Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“But—” Quinn protests and then sighs. “Here’s your daughter,” he mumbles as he hands her to me. “This isn’t fair.” He reaches for his shirt and then mutters, “Someone has to go back on tour,” in a high-pitched voice meant to sound like Elle.
“I’ll miss you,” I tell him as he kisses my cheek.
“I’ll be here until tomorrow.”
“Okay, we’ll be out in a bit, to tell everyone their names.”
“One better be Quinn,” he says, laughing.
When everyone is gone, the nurse helps me get situated in the chair. “Do you want to do skin-on-skin?” she asks.
“I do, but I want to hold them first,” I tell her.
“This is boy A,” she says as she places my son on my right side. Noah’s there, with our daughter in his arms, looking at us.
“And this is boy B. I’ll give you some time.” She pulls the curtain shut behind her.
Noah pulls a stool up next to me and sits down with our daughter. I take each one of our babies in and let the tears roll down my cheeks. It’s hard to tell who the boys look like, they’re definitely a cross between the both of us, and I know the older they get, the more defined their features will be.
“They’re perfect.”
“They really are,” Noah says as he touches the boys with his finger. “Mighty and tiny is what I’ve said to people. You did good, Mama.”
I kiss the boys. It’s easy to bring them to my lips with how light they feel. Boy B grunts or mumbles, it could’ve been either and something he’s already picked up on from his uncle.
“Has Elle seen them?”
“Only through the window.”
“Oh, that’s so sad for my sister. She’ll get lots of auntie time before she delivers.”
“I don’t think she’s worried,” he says. “She’s more concerned with you.”
“Really?” I look at my husband.
“Before I brought her in—” Noah looks at our daughter. “Elle was asleep in the chair next to your bed, and she tried to go be with you in recovery, but they wouldn’t let her. I know it’s a twin thing—your thing with her. She needed to be with you. I imagine she’s a bit torn up inside.”
“Wow.”
“I really hope the babies have the same bond you and your sister have. While a mystery to most of us, seeing you two together is something of a marvel. The way you’re always in sync with each other, know what the other is feeling or know when you need your twin. The bond is unbreakable. I want that for our babies.”
“They’ll have it,” I tell him. I don’t know how, but it’s a twin thing and I’m praying our daughter is included in it.
Noah suggests I do some skin-on-skin with the boys. He helps maneuver them and then reclines my chair. I’m holding them and basking in our body-to-body contact when he places our daughter in the middle.
“Now mommy has her babies,” he says as he wipes at my tears. “This is my picture-perfect moment, Peyton. Seeing you with our children.”
“Really? It’s not because my boobs are out?”
Noah laughs and then deadpans. “I say something nice, and you have to ruin it with a joke?”
I nod. “I’m so emotional right now I need some humor.”
My husband sighs. He kisses me, and then kisses each of the babies. “Nothing but perfection,” he says.
We stay like this, with the babies on my chest and Noah next to me, until it’s time to feed them with the little droppers of the colostrum the nurse helped me pump earlier in the morning. After their feeding and the light pats on their back to get them to burp, Noah and I give them a sponge bath, which none of them care for. Their cries sound like they’re saying la, to which the nurse assures me will change to screaming in months, if not weeks.
After the babies are settled, Noah looks at me. “It’s time.”
I sigh. “Pull out the list.”
He takes a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and sits down next to me.
The nurse hands us a pen. “We’ve been waiting too,” she says, laughing.
“All right, let’s name our children,” I say to Noah. “And pray they like their names when they’re adults and we don’t scar them for life.”
Noah chuckles and then reads the list of names we’ve compiled over the months.
32
NOAH
Normally, I don’t consider myself a smooth talker. I’m not the guy who is going to flirt to get his way or even bat my eyelashes when I need something. I’ve seen Quinn do it with his sisters and those two turn into a puddle of whatever Quinny wants, he gets. Yes, I will do some puppy dog eyes at Peyton if I’m not getting my way, but she’s my wife and it’s expected of me.
With that said, I know when to turn on the charm.