"She's perfect," Emma whispered, cradling the newborn in her arms. Six pounds, four ounces of pink perfection, with a dusting of dark hair and what Emma swore were Alek's blue eyes, though the nurses insisted all babies' eyes started blue.

Katie watched from her hospital bed, exhausted but smiling. "She looks like you around the eyes."

Emma glanced up, emotion threatening to overwhelm her. "Thank you seems completely inadequate."

"She's your daughter," Katie said simply. "I was just the temporary housing."

Twenty-eight weeks into Emma's own pregnancy, she sat carefully in the hospital chair, her rounded belly making movement increasingly awkward. Beside her, Alek looked shell-shocked, staring at the infant...