AN: Here's my post-finale fic attempt. Hope you all enjoy :)

1.

Harvey steps in a puddle, spraying the water across his new leather shoes.

"Fuck."

Donna side-eyes him. "It did rain in New York too, Harvey."

Harvey aggressively opens his umbrella. "Not this much!"

"You knew what we were getting into when we decided to move here," she says, pushing herself under the umbrella and right into his side. He brings his arm around her back.

"I think I'm regretting it now."

They arrive in front of the firm, simply named Zane Ross in sleek black lettering against the grey stone. It's a smaller building than their old one in New York, but there's a sense of vigor, of helping and rebuilding lives. A woman cuts in front of them, mid-thirties and terribly hurried, clinging onto what Harvey presumes is soggy apartment lease. He can already picture Mike doing what he does best: caring for the client, going all-in with his heart, assuring this woman they'd get the bastard landlord. Now, it might just be what Harvey does best too.

His lips curve into a quiet smile; Donna looks with a smile of her own. "No, you don't," she says.

He keeps grinning. "No, I don't."

They step through the front door, fingers intertwined; it's how they've always been, together and interlocked, from the DA's office to Seattle. He holds on tighter as they watch associates and junior partners bustle around the firm, secretaries pick up phones and paralegals crowd the copy machines, an ebb and flow that reminds Harvey so much of the early days of Pearson Hardman, his chest clenches.

"It's like we're in New York… but also not," she says. "Weird, right?"

"No, no, I get what you mean. I keep expecting to see Louis come around that corner," he replies.

Her hand finds his shoulder blade, thumb near his pulse point. He watches her wedding ring catch the morning light and he has to fight off a grin. It still randomly hits him that he's married. And not just married—married to Donna, his true constant of fifteen years. He leans into her warm touch.

"Let's kick some ass, Specter."

"Let's do it, Paulsen-Specter."

They move their heads to meet in the middle for a quick kiss before there's the clearing of a throat.

"First day on the job and I already have to show you guys the bylaws referring to PDA, huh?"

Mike. Of course, it's Mike.

Mike looks down at his watch. "Not to mention it's 9:03, so technically, you're late."

Rachel stands next to him, rolling her eyes. "Please don't listen to my husband." She walks over to Donna and engulfs her friend into a tight hug. "We're so happy you're here."

Mike stays quiet and Rachel elbows him in the side. "Yeah, we are." He gives Harvey's arm a squeeze. With sincerity, "We really are."

They show their new partners around the firm, pointing out Donna and Harvey's offices that reside side by side. The air has the comforting smell of coffee and freshly printed paper, something so universal and familiar. Voices and laughter linger between the walls. It's difficult work here, but it's the work of people who care: mergers and contracts replaced by people getting to stay in their homes and employees keeping their jobs after unlawful termination. The B-leagues perhaps, but a league that matters.

"It's not much," Mike is saying. "But it's perfect for us."

"No, it's great, Mike. You two have really built this place up," Donna says.

Rachel reveals, grinning, "Mike always hoped you guys would make your way out here. We had to offer a good incentive."

"Alright, let's not get too sentimental," Mike tries to wave them off.

"Good to see the pup still cares too much," Harvey laughs, clasping his friend on the back.

"Says you, softie," Mike bites back.

"That didn't take too long," Donna says to Rachel, giggling.

"What didn't?" Harvey asks.

"For you boys to start bickering like brothers," Rachel answers.

They all laugh; they all feel at home.

2.

They leave the firm every day at 5:30. Go home, make dinner, pour a couple of glasses of wine, simply relish. It's almost strange—the ability to breathe, to have an end to the workday. Their new penthouse is starting to feel normal, the view of the Space Needle taking place of the Empire State Building. It's an expansive condo: open concept, four bathrooms, four bedrooms, the unspoken idea that someday they'll try to fill those rooms. A couple of Lily's painting decorate the walls, warm splashes of reds and yellows and a feeling of family. They've recently started framing pictures from their wedding, their favorite shot one that Samantha captured on her phone: a moment after their first dance with their faces only inches apart and split with wide grins and crinkled eyes; with love.

