“Girl,” someone announces. “Healthy and strong.”
I don’t have time to process before the next contraction hits and I’m pushing again. The second pup slips into the world with another plaintive wail. Another russet bundle of fur. Another set of black-tipped ears.
“Boy,” Dr. MacDougal says. “He’s perfect.”
And then, before I can catch my breath, the third. This one takes longer, or maybe time has stopped making sense entirely. I push until I see stars, until I’m certain I can’t possibly push anymore, and then I push again.
“One more,” Ian urges, his voice cracking. “One more, Julia. You can do this.”
The third pup crowns, and the room erupts in activity. I collapse back against the pillows, my whole body trembling with exhaustion, as the medical staff tends to my babies.
“A big, bouncing boy,” Dr. MacDougal announces. “Three healthy pups. Congratulations.”
Ian makes a sound that might be a laugh or a sob, his tail wagging so hard that he nearly knocks over a tray of medical instruments. Then they place the cleaned-up pups on my chest, all three of them, and I’m crying too hard to see straight.
Two boys and a girl. They’re beautiful. They’re so beautiful. Tiny and damp-furred, with little black-tipped ears that twitch at every sound and matching black-tipped tails that wriggle every time I stroke their backs. When they blink their eyes open for the first time, squinting against the bright hospital lights, I fall even more in love.
“They have your eyes,” Ian breathes, reaching out to touch one impossibly small hand. “Julia. They have your eyes.”
“And your everything else.” I laugh through my tears, through love so overwhelming it feels like drowning. “They’re perfect.”
Ian leans down and presses his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my face. “You’re perfect. You did this. You gave me everything I ever wanted.”
“We did it together.”
The pups squirm between us, making little snuffling sounds as they root for milk. With the wulver lactation specialist’s help, I guide the two smaller pups to my breasts, marveling at how they already know what to do, how their tiny mouths latch on with surprising strength.
I watch Ian feed the bigger boy with a bottle, beaming down at the pup in his arms, his tail wagging, his whole body radiating happiness, and it’s hard to believe that I haven’t loved him my whole life.
I think about the woman I was when we met in the bookstore aisle, the one who thought she could carry babies for a stranger and walk away. The one who convinced herself that this would be like a business arrangement, clean and simple.
What a fool I was. How could I ever have believed I’d be able to let them go, these tiny, perfectcreatures who grew inside me, who share my eyes and their daddy’s red fur? This man who saw me when I’d forgotten how to see myself?
Of course, it was always going to end this way. Not with a handshake and separate lives, but with a family and a love I didn’t know I was allowed to have. We were meant to be together, Ian and I, even if fate took its sweet time getting us here.
Epilogue
Ian
One year later
The new barn smells like fresh cedar planks, which makes sense given that I built it with my own two hands over the summer. Julia wanted something open and airy, a space where pups could tumble around on rainy days when it’s too muddy in the woods. What she got was a two-story, timber-framed structure with massive slidingdoors that open onto the creek, a loft for napping, and a huge stone fireplace to warm up brisk mornings and chilly evenings.
Today, the main open space is filled with long wooden tables covered in white linens and loaded with food supplied by both sides of our family. Galbi and salmon. Kimbap and bannocks. My huckleberry pie sits next to a massive pot oftteokgukthat Samantha and Molly made. A towering wedding cake is surrounded by a rainbow of rice cakes for thedoljanchi, the Korean first-birthday celebration.
“Hold still, would you?” Ben growls as he knots my tie, like we’re still pups getting ready for school.
“It’s too tight.” I tug at it, ruining his work for the second time.
“It’s a necktie. That’s how it’s supposed to feel.” He ties it again and then steps back and surveys me with a critical eye. My oldest brother has never been one for sentimentality, but I catch the slight softening around his muzzle. He claps me on the back. “You clean up nice, little brother. She’s a lucky woman.”
“I’m the lucky one.”
He snorts but doesn’t argue, because he knows I’m right.
Through the open barn doors, I can see our guests mingling on the mossy lawn. The whole Lyall clan turned out, all five of my older brothers with theirmates and pups, plus Conall and Meg with their four and plenty of our extended family, too. Eomma, Ma, and Pa are holding court near the dessert table, Pa telling some story that has Nicole doubled over with laughter while Heidi rolls her eyes. Samantha and Molly are doing their best to herd the pups.
The pups. Gods, the pups are everywhere.
