“I’m glad you don’t suffer from the same affliction.” I’m not sure how I would have reacted if Titus hadn’t been all in, all the time. Even when he was holding back, he was never wishy-washy or hot and cold. Just a calm, steady presence that kept me grounded. Made me feel safe.
“If anything, I suffer from the opposite problem.” His free hand catches mine, toying with the diamond on my finger. “I don’t think I can settle down fast enough.”
“Oh?” Obviously, I realize Titus wants to get married—he spent an exorbitant amount of money to prove it—but we haven’t really discussed how or when it’s going to happen.
Normally, I would have had all sorts of plans and expectations swirling around my brain. But I don’t. Because there isn’t a doubt in my mind Titus means what he says. I don’t have to dream or wish or hope. Not with him.
“I was thinking, it would probably be better if we do it sooner, rather than later.” His fingers lace through mine as his green eyes fix on my face. “If you want to wait until after the babies are here, I understand, but if it’s up to me, it can’t happen soon enough.”
I’m sure there are pros to waiting until I’m not pregnant. Nodoubt Deidre could plan the most insanely beautiful wedding that has ever happened in the history of weddings. But I honestly don’t care about a wedding. I just want to be his.
Want him to be mine.
So I take a deep breath, no fear, no worry when I ask him, “What are your plans for tomorrow?”
Epilogue
Titus
Istare down at the tiny bundle cradled in my arms, looking over the perfect slope of her nose and the delicate pout of her lips.
She’s perfect. Everything I imagined and more.
Just like her brother.
“I can’t believe how cute they are.” Mariah leans to peek at our daughter before returning her gaze to the little boy she’s holding. “It’s so crazy to think just a few hours ago they were still in my belly.”
“It’s crazy to think how just a few hours ago we were curled up in bed thinking we had another week to finish the nursery.” I turn to look over the goddess next to me. “Are you still doing okay?”
I’ve asked her every fifteen minutes since she accidentally delivered both babies in triage. And I’ll probably continue to ask every fifteen minutes for the next three months.
Just to be sure.
“A little sore, but not as bad as I was expecting.” Her eyes drop to her chest. “My boobs are starting to feel strange though.”
“It’s inflammation from milk production.” I adjust theneckline of her robe, trying to loosen any pressure it’s putting on her chest. “From what I read, it should pass over the next few days.”
My research regarding Mariah’s pregnancy didn’t stop at finding her the best obstetrician and the twins the best pediatrician. I’ve had so many fears around this process, and the only thing that seemed to alleviate them was knowledge. Learning as much as I could about everything I could find, so I’d be prepared for every scenario. Understand any changes in her body or the babies. It gave me a sense of control in a situation that made me feel helpless and terrified.
Then she nearly delivered them in the car and humbled me real fast.
“Good to know.” Mariah shifts, wincing a little. “Any idea how long I have to wear these very sexy diapers?”
“That’s up to your body. Could be a few days. Could be a week.” I check the clock, mentally calculating how long it’s been since the pad absorbing the remaining contents of her uterus was changed. “It’s probably time to switch it out.”
I settle our daughter into her bassinet before taking our son from Mariah and situating him in his. After rolling both of them close to the bathroom, I help Mariah up, getting her maneuvered in front of the toilet before crouching down to lower the mesh panties the hospital provided.
I know this is part of the process most men probably shy away from, but I’m so fucking grateful to experience it. I know how lucky I am to have the opportunity to take care of her. To show my wife how fucking amazing I think she is.
How much I love her and our babies.
That I’ll always take care of them. In every way.
After helping Mariah lower to the seat, I toss the used liner in the trash and go to work filling the squirt bottle beside the sink with warm water. Once the squeeze top is in place, I test it on my wrist to make sure it’s not too hot, then resume crouching in front of her. “Ready?”
She holds her sleep shirt out of the way as I release a gentlestream against her swollen skin, washing and soothing her irritated vulva. Mariah lets out a sigh, her shoulders relaxing as I carefully work my way across the area.
“Whoever came up with this is a genius.” One hand comes to rest on my shoulder as her eyes slide closed. “Who would have thought a little warm water would make such a big difference?”
