“Hey.” Cliff releases my hand and swipes the tear from my face. He cups my cheek and stares deeply into my eyes. “Are you okay?”
I swallow past a lump in my throat, and once again say, “Better than okay.”
He studies me closely for another second then releases my cheek to take my hand again. “You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll put the nursery together. Winter is practically chomping at the bit to throw us a baby shower. All you have to do is take care of yourself.”
“I’m not worried. I’m happy.”
“So am I.” He releases a shaky breath. “But I meant what I said. I don’t want you worrying about anything. Let me do all of the worrying.”
It’s about the most perfect thing he, or anyone, could say at this moment.
The doctor and tech leave us to give us some privacy while I pull myself together. Cliff holds my hand and practically hovers as I wipe my belly clear and sit up to get my clothing back in position.
“I was thinking…” I chew the inside of my cheek.
“That’s always a good start.” He chuckles when I lightly elbow his ribs.
“I was thinking,” I begin again, this time more sternly, “that maybe we should have the babies in Alaska.”
His hold on me tightens, and I can sense his posture tensing. “You do?”
I nod. “I mean, you’ve built a pretty nice little life up in Alaska with your cabin and your work.”
“I have.” I turn in time to catch him swallowing hard. “But what about you? You have a job and a home here.”
“I have a job I can do anywhere, and a place that’s less of a home and more of where I live right now.” I lift a shoulder. “Besides, I kind of like the idea of us raising our babies somewhere they can be outside all of the time.”
“It would be good for their imaginations. Not to mention, they’d be self-sufficient.”
“See, there you go. More perks I hadn’t considered.” I beam at him. “So, what do you say?”
He shakes his head before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I say how the hell did I end up getting so lucky?”
I could ask myself the same question. And I would, but my lips are now too occupied by his.
EPILOGUE
CLIFF
The doctor’s hand shakes as he reaches for Sophie’s chart.
I keep my sight laser-focused on him while he stumbles over the questions that have become standard since we arrived at the hospital early this morning.
“You’re a brave lady.” He tilts his head at the chart. “Most moms of twins schedule a C-section. Especially at your age.”
I grit my teeth together. “You told us it was safe.”
“I—I did. It is. Just as long as Mom and the kids are all doing okay. Which they are. They are.” He gulps loudly and faces Sophie. “Wha—how far apart are your contractions?”
Sophie rubs a hand over her smocked belly. “Maybe every three or four minutes or so.”
“Three minutes and twenty-nine seconds,” I say, sparing a glance at my watch to confirm.
He nods, and spares me a glance, before turning back to the chart. “And when—wh—how long are they lasting?”
“They’re not too bad.”
I clear my throat, but the words still come out sharp. “The last one was forty-four seconds.”
