Whispers

 
 

marvels

Her heart is full as she stares down at the tiny bundle in her arms. "She's perfect," Rogue marvels.

Remy runs one finger across the downy hair, the silky cheek, and then smiles when their daughter's fingers cling to his. Burning red eyes meet Rogue's. "Oui, she is."

They speak softly over the sleeping child, their eyes and hands saying so much more.

She is a marvel, this baby girl snuggled tenderly at her mother's breast. She has her mother's nose, her father's chin, and her own warm brown eyes.

Rogue kisses the long lashes, the tiny fist. "Love you."

 


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