He glances down at them again, thoughtful. “You don’t have to rush. But sometimes saying it out loud helps.”
Olivia perks up. “Okay, I like this. Doctor-assisted naming.”
He huffs softly. “I’m not sure I’m qualified.”
“You literally just delivered them,” I point out the obvious. “You’re overqualified.”
He studies the first twin, the slightly squirmier one. “He looks like a Nicholas.”
The name lands in my chest with startling clarity. I blink quickly and nod. “Nicholas. That feels right.”
“And the other?” Olivia prompts.
Damian shifts his attention to the second baby, who’s sleeping more peacefully. “Graham? Or maybe that’s too formal.”
“Actually, I think I like that for the other one. Nicholas Graham Lawson,” I say slowly, testing it.
“And him?” Olivia asks, pointing at the unnamed twin.
Damian tilts his head. “He’s quieter. Observing. Walker, maybe.”
My throat tightens. It clicks into place like it’s been waiting. “Walker Finn Lawson.”
The room goes still for a second. Damian looks at me, and there’s something softer in his expression now. Something almost…proud. “They’re good names.”
“They are. Thanks for that.”
He straightens. “You should get some rest. I’ll send a nurse in with blankets for your friend.”
Olivia beams at him. “You’re my favorite doctor.”
He smiles politely, then teases, “Don’t tell the others.” He gives me one last assessing look—gentle, clinical, distant. Then he leaves. The door shuts.
And the air rushes back in. I can breathe again.
Olivia waits exactly three seconds. “He has the right to know.”
I stare at the ceiling. “I know.”
“You just let him help name his own kids. Without him knowing it.”
“I did not?—”
“You did.”
“I cannot handle that conversation right now,” I say slowly. “I am stitched. I am exhausted. I am leaking from places I don’t want to discuss. Let me have some time.”
Olivia snorts despite herself. “That’s fair.”
“AndifI tell him,” I continue, turning my head to look at her, “then this becomes real in a way I’m not ready for.”
“It is real.”
“I know it’s real. I’m looking at them.”
Nicholas shifts in his sleep, tiny fist curling near his face. Walker makes a soft sighing noise that goes straight to my spine.
Holy. Shit. I’m a mom.
