"I'm going to be a terrible father," I said, the admission escaping before I could stop it.
She blinked, surprised. "What?"
"I don't know how to do this," I said quietly. "Be a parent. My father was—" I couldn't finish. "I don't want to become him."
"You're already different." Her hand found my face, made me look at her. "Already choosing them over everything else. That's what good fathers do."
"I don't know if that's enough."
"It's more than enough." She pulled me down and kissed me softly. "We'll figure it out together. Make mistakes together. Love them fiercely together. That's all we can do."
Together. Like everything else we'd survived.
The next two weeks blurred into strange domesticity.
FBI moved us to a secure safe house outside Phoenix—a modest ranch, armed guards, surveillance everywhere. Not home, but safe.
Sofia remained in protective custody at an undisclosed location—FBI protocol, they said, until her testimony wassecured. Phone calls only, monitored and brief. Valentina understood the necessity, but I saw how it wore on her. Eighteen years apart, finally reunited, and now separated again by the same system meant to protect them.
Valentina's morning sickness started in week two. Brutal, relentless, leaving her pale and exhausted. I learned to make ginger tea, keep crackers on the nightstand, and hold her hair when she couldn't make it to the bathroom in time.
"Glamorous," she muttered one morning, slumped on the bathroom floor.
"Very," I agreed, pressing a cool cloth to her forehead.
But there were beautiful moments too.
The first prenatal appointment was with Dr. Morrison, the high-risk OB. Seeing the twins on ultrasound again—bigger now, more defined. Two distinct shapes instead of bean-sized spots.
"Strong heartbeats," Dr. Morrison said. "Development right on track. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."
Valentina squeezed my hand, tears in her eyes. "They're really okay?"
"They're perfect."
I bought pregnancy books. Read them cover to cover while Valentina slept.What to Expect When You're Expecting.The Expectant Father.Guides to twin pregnancies, high-risk situations, and newborn care.
The information was overwhelming. But I read them anyway.
Found Valentina watching me one afternoon, with a small smile on her face.
"Studying?" she asked.
"Trying to figure out what we're supposed to do with them once they're here."
"The books know?"
"The books have opinions. Lots of conflicting opinions." I set downTwins 101with mild frustration. "One says strictschedules. Another says follow the baby's lead. A third says ignore the first two and just survive."
She laughed, settled beside me on the couch. "I vote for option three."
"Me too."
Her hand found mine automatically, fingers interlacing. We sat in comfortable silence, both processing the impossible reality.
"I'm scared," she admitted quietly.
"Me too."
