Papa places a steadying hand on my shoulder. “You’ll wear a hole in the floor, Lorenzo.”
“Shouldn’t they have called me by now? What if something’s wrong—with Izzy, with the babies?”
My breath comes in sharp bursts.
Then, finally, the door to the operating room opens. A nurse steps out, her expression unreadable.
“Mom and babies are all doing well,” she says. “I’ll take you to them now.”
Relief slams into me.
I follow her down the corridor, still half-numb, until we stop outside a door. She opens it.
There she is.
My wife.
The love of my life.
And our children—three perfect little bundles resting peacefully on Izzy’s chest.
She gives me a sleepy smile as I step closer. Dark circles under her eyes.
I press a kiss to her temple. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Want to meet your babies?”
I nod, overwhelmed.
She gently guides me to lift one. I fumble a bit, not sure I’m holding them right.
“That one’s Giulia,” she whispers.
We’d settled on names early—triplets were enough of a surprise, we didn’t need any more. Giulia is named after my mamma—she cried when we told her.
“And this isChiara,” she continues, “and Leonardo.”
“You got your wish,” I murmur.
She squints at me. “What wish?”
“You wanted three kids.”
“You remembered that?”
“Of course. I remember everything you say to me.”
Her smile is soft, her eyelids already drooping.
I set Giuliagently in the crib, then take the other two, holding them briefly before laying them down beside their sibling.
“You’re getting a vasectomy,” she mumbles through a yawn.
“What?”
“I have my three. I’m not doing this again.”
I chuckle and climb into the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her. “Okay,Cuore mio. I’ll get one scheduled.”