His hand falls to her thigh and she perches her head into the crook of his neck. Quiet and still, only breaths and heartbeats. They can say everything and nothing at this point in their lives: marriage. Symbiotic and something Donna nearly calls soulmates. To know without having to say, existing as one part of the other. He is not himself without her and she is not herself without him. It took so many years to fully realize it, even if a small sense developed the second they met: their hands swinging back in forth like a pendulum, his hair slick and short, her being more Donna than he'd ever imagined.

"I can practically hear you thinking," he scoffs, breaking her out of her lull.

"As if your brain ever shuts off," she chides, pressing two fingers into his ribs.

"Hey!" He breathes out a yelp. "I'm just saying… we can actually relax. No more drowning in stress over some name on the wall, merger, or—ugh—Faye bullshit."

She sighs. "Pretty nice, right."

"Yeah," he says, "it is."

Another minute of silence. She tilts her chin up toward him, watches his eyebrows move and lips twitch. "You're bored, aren't you?" she deadpans.

"What, no, of course not." He puts on his best smile. "I'm here with you."

She rolls her eyes. "Such a sap. C'mon, let's go outside and explore a little."

"It's freezing," he protests, looking out at the looming autumn sky.

"The greatest closer the world has ever seen can't handle some wind?"

He frowns, then drags her off the couch toward their bedroom. "Fine. But only because you look cute wearing a scarf."

The sky is a hazy grey, backlight with blotches of black and the glow of streetlights, when they step out of their apartment complex. People pass by: couples hand in hand, children bounding ahead of their parents, businessmen and women with phones pressed their ears. She's always loved the rhythm of a city.

They're still becoming familiar with the area. There's a coffee shop a block over they love to go to in the mornings, a Thai place that does delivery, a nearby park that looks beautiful even in the rain, green and alive. Donna insists on walking to work, sparing Harvey from looking for a driver that could ever compare to Ray. She revels in those moments together, the few minutes where it is only them, hands typically enclasped and kisses stolen on street corners. It's easy love, blissful and consuming and infused into each second.

"I've been thinking about getting into acting again," she says suddenly, playing with her wedding band.

"Really?" he asks, growing excitement on his tongue. He's missed seeing her on the stage.

"I finally have the time and there's actually a theater near here and well—"

"You should do it," he cuts in, watches the way her eyes lighten and her shoulders fall, a serenity that barely existed in Manhattan.

"You think so? My acting skills might be a bit rusty," she thinks aloud, her bottom lip caught on her teeth.

His lips curve upwards. "No, Donna, you'll be perfect. And I'll be the proudest husband in the audience."

She buries her face into his shoulder. "Could you not be so goddamn charming for one second?"

"Nope," he says, bringing his mouth to the crown of her forehead. "As if you'd have it any other way."

She kisses him properly on the lips this time. "No, I wouldn't."

3.

He goes to her opening night and is the first one on his feet when the play concludes, cheering and clapping louder than anyone else in the crowd.

"That's my wife," he tells the unsuspecting bystander next to him, beaming. "The beautiful woman playing the lead role. That's my wife."

Harvey sneaks into the backstage area, waiting for Donna to change out of her costume so he can bring her back home and show her just how much he enjoyed her performance. It's chaotic behind the curtain, a rush and thrill of actors and crew moving about, celebrating their first night and preparing for the rest to come. It reminds him of a law firm, the quick moving of feet and fast wit on people's tongues, a lively place in such a small space. No wonder, he thinks. No wonder Donna is so well-suited for both worlds.

He sees a flash of red and calls out her name. She breaks out into a smile at the sight of him, half-walking, half-running over to him. He embraces her into the tightest hug and spins her, bringing her feet off the ground as an elated "Harvey!" escapes her throat.

"So, did you enjoy it?" she asks when he finally puts her down.

"You were incredible. Absolutely incredible. I'd give you the Tony right now if I could," he says.

"You, Harvey Specter, know what a Tony is? You're not even a Broadway fan." She raises her eyebrows.

"Again—I'm a Donna fan."

She kisses him at that. The room around them swirls with costumes being rehung on racks and people rushing to take off their makeup, a swell of noise and excitement, and amongst it all, they hold onto each other; a steady center within the world's push and pull.

"What was your favorite part?" She prompts as they exit out the back and begin the walk back toward their penthouse.

"Definitely when you started screaming at that douche of a guy," he snickers. "It took every fiber in my body not to yell 'That's my girl!'"

"The people we had to deal with in New York definitely gave me more than enough experience for that scene," she comments, giggling.

