George walks ahead, muscles flexing as he carries the baby in the car seat through the clean, echoing halls of the hospital. After his much-needed hot dad walk moving photo for the baby book, he falls into step beside you, offering his spare arm to steady you as you waddle along beside him.

The air outside is warm and fresh, a long-awaited relief as you finally step out. The hours inside had been sacred, painful, yes, but they’d brought your baby earth side. Still, you’re aching to take them home, to begin life as a family without the hourly visits from nurses.

George opens the passenger door for you, then walks around to the other side of the car to buckle the baby in. He slides the car seat into place, and you lean over from your seat to help him fasten it securely. Once the baby is snug and safe, you both pause, gazing down at their chubby, sleeping face. Your eyes meet. You smile. A soft kiss passes between you.

He gently shuts your door, leaving you in a quiet cocoon with your baby for just a moment. Then he climbs into the driver’s seat.

Looking back at the two of you, he asks, “You ready?” as he twists the key. The car rumbles to life, rocking the baby just slightly.

You exhale, placing your hand beside your newborn. Their tiny fist curls instinctively around your finger. You nod.

George grins. “I can’t believe the little one is here, and ours, to keep.”

He pulls onto the road, driving with the slow, exaggerated caution of a man whose whole world now rides in the back seat.