I woke in a puddle of my own drool, face-down on a hard floor. This was where I'd landed sometime during the late-night feeding. Ah, the glamourous life of parenthood.

It looked much better on Mase, who was passed out on our bed in the Vicious room, with little Astra Randolph Jones-Ryan sleeping soundly on top of him. Astra, meaning stars. I stared at them for a long moment, the pair of them stealing my breath as always. The two of them together, father and daughter, rushed ...