"I'll have to take Mike and Rachel to tomorrow night's performance."

"You want to come again?" she asks, stopping on the sidewalk. "Even though you know exactly how it will go?"

"Of course," Harvey says. "I'll never grow tired of watching you."

4.

"Only ten more weeks," Donna says to Rachel, placing her hand on her friend's growing stomach.

"I can't believe it," Rachel smiles. "I'm so excited to meet them."

"It's a boy," Donna says. "Definitely a boy."

"You sound pretty sure of yourself."

"I'm his aunt. I know these things."

Rachel leans her head against Donna's shoulder and it reminds Donna of the early years, back in New York, when it sometimes felt like only them against it all. When Harvey would burn in anger and Mike would nearly get caught and Donna and Rachel clung onto each other, wondering when it would all hit its boiling point.

It's amazing how far they've come since those days; now, they sit in the living room of Mike and Rachel's apartment while Mike and Harvey put the final touches on dinner ("Mike's become quite the chef since we moved out here," Rachel had proudly told them). Weekly dinners have quickly become a thing between the two couples, allowing them to relish in each other's company and forget about the stresses of work.

Over in the kitchen, Harvey sits at the island, nursing a beer. Mike stirs the pasta, adding in another sprinkle of parmesan cheese.

"Baby Ross is coming pretty soon," Harvey says. "You nervous?"

"If this is you about to give me some parenting advice, I don't need it," Mike says over his shoulder.

"I don't know, Mike. I have pretty good experience dealing with a certain kid who didn't like listening to the adults," Harvey laughs into his beer, remembering the days of when Mike was his associate.

"You're such an asshole," Mike quips, but it's only half-hearted, looking at his friend with a grin.

"An asshole you chose to be your kid's godfather if I remember correctly," Harvey remarks, raising his eyebrows.

"Sadly, I have yet to find someone to replace you as my best friend, so I was left with no other option," Mike jests as he starts filling up everyone's plates.

"Keep telling yourself that, bud," Harvey says. "You know you love me."

Mike brings his hand to his chest in mock horror. "How dare you accuse me of caring about someone who isn't myself or Donna? Wait—I think that's you."

"That's definitely me, Mike. Exactly why I decided to uproot my whole life and move to fucking Seattle." He narrows his eyes. "You really couldn't have picked a closer city?"

Mike rolls his eyes before calling out, "Rach, Donna, dinner's ready!"

Their wives meet them in the dining room and everyone takes their respective seats. Moving back into the rhythm between the four of them had be like second nature; it was still strange to think they once spent so many months so many miles apart. The second Donna and Harvey landed in Seattle, it had been like nothing changed—except that they were now spending time with their friends as two married couples.

Harvey takes Donna's hand under the table and smooths his thumb over her silver ring, relishing in how real it is. He doesn't have to dream anymore. He's happily married. He works with his best friend and his wife works with hers. They've reached their happy ending.

When he looks over at her, he knows she's thinking the same thing.

Mike pours everyone wine except for Rachel; she reaches for the sparkling cider.

And before everyone digs into their meals, Rachel raises a glass. "To family."

The rest echo: "To family."

5.

William Harvey Ross is born on a Tuesday. It's a rare day in March where the sun never leaves and the sky stays golden. Almost like the world knows, so bright and warm, welcoming the latest addition to their Seattle family.

Mike lets Harvey hold the newborn first, tearily smiles when he notices the older man's eyes grow wet too. Will sleepily blinks at Harvey with his father's baby blues and it nearly takes Harvey's breath away, seeing parts of his best friend already in his hours-old godson. Harvey remembers when he met Marcus' children as babies—but that was always weeks, sometimes months, after their births, back during the days when Harvey buried himself in work and couldn't see the rest of the world. This is something different, something special: to be one of the first people William ever meets.

Ever loves.

"I always knew that if we had a son, his middle name would be Harvey," Mike says softly.

Harvey musters a quiet "Thank you," his gaze never leaving Will. The connection is already there, tangible and instantaneous. The once cocky and arrogant closer lets out a soft gasp as the newborn wraps his fingers around Harvey's pointer finger.

"Donna," Harvey breathes and his wife gives him a knowing smile.

"He's beautiful," she says, leaning into Harvey and swiping her thumb across Will's forehead.

