I looked down at Jennifer’s small face, taking in those big, watchful eyes and the shy, uncertain smile she wore. After all those years of hoping, trying, waiting, here she was, our daughter.
Richard was practically glowing. He couldn’t stop looking at her. It was like he was trying to memorize every feature, every expression.
“Look at her, Marla,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “She’s just perfect.”
I gave him a soft smile, my hand resting on Jennifer’s shoulder. “She really is.”
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