By the third day, Kayla had recovered enough strength to sit up, her color finally returning. The twins had also been cleared to leave the incubators and were brought to the room.
When it was just the two of them in the suite, Kayla turned her head to look at Lyra and asked softly, "What kind of man is Waylon Grayson?"
Lyra froze for a second, lowering her gaze. "He's a good guy," she murmured.
"Once I'm fully recovered and out of confinement, I want to formally thank him." Kayla gently patted the tiny, impossibly soft baby sleeping next to her. She looked up at Lyra. "Will you come with me?"
Lyra hesitated, but eventually gave a soft nod. "Okay."
She honestly didn't know how to feel. In the most terrifying, critical moment of Kayla's life, it was Waylon who stepped up and protected her.
It made total sense that Kayla felt indebted to him.
She couldn't blame Caleb, either. He had been working grueling overtime for weeks, practically living between the corporate office and the manufacturing plants. With Lyra taking a step back from Fairchild Holdings, all the pressure had fallen squarely on his shoulders.
"Just focus on resting right now, Kayla. When you're all healed up, I'll go with you wherever you want."
Kayla offered a gentle, warm smile. "Thank you."
...
The Fairchild family had planned to find an appropriate time to formally invite Waylon over to express their gratitude. To their complete surprise, Waylon showed up at the hospital on his own accord.
He stood by the bassinet, his eyes remarkably soft as he looked down at the sleeping baby girl. "Have you chosen names yet?"
Delilah had actually consulted a traditional naming expert, but the family hadn't finalized anything.
Kayla looked slightly embarrassed. "Not yet."
Waylon's voice was perfectly calm. "Why not Iris? Iris Fairchild."

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