"Definitely gets that from his mom," Mike says, glancing at Rachel. Rachel grabs his hand and gives it a kind squeeze, looking tired yet at ease, gorgeous and regal in the way she always does.

"Hopefully he'll get his dad's memory," Rachel says.

"And actually go to Harvard," Harvey jokes.

Mike gives him a sour look. "Thanks for that one, old man."

Donna pokes Harvey in the arm. "Okay, it's time to let Aunt Donna hold baby Will."

Harvey passes Will over to his wife, gently placing the newborn in her arms. He's seen her hold Lucy Litt before, but it never fails to make him grin, seeing his future so clearly. Will immediately snuggles into Donna's chest, letting out a quiet and easy breath. She breaks into a watery smile.

"I can't wait to spoil you rotten," she says.

Rachel's parents, Jessica, Louis, the other members of the old firm have all made plans to visit Seattle and meet Will as soon as they can—but there's something right about it being the four of them at this moment. It was Harvey who hired Mike to Pearson Hardman. It was Donna who decided she and Rachel would be best friends. It was Harvey who brought Donna from the DA's office. It was Mike who believed Rachel would be more than a paralegal. It always led back to those four, through the triumph and heartbreaks. And it was what brought them to Seattle, to their own firm, to their own fresh start. Together.

Mike pulls out his phone. "C'mon, let's get a picture of Will and the godparents."

Harvey wraps his arm around Donna. They look up at the camera and smile. Sometimes, love goes beyond blood.

6.

He appears in her office with a bouquet of lilies.

"Harvey, what's this for?" she asks, lithe with welcomed surprise.

"Can't a husband surprise his wife every once in a while?" he counters, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

"My husband definitely can." She brings her hand to the back of his head and kisses him deeper, lingering for one, two, three—

"Jesus christ guys," comes a voice passing by her office. "You have a home. With a bedroom. In fact, I've seen it myself."

Harvey pulls away and looks at Mike with daggers in his eyes. "I've seen you and Rachel sneak into the file room, Robin. Don't you even try."

Mike opens his mouth to protest but sulks away instead, rushing over to speak to his new associate before Harvey can get into the gruesome details.

Donna shakes her head with a laugh. "Now, where were we?"

"I think I was about to take my wife to the nicest restaurant in the city," he says and takes a hold of her hand, leading them out of the firm.

He's traded in his typical tie for a bowtie, looking akin to how he did on their wedding day. She watches him from across the table and it takes her back: him grabbing onto her hand, proposing marriage right then and there, his words uttered with more love than she ever knew possible. It had been the best day of her life, vowing to herself to the love of her life. Him slipping the ring onto her finger before taking her onto the dance floor, moving and swaying, falling in love all over again.

"What?" he asks.

"Just thinking about when we got married," she replies. "It was the best day."

He smiles. "It was."

"But also," she ponders, "it feels like each day since it's gotten even better."

"You really are the perfect woman, Donna Paulsen-Specter."

She feels her cheeks grow warm, red dusting her pale skin. "Thank you for tonight, Harvey. This place is amazing."

"I knew you'd love it."

A beat. She poses gently, "Did you think we'd end up here?"

"The restaurant?" He cocks his head. "I mean, the reservations were kinda hard to get but—"

"No, no," she shakes her head. "Us. Married. Husband and wife. That whole deal."

"I mean, I thought we might find our way to each other eventually," his lips fall into a flat line, thinking. "But married? Not exactly. I never thought I was husband material."

She looks to make a joke, something about how he doesn't know just how husband material he is, especially in a suit, but he has a seriousness to his eyes, dark and unwavering. Tentatively, she asks, "What changed?"

It's simple: "You. When I'm with you, I see everything. And marriage happened to be a part of that." His hand finds hers once again.

It's hard not to be publicly indecent and kiss him hard right then and there, attempt to pour enough passion into the press of her lips to match the feeling in her heart. Rather, she says, "Y'know, when you proposed married eight years ago and I joked that we had been married for the past seven years, I don't think I was completely joking. I think a small part of me wanted it."

He laughs at the memory, eyes crinkling and dimples deepening, so Specter of him. "I'm just thinking about all the times Louis called you my work wife."

"Our friends never were far off, were they?"

"Never. It was just us being stubborn that kept us from tying the knot since… well… I'd have happily married you the day we met."

She narrows her eyes, playfully. "More like you being stubborn. I was ready to go all-in before you ever were."

