Paul sighed, running a hand through his already-messy blonde hair as he rocked the tiny bundle in his arms. Meadow was barely a few weeks old, wrapped snugly in a soft pink blanket, her little face peaceful—at least for now. It was his weekend with her, the first time he’d had her overnight alone, and the last thing he wanted was to leave her, even for a few hours.

But the call had come in. Production was behind, and they needed him on set.

“Damn timing,” he muttered under his breath, glancing down at Meadow. She stirred slightly but stayed asleep, her tiny fingers curled against his chest. Paul exhaled, looking around his trailer, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down hard. He didn’t want to call Rebecca—it wasn’t that kind of situation. But he couldn’t exactly bring a newborn onto an action set either. He needed help.

“I can watch her.”

The voice was quiet but certain, and Paul turned to see you standing hesitantly in the doorway of his trailer. You were just an intern—new to the set, tasked with coffee runs and script deliveries—but you’d been kind, always quick to offer a hand when he looked overwhelmed. He eyed you for a second, then glanced at Meadow, his instincts warring with his reality.

“You sure?” he asked, shifting his weight slightly. “She’s… kinda unpredictable.”

You smiled. “Most babies are.”

Paul hesitated for another second, then nodded. “Okay.” He carefully handed Meadow over, watching as you cradled her like it was second nature. She didn’t fuss, just nuzzled into you, tiny breaths even and steady. Paul let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

You nodded, settling into the trailer’s small couch, already gently rocking Meadow. Paul lingered for a moment longer before finally stepping out, glancing back one last time to see you humming softly to his daughter, completely at ease.