“As long as you make coffee, I’ll do whatever you want,” Summer said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
She stretched, raising her arms above her head and teasing me with a sliver of exposed back. Not that she realized she was doing it, but from the day we started dating, I couldn’t keep my hands off of her, and the little miracles that arrived almost nine months to the day later proved it.
I had never given much thought to fatherhood, and even though I knew Summer wanted kids, we both assumed we were too old for it to happen. Morning sickness and several tests later proved us both wrong, and we were so surprised, we’d handed the wedding planning over to our parents without any fuss.
That was more of a surprise than the pregnancy—watching Mom and Cam carry on like an old married couple, arguing about flowers and centerpieces.
Four months later, Summer happily walked down the aisle my brothers had created in Mom’s backyard, proudly displaying her baby bump. And now, we were a happy—and exhausted—family of four.
As if the universe heard my thoughts, I felt the bed dip again as another tiny bundle of sassy energy wiggled her way beside me. She rested her head on my shoulder and giggled as I snaked an arm around her, pulling her close.
We really needed to invest in a bigger bed.
“Hot cakes, please?”
“What about hot toast?” I asked Martin’s twin sister, Rose, who furrowed her brows and shook her head. Watery tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she buried her face into my shoulder.
“No hot toast,” she whined, as my bare shoulder became damp with her tears. “My turn to choose.”
“She’s right,” Summer said, reaching over Martin to tickle Rose’s belly until the tears turned to giggles.
“I know,” I groaned, pulling Rose onto my stomach and turning to face Martin. “It’s Sissy’s turn to choose, Buddy.”
“Okay, Da. But want chocolate milk.”
“That’s a reasonable compromise,” I murmured, sitting up with Rose cradled against me. She wiggled off my lap and waddled toward the bathroom, tugging on her pajama bottoms.
A gentle smack on my shoulder had me turning to the side until my back made a satisfying crack. Martin kept tapping me until I stood up from the bed, holding my arms out to him. He vaulted off the mattress and into my arms, making me grunt and take a step back.
“Okay, wife. I’ll start breakfast and coffee.”
“Strong coffee, babe.”
“Always,” I said, setting Martin down, who tottered to the edge of the bed to pet Malibu.
I shook my head, pointing to the bathroom as Rose flushed and the sink started running. Martin ran forward and gave me a quick hug before squirming out of my reach and running into the bathroom.
“I’ll go start the coffee if you want to remind our son of the importance of aiming.”
“Yeah. Yeah. We’ll have a very manly, very important talk.” I waved my arms and scratched my scruff, blowing her a kiss.
She returned the gesture and swung her legs to the side, grabbing her water from the end table and taking a sip. “Good.Thank you. I remember how your last talk turned the floor into a war zone.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” I winced, remembering the first time Martin followed me into the bathroom and insisted he could go standing up as well.
“Whatever you say, husband.”
She walked around the bed and stopped to scratch Malibu behind her ears before wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head on my chest. We stayed like that until we heard the ceramic thump of the lid being lifted and Martin giggling. I pulled away, hightailing it after him as Summer laughed, shaking her head and walking out of the bedroom.
Potty time completed, my footsteps echoed in the hallway toward the kitchen. A high-pitched squealing and rhythmic thumping started coming from the laundry room. I groaned, stopping and dropping my head to my chest. Malibu pushed against my legs and trotted to the door, scratching with her paw.
“Do we have to?” I said, rubbing my hand on my chest. “Can’t we wait until after breakfast?”
She yowled, not impressed with my answer as she pawed harder against the door.
“Fine. Fine. Let me at least get the back door open so you can herd them into the backyard.”
Malibu followed me into the kitchen, watching as I opened the back door and ensured that the back fence gate was firmly shut. I got out the ingredients for pancakes, adding chocolate chips, strawberries, and sausage patties to the counter before an annoyed yip got my attention. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one taking my parenting responsibilities seriously.