"Me?" He scoffs. "How about Stephen Huntley? Thomas?"

"That's because you were being stubborn!" But she's laughing and he's laughing and they wouldn't have it any other way.

7.

Seven months in and Specter is officially added to the wall. Zane Ross Specter. Harvey grins; he had always wished to share space on the wall with his close friend.

The move from junior to senior to name partner had been swift; the deciding vote came down between Rachel, Mike, and Donna respectively and getting a unanimous yes was a sure thing—minus Mike dicking around as he paused and thought "Hmm, I don't know…" before Rachel gave him a good swat.

"Feels right to see your name up a wall again," Donna says. He lets his gaze drift from the trio of names to her, his ever guiding wife.

"It does, doesn't it?" He straightens his tie with a confident grin.

"Although, I'm surprised Mike didn't try to force you back you into the bullpen first," she laughs.

He smirks. "The kid wishes. He knows I'll always be the boss."

"And Rachel?"

"Yeah, no, I'm scared to mess with her."

"As you should be."

He asks, "Would you ever want your name up there?"

"I mean, isn't it already?" She brushes her hand over the S in Specter.

He beams at that, dusting a kiss to her temple.

8.

Cynthia Wells, a plaintiff on the firm's latest class action suit, lets out a kind laugh: "Is everyone at this firm married?"

Donna chuckles. "The main partners, yes. My husband, Harvey, and I got married last year and decided to move out here to follow our friends."

"Moved from where?"

"New York."

"That's quite the city to leave."

"It is," Donna nods. "But the people here are pretty much our family. It wasn't that hard of a decision to make."

"A family," Cynthia quietly smiles. "That's what made me want to hire you guys in the first place."

"Really?"

"Mhm. The second I stepped into here, I knew this wasn't just another firm—it was a place full of people who cared about each other. Not many firms feel like that."

Donna smiles. "I'll be sure to tell my other partners that. Now, did you bring in your tax returns as we discussed over the phone?"

Cynthia picks up her purse and starts pulling out a manilla folder when Donna hears the door to the conference room swing open.

"Donna," Harvey calls in a way that's so Harvey of him. Almost like a melody. Don-na.

"I'm in the middle of something here, Harvey—" she pauses when she notices what's in Harvey's arms, precisely who's Harvey's arms.

Will tugs on Harvey's black tie, giggling when his godfather looks down at him with a half-hearted scowl. Donna can't help but start to break out into laughter too—it's hard to take your husband seriously when he's holding a baby who wears a beanie with bear ears.

"Looks like you've got your hands full there," Donna comments with a smirk.

Harvey rolls his eyes, one for the dramatic, and says: "Somehow, Mike pawned off Mini Ross onto me for the day. I guess their babysitter canceled and apparently, I looked like I wasn't busy enough."

"I'm surprised Mike didn't strap you into the baby Bjorn."

"He wanted to make it out of today with both legs intact," he mocks, the former New York City closer still carrying his signature bite.

But the confident and fierce facade soon crumbles as Will begins to let out a small whimper, the tremble of lips and blue eyes growing wider, drowning like the ocean. He clings onto Harvey's finger and stares up at his godfather as the tears start to spill.

"Hey Will, hey, shh, you're okay, you're okay," Harvey says, his voice shifting into a whisper so kind, Donna almost can't breathe.

He begins bouncing the baby in his arms and looks over at Cynthia sympathetically, "I'm so sorry. I think he's just tired."

"Don't worry," Cynthia assures, "I have two children myself."

He smiles at her before exiting the conference room, softly rocking Will back and forth, whispering again: "C'mon Will, let's go back to my office. I've got a really comfy couch. You're gonna love it, little man."

Cynthia turns back to Donna. "That's quite the husband you have."

"Yeah," Donna says, dazed. "He is."

"Do you two have children yourself?"

"Oh no." Donna waves her off. "At least, not yet."

"Well," Cynthia says, "he seems like he'll make an amazing father."

Donna isn't going to pretend she hasn't imagined it before: their children, with her fiery hair and his brown eyes. Small feet pounding down the hallway and jumping into their parents' bed, joyous laughter and kisses peppered to her cheek and his. A penthouse so full of life and love, Donna won't remember what life was like before it.

Quietly, her mouth a soft curve, she agrees: "He will."

