Peter sat on the edge of the bed, mesmerised.
Grace was still sweaty and her eyes glistened in the late afternoon sun. It was as if his heart had planted itself in the window and radiated his feelings so the entire world could see. He felt god-like, even though his involvement was nine months ago, and to be fair, didn't last as long as he'd have liked.
His daughter lay in his wife's arms and he still couldn't believe it.
"Matilda," Grace said in a hoarse whisper. "I want to name her Matilda."
Peter brushed the tip of his finger across Matilda's forehead. "Hello, Matilda, I'm your daddy."
A nurse entered, smiled before telling them it was time for everyone to rest. Grace handed over Matilda to the nurse as if she were some precious doll.
"Alright my love," Peter said.
"We'll need to rename the dog," she said as his lips touched her forehead.
Grace smiled at the mere idea that she could talk about anything other than the one dog they owned.
"Why do we need to change her name?"
"Because we can't have the dog share a similar sounding name to our daughter."
"Yes, you know, the daughter I just gave birth to, the one we just named, the one that was just here. Our only daughter."
"Matilda is nothing like Tiggy."
"Yes, one is our daughter, our own flesh and blood."
"Grace," Peter said, resitting himself next to his exhausted wife. "I understand we have a daughter. But I don't understand why we need to rename the dog."
"People will probably call her Tilly."
"But that'll be up to her. We've named her Matilda, so we'll call her Matilda. If we want to call her Tilly, then let's name her Tilly."
"Her name is Matilda, but we need to rename the dog."
"Okay," Peter said. "I'll see you in the morning."
Peter left hoping that as long as he didn't make a big deal out of it, Grace would forget about the whole thing.