Alexander chuckled, “Appreciate it.”
Clip moved forward and looked at our girl, then he looked at me and asked, “Seriously?”
I frowned, “What?”
“You had to recreate yourself?”
Everyone chuckled.
Then my dad stepped forward and looked at Alexander, “May I?”
Alexander grumbled and then growled, “Five minutes.”
I giggled.
I looked at our family and said, “Please welcome Annabelle Rose Lawrence. Belle for short.”
Mom gasped when she heard her middle name.
“You didn’t give me life, but you showed me how to live. You taught me how to be a good person.”
My dad wrapped my mom in his arms as she burst into tears.
Then, once five minutes were up—yes, Alexander watched the clock—he stepped forward and took Annabelle from my dad.
He grumbled.
I burst into laughter.
Three days later, with the Tahoe loaded down with everything from flowers to chocolate, to gift bags, to bears, and ammo—yes, you read that correctly—ammo, we headed home.
And my man drove fifteen miles under the speed limit and flipped off anyone who dared get close to us.
***
Ten months later... whoops.
We had a literal play-by-play.
All the way up to when Alexander grabbed Christian Stephen Lawrence out of my dad’s hands when his five minutes were up.
Uncle Knox didn’t burst into tears when I informed him we named Christian after him.
No, he stomped forward, pressed a kiss on my forehead, then he grabbed Christian from Alexander’s hands.
And when five minutes were up, Alexander went to grab Christian, Uncle Knox growled.
Dad glared, “Seriously?”
Alexander looked at him and lifted a brow, “What?”
Dad pressed a kiss on Annabelle’s forehead, who he was currently holding, then he said, “You about jerked Belle out of my arms. But not Knox?”
Alexander shrugged, “You didn’t hold my world when I almost died. He did.”
“But I created your world,” Dad growled.
Alexander nodded, “You did. But I haven’t forgiven you for daring to say you were ashamed of her. Don’t push it.”