9.

"I want to start trying," she whispers that night.

He breathes: "You—"

"A family, Harvey. I want to have a family with you."

There's a pause, and she wonders if she said it too suddenly, even if she knew deep down they'd end up here someday. There's a pause and he slowly blinks… and takes her face into his hands, kisses her so wholly that she doesn't want him to break away. But, eventually he does and his grin is splitting. "Yes," he says, bright like the stars. "I do, too."

She says: "It doesn't have to be right this sec—"

He kisses her again. "Is it selfish to say I want it to?"

She pulls him in closer, fingers in his hair and his hands on her hips, wanting and desiring. He tastes like late-night bourbon and smells of Seattle rain and sometimes she questions how she didn't kiss him sooner. But she doesn't dwell too long; he's her husband now, the long years and missed moments no longer important for they will always be connected in life and law. His lips smooth over her jaw, her neck, knowing where to lean in just right. She makes quick work of finding the hem of his old Harvard tee and yanking it over his head, revealing his tanned chest.

She knows the intricacies of Harvey Specter, every dip and line and curve, and yet, she never wants to stop relearning. Her fingers fall over each bend and slope, listens to the way he sucks in his breath and gives in to her touch. It's almost sacred, his body falling praise to her.

He whispers into her ear, low and beyond reason: "I love you so much."

And that's what makes it even better; sex for them isn't just passion. It's love.

Clothes are shed and they unravel into the darkness. He later falls asleep with his face pressed into her neck, much like the very first night they spent together as a couple. She stays awake for a few minutes longer, dragging her fingers over the muscles of his back, thinking they could have just changed their lives forever. Yet another version of their partnership: parenthood.

When they walk to work in the next morning, they pass by a store selling baby clothes and she notices her husband pause, his lips twinging into a smile and his grip on her hand a bit tighter. He lights up when she mentions baby names and sends her a list of his own ideas one afternoon. She laughs, thinking: if only New York knew that the great Harvey Specter has baby fever.

It takes only two months before Donna finds herself looking down at a positive sign. Tears immediately cloud her eyes and she brings a hand to cover her mouth, a mixture of elation and surprise sweeping across her features. Parents. She and Harvey are going to be parents.

Harvey cries when she hands him a Yankees onesie, pulling her into an impossibly tight embrace as he says, "You're pregnant." Then, softer, with such mirth and wonder: "I'm going to be a dad."

His palm finds her flat stomach and he lowers himself, whispering, "I can't wait to meet you."

10.

"Welcome to the world, Avery Lily Specter."

Donna looks from her asleep daughter in her arms up to her smiling husband. His hair is haphazard, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, smudges of black under his eyes, but he stays smiling. Happiness, she decides, is his best look.

"You did it," he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She knows she looks worse for wear, still gleaming with sweat and ragged with exhaustion, but he looks at her as if she had hung the moon.

"We did it," she corrects. "You let me almost break your hand an hour ago."

"It was the least I could do," he says softly, lovingly. His eyes drift down to their daughter—god, it's hitting Donna all over again. They have a daughter. Seven pounds, six ounces of them. His hand looks so large against the back of Avery's head and Donna thinks, this perfect man will do anything for our daughter.

Harvey's lips tick upwards. "She has your nose."

"And your dimples," she adds.

"Half Specter, half Paulsen," he lets out a light laugh. "She's gonna be a force to reckon with."

"Hear that, Avery?" Donna asks quietly. "Your daddy and I can't wait to see what you'll do."

They fall quiet, all eyes on their daughter, reveling in this moment. The past couple of years have been a whirlwind: marriage, moving to a foreign city, starting new jobs, getting pregnant, and now, being parents. Unpredictable, yes, but Donna wouldn't have it any other way. As she had said in her vows, "I can never go back to the way I was before."

She thinks of the moments to come: first word, first steps, first day of school. It's exciting and nerve-wracking and tearjerking.

Harvey looks over at Donna and there is a glint to his eyes that makes her wonder if he can read her thoughts. He moves closer, his lips soft against hers, saying more than any words could. On the outside, it's a simple sight: a husband and wife sharing a kiss with their daughter between them. But, to them, it's everything: everything they never expected, but everything they truly wanted.

"I love you. I love our daughter." He adds, "And I love what our life has become."

She smiles and thinks: no amount of time with them will ever be enough.