I scoop Rory up without thinking.
“Hospital,” I say. “Now.”
She laughs breathlessly, even as another wave hits. “Ofcoursethis happens on Valentine’s Day.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” I mutter, already moving.
The drive to Devil’s Peak General is a blur of white roads and adrenaline. Rory grips my hand hard enough to bruise, breathing through contractions like the absolute warrior she is.
“You okay?” I ask for the hundredth time.
She glares at me. “I’m in labor withtwins, Dax. Define okay.”
I grin despite myself. “You’re doing great.”
“Don’t say ‘great,’” she snaps. Then groans. “Say ‘almost there.’”
“Almost there,” I promise.
Two hours later, I’m standing in a hospital room that smells like antiseptic and miracles, holding two impossibly small humans against my chest.
A boy. A girl.
They’re bundled tight, faces pink and scrunched, making tiny sounds that feel like they’re rewiring my entire soul.
Rory lies back against the pillows, exhausted, glowing, eyes soft with that look that still floors me.
“You okay?” she whispers.
I nod, throat thick. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got them.”
She smiles. “Meet your dad,” she murmurs to the babies. “He’s been in love with us forever.”
I bend and kiss her forehead, careful, reverent, overwhelmed.
“You,” I say quietly, voice rough. “You and them… this family. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
She reaches for my hand, squeezes it weakly but sure. “Told you that song was prophetic.”
I laugh, tears blurring my vision, and look down at our kids—our perfect, unexpected Valentine’s.
The best thing.
Forever and always.
The End
