz said. “I like it. I’m glad we finally agreed on a name.
That had been our one and only argument ever, the baby’s name. Taz had been set on “Harley” for his bike. I said no flippin’ way.
I wanted “Harlow” after one of my favorite black and white movie actresses, Jean Harlow.
We had compromised both loving the name “Harper.”
“Harper Trace Matthews,” I said, "you are officially our daughter and we love you so much.”
Taz leaned over her, and brushed a kiss against her little bald head as she nursed.
“I think she’s going to be blond,” he said.
“Yep,” I nodded. “She’s going to be blond-haired with green eyes like yours, Taz.”
“Or yours,” he replied. “I love your eyes, Lindsey.”
“No matter what shade of green her eyes end up, she is going to be exquisite,” I remarked, gazing at my beautiful daughter.
Today was the beginning of little Harper’s life; for Taz and me, it was the beginning of our life together as a family. We were joined in love, and now, we were love plus one.
