Rowan’s Point of View
“Babe, what are you doing?” Dylan almost shouted at me when she walked into our bedroom and found me trying to get out of bed.
“I don’t want to be in bed when the baby gets home.”
“He’s not going to care where you are; he’s just going to be happy to see you” she countered.
“But then he’ll wiggle himself off the bed to go play” I pouted.
“Baby, you were shot with the same kind of arrow I was, probably a more potent version of it. You need to rest” she said with her hands on her perfect hips.
“I didn’t make you stay in here all alone, I carried you outside so you could rest and hang out.”
“Alright, fine. Let me carry you outside then.”
“You’re out of your mind! No way, uh-uh, forget it.” There was no way in any world I was going to agree with that.
“The
