“This one won’t fight with siblings, just others. They’ll be the one who sticks up for their sisters.”
“Mhm,” she comments, sitting up against the headboard, both hands on her belly. Her breasts are spilling out of her sports bra, and they’re so goddamn tempting. So, I lean down to kiss each of them, before kissing her lips.
“Speaking of, where are those little angels?” I ask, glancing at the clock. It’s nearly eight, and they’re always up by now.
“Angels, huh?” Seraphine calls after me as I make my way out of our bedroom and down the hall to the girls’ room.
Amelia just turned four, while her younger sister, Avalynn, is almost three. They fight like the worst enemies but love each other like the closest of friends. Typical sibling relationship, I say. Never had one to know, and neither did Seraphine. But it’s why we both want a big family.
I pass piles of boxes, all labeled with which room they belong in. With the newest baby due any day now, we should have already moved but we’ve been procrastinating. It’s not that we have to move just yet, but the girls need a bigger space. My house is big, but it’s not a family house. We need a family house. The girls all need their own rooms and space, and it is better todo this while they’re small so we can make memories in a new house.
It’s been built for over a month now, we just need to get our stuff over there. If we don’t get it done before our newest baby arrives, I’ll make sure it’s done while Seraphine is in the hospital. Of course, I could hire people to bring everything over and set it up, but we like doing things ourselves—together and with the girls.
“Girls?” I call out when I reach their room and find both beds empty, sheets a mess.
I turn around, looking down the hall when I hear a squeal coming from downstairs.
Not surprised they’re down there. Probably jumping on the couches or getting into the massage lotions again. It wouldn’t be the first time.
I do not find them in either of those places though.
“What are you girls doing?” I ask.
Ava turns to me, grinning a mile wide. Her green eyes shine, hair in a loose messy bun on the top of her head. Her hair is dark, just like her mother’s. Both of them look just like their mother and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“We make mommy and baby bekfast, dada,” Ava says. She’s standing on the counter. I hurry to get her down before her mother sees her and has a heart attack.
“That’s very sweet, honey.” I kiss the top of her head before letting her go, then do the same to Amelia. Once they’re both safe, I take a moment to see what they’ve made.
The carton of eggs sits on the counter with seven eggs inside, all with a small hole in it like a finger puncture. The missing eggs—because we bought this dozen yesterday and hadn’t used any—are cracked into a large mixing bowl—along with the shells. In it is what looks like Fruit Loops and cinnamon. Another bowl is just cereal and milk, filled to the very top. There is also a banana that looks like it’s been mashed by fingers—maybe chewed up, I can’t be sure.
“This looks wonderful, girls, but I thought we were going out for breakfast this morning?”
“We are!?” Amelia squeals, jumping up and down. “You didn’t say that, Daddy. You didn’t.”
“No? I thought I did.” I try to hide my smile, knowing damn well I did not tell them that because then I wouldn’t have heard the end of it.
There is a diner not too far from here that they love. They get pancakes in the shape of hearts and think it’s the coolest thing. Recently, the cook started putting some food coloring in it for them, so now they get different colors.
“Come on, Ava, we have to get dressed super duper fast!” Amelia takes her sister’s hand and runs toward the stairs.
“Super duper fast,” I say, turning back to the mess and laughing.
So sweet, so thoughtful. Just like their mother. I only hope it stays like this forever.
We return from breakfast with a stack of purple pancakes for the baby. Ava had an absolute fit over taking them, and even when we tried to explain they would go bad, she wouldn’t hear it. Amelia, the smarty-pants she is, was the one who told us to put it in the freezer. That girl is too smart for her own good.
I wrap the pancakes in foil, put them in a freezer bag, and shove them in the freezer. They’ll be forgotten soon enough.
My cell rings and I answer it without looking.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dad,” Harrison says. “You going to be around this afternoon?”
“Yeah, we’re here. What’s up?”
“Juniper has been asking about going there to see the baby in Sera’s bellyone last time.”
