The tender feelings surrounding Dahlia tightened almost painfully as she watched her husband's finger touch their child. His gesture, his softness, and gentleness spoke more to her than words ever could. Tears of happiness pricked at her eyes as she turned her gaze to Quin's finding his on their daughter's face instead. This was them. This was their family. This was love and happiness and fairy tales.

His lips grazed her temple, gentle, loving. She met his smile with her own, pressing their daughter to her chest. She looked down at their daughter as she blinked sleeply up at Dahlia, her little mouth forming a perfect o. "Marigold. Little Mari." Dahlia found the words falling from her lips, a sort of rightness in them. They had not discussed Marigold as a name and yet it seemed to call out to her. A simplicity, a tie from one life to another, bringing her daughter into the fold of a line of loving strong women, nestled safely in her gossamer sugar cocoon of her father's.