“Let’s don’t be one of those couples whose baby goes around for a month with no name.”
“Alice?” he suggested.
“No.”
“Amanda?”
“No.”
“Drucilla?”
“Now you’re making me angry.”
West laughed. “You’re so cute when you’re mad, I can’t help myself.”
Soleil eased herself off the hospital bed. Her pink flannel pj’s were kind of turning West on, but since they had a baby to keep up with and she’d just given birth and all, he figured he’d better keep that fact to himself for now.
Or at least until she was in a better mood.
“How about Juliana,” she said. “It sort of combines both our mothers’ names.”
He looked down at the baby in his arms, who, for the moment, was lying there peacefully.
“Juliana,” he said. “Is that your name?”
“Juliana Morgan,” she said, trying out the sound of it.
“I like it, but I think her middle name should be Soleil.”
She sighed. “Okay, fine.”
There it was. That was their daughter’s name. “Perfect.”
She said nothing, but he could tell she was pleased.
He watched her walk, tentatively, unsteadily, across the room to the window, and his heart swelled with pride. She was his wife, and this life, with her here in California, running the farm, it was the first time he could look around and see that his choices finally resembled his heart, and not anyone else’s.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jamie Sobrato has written nineteen novels for Harlequin. She spent her earliest years on a farm in rural Kentucky, before moving across the country and around the world. Upon seeing the majestic redwoods and rugged beaches of Northern California, she knew she’d found her permanent home, where she now lives with her two children. Jamie can be reached through her Web site, www.jamiesobrato.com.
