Seven months ago, when Harry asked me to be his girlfriend, I couldn't have been happier. He was everything I wanted-loyal, caring, funny, and incredibly handsome. It felt like nothing could come between us.
But then our lives changed forever from j...
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London, 8 AM.
Naomi stirred gently, hearing Harper's soft, tiny coos from the bassinet beside their bed. The morning light trickled in, bathing the room in a warm glow, casting soft shadows across the walls. She glanced over, smiling as she saw Harry still fast asleep, sprawled out with one arm stretched protectively toward Harper, even in his sleep. Ever since they'd brought Harper home, he'd developed an instinctive awareness of her every movement and sound.
Sliding carefully out of bed, Naomi leaned over the bassinet, her heart swelling as Harper's wide, curious eyes met hers. The baby was swaddled snugly, her little fists occasionally popping free as she wiggled with sleepy energy. Naomi marveled at her tiny features—the downy blonde hair, button nose, and eyes that mirrored her own.
"Good morning, little love," she whispered, brushing a feather-light kiss on Harper's forehead.
At the sound of Naomi's voice, Harry stirred and blinked himself awake, instantly alert. He rolled over, grinning as he caught sight of them. "Morning, ladies," he murmured his voice husky with sleep but filled with warmth.
Naomi handed Harper over, watching as Harry carefully cradled her. His hands looked enormous around her, and his expression softened as he gazed down at their daughter, a mixture of awe and pride in his eyes. It was a look Naomi was seeing more and more, one that only appeared when he was with Harper.
"Think she's ready to take on the world today?" Harry asked, glancing up at Naomi with a playful smile.
Naomi laughed softly. "Only if her dad can handle the excitement of her very first outfit." She nudged a tiny folded onesie across the bed, a light pink number that they'd picked out together months before.
Harry chuckled, carefully shifting Harper so he could hold her with one arm while reaching for the outfit. He studied the onesie as if it held the secrets of the universe, eyebrows furrowed. "Alright, Miss Harper. Let's get you dressed and ready for the big day," he said, adopting a silly voice.
Naomi watched, amused, as he delicately maneuvered Harper's little arms through the sleeves. It was endearing to see him so focused, his large hands working cautiously to avoid any accidental pinching. But the onesie seemed impossibly tiny, almost absurdly so compared to his hands.
"Honestly, how do parents do this?" he muttered, shaking his head. "It's like trying to dress a doll... or a jellybean."
"She's got those long Lewis arms, though," Naomi teased. "Maybe she'll be as clumsy as her dad, too."
Harry shot her a look of mock offense. "Oi, I'll have you know she's going to be graceful and coordinated. With a bit of her dad's charm, of course." He gave Harper's foot a gentle, playful tickle, and she gurgled in response, her tiny legs kicking with surprising strength.
Once Harper was finally dressed, Harry lifted her triumphantly, as if he'd just conquered an impossible challenge. "Look at her," he said softly, his gaze tender. "Our little nugget, ready to take on the day."
