AIDAN

In all my thirty-four years on planet Earth, I’ve only considered a handful of people to be perfect, if any. And if one of them had told me that my list of those people would include the eight-year-old that was currently sleeping in my arms, I would have laughed in their faces.

She was perfect in every goddamn way, and I still couldn't believe that she was mine. That she was my daughter. My flesh and blood.

Hours with her felt like minutes, which was why I was ...