June, 1990
Michael sat in the hospital bed with his arm around Tracey, staring in awe at their new baby in her arms.
"Look at him," Tracey said softly, smiling down at George Michael. George Michael reached up, grasping at her now shoulder-length hair with his tiny fist. Michael and Tracey both laughed. "Hi, baby," she whispered. She looked over at Michael, her eyes shining with tears. "Do you want to hold him now?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said. He carefully took George Michael from her, terrified of hurting him, he looked so fragile. He looked down at his little face and smiled when George Michael looked back up at him with wide eyes. This is our son, he thought. All theirs. He remembered when Tracey had first told him she was pregnant, how terrified he'd been. It seemed so ridiculous now. This was exactly what he wanted, all he could ever want. Just him and Tracey and their son, the three of them making up their own little family. Tracey leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm more tightly around her. He didn't think he'd ever felt closer to her than he did at that moment.
"We're going to make good parents, aren't we?" she murmured.
Michael smiled. "Yes."