“I hope you know, you tiny terrifying person,” Jake
says, hushed, cradling their daughter close, “that I’m never going
anywhere. Even though my first instinct when your mom was screaming earlier was
to hitch-hike my way to New Mexico and live in the desert, I will never, ever
do that.”
He carefully took her away from Amy after she passed
out, and, so far, she hasn’t started crying yet; she’s just gazing up at him
with big brown eyes.
“God, if you’re anything like your mom, you’re gonna
run circles around me,” he says, laughing softly. “I’m really freaking excited.”
oh my god, they were roommates 