Then a second pulse joined the first.
The worldstopped.
"Ah," the sonographer whispered, a small smile playing on her lips. "We have a second heartbeat. You're having twins."
The second beat was slightly out of sync with the first, but each created a beautiful, chaotic melody in the small room.
Hastings made a low, possessive sound in his throat that was almost a growl.
Fritz pushed off the wall, crossing to the bed in two strides. "Two?"
The air vanished from my lungs as two heartbeats reverberated through my chest.
"Two?" she whispered. Her voice was thin, breathless, disbelieving. Presley looked so small on that table, her eyes wide as she stared at the flickering grey shapes on the monitor.
"Nature is beautiful," I said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. My lips lingered there, feeling the warmth of her skin, the slight dampness from her tears.
I stepped back and turned away because my own tears were falling and I couldn't see the screen anymore. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, but they kept coming.
"But I'm having two babies?"
I turned back to the monitor and looked at those two tiny flickers of light on the screen. Our pack would soon have two perfect, impossible miracles.
Our world was getting more perfect every single day.
The drive home was quiet.
We were all lost in the weight of the news, and in the magnitude of what we'd just seen. Two babies. Two lives that would depend on us completely.
Presley sat between me and Hastings in the back of the car, her hand resting on her still-flat stomach like she was trying to feel them through skin and muscle and tissue.
Fritz sat opposite in the town car. "We have a surprise for you, Presley," he said finally, breaking the silence.
She looked at him, her eyes still red-rimmed. "Another surprise? I don't think my heart can take it."
"I think you'll like it."
"Can I see Mr. Cheddar first?" she asked. "I need to let him know he's about to become a big brother and he needs to find better hiding spots.”
I laughed. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled."
"Thrilled?" Hastings muttered. "That cat is already convinced he runs the house. He’ll not hide from two toddlers."
"He does run the house," Presley said. "You let him sleep on your pillow."
"I do not."
"Henry, I have photographic evidence."
Hastings' jaw tightened, the corner of his mouth twitched. "That was one time. He lookedcold."
"It was last night."
"He manipulated me."
"He's a cat. That's what they do." Presley grinned. "Admit it. You love him."
"I tolerate him."
