A.J.'s hands shook slightly as he approached his infant son. Cautiously he neared the crib, afraid to startle the boy with fine red hair, a softness A.J. ached to run his fingers along. Wide, chocolate orbs that now studied him, curious. A.J. tilted his head as Michael came closer towards him. "Hey Michael," he crooned softly.
Michael's mouth parted slightly at his name and his eyes warmed at the attention. A.J. swallowed hard, determined not to cry as he smiled at his son. Joint custody. Never had he heard such sweeter words. "Dada."
A.J. stared at Michael, unable to hold back the tears of joy. He was wrong. Joint custody was good, but hearing his child call him Dada, truly was the sweetest thing.
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