“Lo,” Saint whispers, glancing over my shoulder.
Keeping a hold of his hand, I ease out of his arms and pluck the digital stick up, reading the words through blurry eyes.
“You’re pregnant,” he rasps, taking the stick from me with trembling hands. He stares at it while happy tears roll down my face. “You’re having my baby.” Tears stream shamelessly down his cheeks as he sets the test down, gently placing his hands on my stomach. “We did it. My baby is growing in there.”
I fling my arms around him, half laughing and half crying, and he lifts me up, carefully swinging me around, dotting kisses all over my face. Setting my feet down on the ground, he pins me with a wide smile, pressing a loving kiss to my mouth. “I love you, Harlow. I love you so fucking much. You’ve just made all my dreams come true.”
Saint
Seven months later
“Congratulations,” the midwifesays. “You have a son.” She hands our baby to me, and I cradle him to my chest, barely able to see him through the tears flowing down my face. My chest heaves with indecipherable emotion as I look at my flesh and blood for the first time. He has a fine layer of downy dark hair on his head, and his features are all scrunched up, his eyes closed, lashes fluttering, as he adjusts to life outside the womb.
He’s tiny. Barely weighing anything in my arms, and my protective instincts kick in, like they did with our other kids. I would kill for this child. I would annihilate anyone who sought to hurt him. I press a kiss to his temple, uncaring he’s still covered in bits of blood and fluids. The nurse gave him a cursory quick cleaning before wrapping him in a soft towel and handing him to me because she could tell I couldn’t wait a minute more before cradling my son in my arms.
The surge of emotion flooding my system is unlike anything I’ve felt before. “Welcome to the world, little man,” I whisper. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you.”
It’s not actually been that long even though it took over a year for Lo to get pregnant. That’s not long compared to how long other couples have to wait. But I’m an impatient prick, and those fourteen months felt like fourteen years.
We’ve made the most of our time since Lo got pregnant, remodeling the nursery to accommodate the twins, and fitting it out with everything they need. We even picked their names after the scan confirmed we were expecting a boy and a girl. We knew the chances of Lo giving birth early were high, so we wanted to be well prepared. Twins are usually born around thirty-five weeks, and with Lo having given birth to three kids previously, it was a pretty foregone conclusion we’d be welcoming the newest additions to our family at this time.
Holding my son, Soren, in my arms, is the best fucking feeling in the world. All I need now is my daughter Willow to be born, and for my wife to be okay, and everything will be perfect.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been in the delivery room with Harlow. Galen and I were with her when Bishop was born, and Theo and I were with Lo when Luna was born. Caz and Theo supported her at Rora’s birth. It’s ironic, or kismet, that all of us ended up being there when our biological kids were born. We asked the others if one of them wanted to be with us today, but they declined, stating they wanted to be with the other kids, to help keep them entertained in case the labor was long.
I’m not sure if that’s the truth. Maybe they were letting us have this moment together because it’s the first time Lo has given birth knowing who the biological father is. Or maybe they are pandering to the possessive side of my personality. I’m not even sure if the medical team would’ve permitted anyone else in, as there is a higher risk when delivering more than one baby. Whatever the reason, I’m glad it’s just Lo and me. Fuck it if that makes me selfish. It makes it more special, especially after everything we’ve been through to get to this point.
Lo grunts, gripping the side of the bed, and I crouch down, bringing our son close to her, figuring she needs the incentive to deliver his sibling. I have never been more in awe of my wife than I am today. She’s so strong. So beautiful. A warrior. A queen. The love of my fucking life. The mother of my children. The owner of my heart and soul.
Lo is a fucking trooper, and I don’t know how she has the strength to keep going, but she doesn’t complain much. She is just getting on with it. I will never feel worthy of this woman.
“Say hi to Mommy,” I tell Soren, and a loud wail rips from his lips. I slide my finger in his hand, silently fist pumping the air when his tiny fingers curl around mine. Fresh tears prick my eyes, and I’m barely holding it together.
Lo breathes in and out, gritting her teeth as she looks at our baby boy. “Is he okay?” she asks in between pants.
“He’s perfect,” I say just as the nurse arrives to take him away to be bathed. “He’s got a fine set of lungs anyway.” Wringing the cloth in the bowl of water by the bed, I dab at Lo’s brow, wiping beads of sweat away and brushing sticky strands of hair off her face.
“Just another few seconds and then one big push, sweetie,” the midwife says from between her legs.
I slide my arm around Lo’s back and hold her hand, inhaling and exhaling with her as she prepares to bear down.
“Now, Harlow,” the midwife commands, and Lo grits her teeth, panting and groaning as she delivers our daughter.
Piercing cries ring out as our little Willow comes kicking and screaming into the world.
Lo slumps against me, and I press a fierce kiss to her temple while the nurse cleans our little girl and the midwife attends to my wife. “I love you,” I tell her. “I love you so much. You have made me the happiest man alive today.” I don’t hide my tears as I kiss and hold her.
“I love you too,” she says, crying happy tears and smiling as the nurse hands our daughter over. “Wow. She’s going to be blonde.” She smooths a finger gently over the blonde hair stuck to our daughter’s head.
“I wonder if she’ll have curls like Luna,” I muse, sniffing as powerful emotion sneaks up on me again.
The nurse returns our son, all clean and smelling like lavender baby bath, wrapped in a long-sleeved onesie under the soft blue blanket we brought with us. We coo over him while we wait for our daughter to be bathed and returned, and then I go out to get the others.
Our family bursts into the room, and the noise levels elevate a few decibels as Rora squeals in excitement. Caz has to wrangle her into his arms to stop her from lunging at her new brother and sister. Luna snuggles with Lo, smiling as she holds her new sister in both their arms, while I cradle my son in my arms, showing him off to Bishop.
“See that,” I tell our eldest son, speaking loudly so the whole room hears. “That’s evidence of super, super, super sperm.” I knocked our woman up with two kids. Two babies, motherfuckers. None of those assholes managed that.
“Saintly!” Lo shrieks.
