Chapter 194

Back at the hospital, the scene had become a little less calm.

"But we'd agreed on Marie!" Doyle whisper-shouted. Simone was sleeping peacefully against Paris' chest. Paris raised her eyebrows.

She responded calmly, "We didn't, though. I told you a month ago I didn't like it anymore."

"And I said let's see how you feel!"

"And I saw how I felt. She's not a Marie."

"…don't I get a say?"

"You would have if you'd talked to me about it," Paris pointed out, "I tried to talk to you about it several times. You just patronized me, blew it off, and assumed I'd change my mind. I didn't."

"Where did Simone even come from?"

"It was on our original list. You gave it a plus sign," Paris said, "Check your phone if you don't believe me. It's in the shared note from November."

"…it's not that it's a bad name. It's just that you don't care what I think," Doyle said, irritated. Paris looked up at him.

"Do you want to hold her yet? The doctor said it was fine."

"…fine," Doyle said, shooting Paris a confused and perturbed look before holding his arms out. He took the baby gently and lifted her into his chest. After about ten seconds, he held her up, as if he were diffusing a bomb.

"…you can have her back now."

"You barely had her."

"I told you, Paris, I'm not as comfortable with babies. I'll be really involved once she's a child."

"Okay…do you have any thoughts on what we should do for her education?"

"Paris, she literally came out of you less than a day ago."

"Well, if you say you'll be more involved once she's a child, I want to know what that means. Am I just functionally alone in this, or do you actually want to be involved? Or do you just think you want to?"

"…I don't know where all of this is coming from."

"It's coming from the eighteen conversations identical to this that we've had over the last month, Doyle. Maybe it just feels different to you this time because she's here."

"Simone," Doyle said, shaking his head, "Look, she's healthy and she's here. Why do we have to figure out anything beyond that?"

"…I guess we don't. Not right now anyway," Paris sighed, resigned. She was so tired, and anything that wasn't Simone didn't really seem worth a second of her energy or interest. "Are you staying or going home?"

"I think I should go. There's no bed here, and you know how my back gets. But I'm just a call away, okay? And I'll come visit her tomorrow," Doyle promised. Something in Paris' head started spinning at the word visit. She sighed, but nodded.

"Okay. We'll see you tomorrow," Paris said. Doyle kissed her on the forehead before heading out, wearing an expression of combined relief and exhaustion. Once he was gone, Paris let out a long sigh. Simone woke and started crying.

"Shh…shhh…" Paris said, rocking Simone for a moment, before latching her again. Simone suckled contentedly for a moment before drifting back off to sleep.

Paris started at her daughter in wonder. She had never been so amazed by anything in her whole life. She could barely look away from the tiny being attached to her- the so-soft sprinkling of hair atop her head, her wide, pacific eyes, and every tiny toe. Paris was stunned, bowled over, and had been since the moment Simone took her first breath.

Doyle had been different. He seemed happy to meet his daughter, but it didn't appear that his earth had been shaken in nearly the way Paris' had been. In fact, he barely seemed affected at all. Doyle had casually come in and out throughout the delivery, getting snacks from the vending machines, talking to the staff about his new column, and at one point finding his way into another department's waiting room to watch their TV. He'd had the decency to look sheepish once Paris found out. Luckily, he'd been there when Simone was born, and he was around for a little bit of time after. He cut the cord, smiled and nodded at the nurses, and then, once they'd been left alone with their daughter, he'd awkwardly looked at Paris and Simone. After a few minutes, and after he'd refused to hold her ("No, she looks comfortable, it's fine"), Paris had asked if he could get her a cup of water. He'd come back with a cup of ice and said he could go around the corner and buy a bottle, if she'd like.

At that point, Paris was pretty tired. She had just delivered a baby, and she wasn't interested in taking care of a clueless second one. So she'd sent him off with a free pass to go get some snacks and drinks and pick up a couple things from their home, and come back in a few hours. And through those few hours, Paris had gotten to know her daughter. Her beautiful, mind-blowing, life-altering daughter.

A nice nurse had helped Paris get Simone to latch, which fortunately, she'd taken to right away. Paris quickly discovered that Simone loved to nurse, that it was both nourishment and comfort, and even though Paris had initially not been sure she wanted to breastfeed, she now relished every moment of that connection with her baby. This baby who already seemed to recognize Paris' voice, who leaned into her every touch. Paris could see years and years of raising this little person into a full grown human, and the prospect lit her up like nothing had before. Not long ago, she'd called Rory to give her the update, and she'd responded to the text message left forgotten from a few days ago.

Paris mused on Doyle's frustration a moment ago. He'd actually been there when the nurse had first asked for the baby's name, and in fact, Paris had interrupted him when he tried to say Marie. She supposed he might have forgotten because this experience, for him, probably felt stressful. In spite of his incredibly minor involvement in the process. Still, all that said, without the infuriating, ignorant person she was sharing this experience with, she wouldn't have Simone. It was crazy to think.

As evidenced in the moment before, Doyle's avoidance of Simone had continued. He'd come up with a variety of creative excuses and forgetfulnesses to have an excuse to keep leaving. Paris wished she were less tired, so she could find the words to reassure him that he didn't need to be there if he didn't want to. She hoped their last exchange had made it clear, and to be honest, Paris was relieved he was gone.

Sure, it was less than ideal that Paris was alone going through this. But in her own experience, it was always better going through something alone than with someone who made it worse. And truly, she wasn't alone. She didn't think she'd ever really be alone again, now that she had Simone. Simone, although she'd arrived a bit early, had come out very healthy and well grown, of such weight and vitals that none of the doctors posed any concern when Paris wanted to keep her in the room overnight with her, so that she could continue to nurse and bond. The nurses were very kind, and her doctor had been wonderful. The delivery had been painful as all hell, but Paris had never backed down in the face of a little pain, and it was worth every moment.

All that being said, Paris was still looking forward to seeing Rory as soon as she was able to come. The doctors had said they would likely be able to bring Simone home Thursday night or Friday morning, and then Rory would spend the weekend. She hadn't even asked Doyle- she'd just texted him once it was done. He'd given her a thumbs-up emoji in response, and said that worked well, since he thought he'd have a lot of work to catch up on this weekend anyway. Paris had worked to control her internal snort at that- both at the idea of Doyle caring enough about his job to worry about catching up on work, and at the idea that Doyle thought his help was so useful that it would be missed were he not around to give it.

Paris' phone vibrated. Careful not to wake Marie, Paris opened her messages. It was brief, only one sentence.

She's perfect.

And really, she was. It was a matter of fact, not opinion. Everything else in her life, from her work to her marital dilemma to her confused and mixed feelings about some of the other possibilities opening up to her…everything was shrinking in comparison to Simone. Suddenly, it all seemed less urgent, less serious, less worthy of her time and energy. Sure, she still cared about all of those things, and was sure she would. But as long as she had Simone, and Simone had her, Paris had an unshaking sense that the rest would work out in due time.