“Do I have to?” I’m whining, and I’m not proud of it.
“You don’t have to, no. I’m not going to drag you down there kicking and screaming. But the alternative is waiting until after the babies are born, and you’ll be even less mentally prepared then.”
The breath leaves my lungs with a steady whoosh. She’s right. She’s always right.
I puff up my cheeks. “Okay. But I expect full back-up from you.”
“Hey, when have I ever let you down?”
Cash or Bash will get the door, I tell myself as we head downstairs. But with the door in sight, I can see the neighbor’s shadow through the glass and there’s no sign of either of my men.
Dammit!
Ariel is going to make me go through with this, and I’m not sure I have the bandwidth for making small talk. I want to be back in the nursery upstairs, surrounded by jungle and the clean, slightly vinegary smell of fresh paint.
Deep breath. I open the door to find the woman who lives two houses down from us standing on the porch holding a container filled with cookies. She smiles. Her eyes instinctively drift down to my belly as it starts to harden again, the contraction sending panic to my eyes and snatching my breath from my lungs.
“Hi,” I manage, clinging to the edge of the door.
“Hello, I’m Margaret. I live at number fifty-three—” she half-turns and points along the street “—I thought I’d come and introduce myself before the baby arrives.”
Margaret has gray-blonde hair, a mole tucked right in the corner by her left nostril, and sparkly blue eyes that narrow when she looks at me.
“Are you alright, dear? You must be due soon.”
“I’m fine. Practice contraction.”
It isn’t going away. I need it to go away so that I can do the right thing and invite Margaret inside rather than leaving her on thethreshold. I rub my rock-solid belly. Breathe. Realize that I can relax a little when the discomfort starts to ebb.
“I’m a trained midwife,” Margaret says. “Retired now. Any questions, please don’t hesitate to come and find me. I’ll be happy to help.” She holds out the tub of cookies.
Ariel takes the gift with a smile. “Thank you. I’m Ariel, and this is Remy. We were at college together.”
“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry.” I can feel my face growing flushed. “I’m not normally this ditzy.”
“She is,” Ariel butts in.
Margaret smiles. “No need to apologize. I was the same towards the end of my pregnancies. Could barely remember to put the milk back in the fridge. I once put my shoe in the oven. Baked it to perfection before I realized what I’d done.”
Warm, strong, arms slide around me from behind then and Cash’s face appears beside mine. A shiver travels down my spine, and I focus on keeping the neighborly smile on my face as my nipples turn to bullets.
“Hello. Margaret, isn’t it?” he says.
I can tell by the way her eyes soften and her lips turn up at the corners that he has treated her to a glimpse of his dazzling smile.
“Cassius Murray. Cash for short.” He shakes her hand. “Please, come in.” He plants a kiss on my lips. “I’ll go switch on the coffee machine.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” She watches him walk back into the house. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” she says to his retreating back.
Ariel nudges my side with her elbow and makes lightning shapes with her eyebrows.
I ignore her and stand aside for Margaret to enter.
She stands in the foyer, hands clasped in front of her. “When did you say the baby was due?”
I didn’t, but I don’t point this out. I’ve already left her standing on the porch for far too long. “Next month. We’re having twins.”
Her eyes widen. “I knew it when you had the Braxton Hicks back there. A double miracle.”
