“You don't have to thank us. That's what family does.”
“Still.” Michael reached over and took her hand. “I'm grateful. For all of it. For you, for this family, for the fact that I get to be here, meeting my niece and nephew on the day they're born.”
Beth squeezed his hand, feeling the strength in his grip, the steadiness that had always defined her oldest brother. He had been through so much. They all had. But they were still here, still together, still showing up for each other when it mattered.
The door opened again, and a nurse appeared, pushing a small cart with two bassinets. Beth's heart leaped at the sight of them, the tiny, bundled forms that represented everything she had hoped for.
“These two beauties wanted to see their mama,” the nurse announced, her voice cheerful. “They both passed their examinations with flying colors. Perfect Apgar scores, healthy weights. Charlotte is five pounds, twelve ounces, and Alexander is six pounds, one ounce. Very good sizes for twins.”
Gabriel was on his feet instantly, moving to help wheel the bassinets closer to the bed. The nurse positioned them so Bethcould see both babies, their small faces visible above the swaddled blankets.
“They're going to want to nurse again soon,” the nurse added. “I'll send the lactation consultant back in about an hour to help you with tandem feeding.”
“Tandem feeding?” Beth repeated.
“Nursing both babies at the same time. It takes some practice, but it can be a real time-saver with twins.”
The thought of nursing two babies simultaneously seemed impossible, but Beth nodded anyway. She would figure it out. She had to figure it out.
“Oh,” Brea breathed, rising from her chair to look at the babies. “Oh, Beth. They're beautiful.”
Charlotte was awake, her dark eyes blinking slowly, her tiny mouth working as if she were trying to figure out this strange new world. Alexander slept peacefully beside her, his face relaxed, one small fist pressed against his cheek.
“This is Charlotte Victoria,” Beth said, reaching down to touch her daughter's cheek. The skin was impossibly soft, like silk against her fingertips. “And this is Alexander Thomas.”
“Victoria,” Michael repeated. “That's beautiful. After Gabriel's mother?”
“Yes.” Beth glanced at Gabriel, who nodded. “And it's also Grandma Sarah's mother's name. We didn't plan it that way, but when we found out, it seemed perfect.”
“Grandma's going to lose her mind,” Michael said with a grin. “In the best way.”
“That's what we're hoping. She's driving up with Lauren and Sarah. They should be here in a day or two.”
“Driving? In the RV?”
“Yup, the Garrison Getaway. You know Grandma. She does things her own way.”
Maggie appeared at Michael's elbow, her eyes fixed on thebabies with an expression of pure wonder. “May I?” she asked Beth.
“Of course.”
Maggie reached into Charlotte's bassinet and lifted her granddaughter with the practiced ease of a woman who had held many babies in her lifetime. Charlotte fussed briefly, then settled against Maggie's chest, her small body fitting perfectly into the curve of her grandmother's arms.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Maggie murmured. “Hello, my beautiful girl. I'm your grandma. We're going to be great friends, you and I.”
Beth watched her mother hold her daughter, and something inside her shifted. This was the cycle, she realized. The endless chain of mothers and daughters, of love passed down through generations. Maggie had held her like this once, had whispered the same words, had felt the same overwhelming surge of love and responsibility.
And now it was Beth's turn.
“Can I hold Alexander?” Michael asked.
Gabriel lifted Alexander from his bassinet and transferred him carefully into Michael's arms. The big man looked almost comically large holding such a tiny baby, his broad hands cradling the infant with exquisite gentleness.
“Hey, little guy,” Michael said softly. “I'm your Uncle Michael. I'm going to teach you all the things your mom doesn't want you to know. How to throw a football. How to sneak cookies before dinner. How to annoy your sister in the most effective ways.”
“That's exactly what I was afraid of,” Beth said, but she was smiling.
Brea moved to stand beside her husband, looking down at the baby in his arms. Something passed between them, a private moment of connection that Beth recognized. The shared memory of their own children as infants, perhaps. Or thebittersweetness of watching someone else begin a journey they knew so well.
