"Père..." Rebecca pulls on his leg. "Don't you want t' play with us?" Her pout will be as devastating as Rogue's when she's all grown up.
"In a minute, p'tite."
Remy lets the calendar slide out of his fingers and draws in a shaky breath.
This is real.
His gut says, too easy, too soon. His head says, already a father, no different. His heart feels like something hit it—very, very hard.