“Well, I think you turned out okay,” she replies.
Finally, one of the tables at the far side of the diner frees up, and the bored-looking teenager gestures for us to take a seat. To anyone else, it might look like the most mundane thing in the world, someone sitting here with their mom for lunch on a Sunday afternoon. But for me, as I slip into the faux-leather seats, it’s anything but. It’s another reminder that I have a place here, no matter how long I’ve tried to convince myself otherwise.
And maybe, just maybe, there’s no reason for me to leave again.
23
ANGELIE
“Hey!”
Dylan greets me with his trademark grin as I open the door, pressing a bottle of wine into my hands as he brushes past me and into the house. “Damn, that smells good…”
“I think you’re meant to let her invite you in first, Dylan,” Callum calls after his brother, pulling me into a hug and dropping a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for having us, Angelie. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“Me too,” Joe interjects, as they all head into the living room, where the quads are currently hanging out together. I set them up with some paper and pencils so they could draw while I made dinner for the guys, but I know I’m going to have to get them to bed soon enough so I can talk to my visitors about the matter at hand.
I stand for a moment in the doorway to the living room, just watching all of them together. Callum is down on his haunches, peering with great interest at a picture Chuck is drawing, while Dylan has already taken up pencils himself to add something toChrissie’s picture. Carlisle and Joe are on the edge of the couch, paper in both of their laps, admiring the work that the kids have already done. My heart twists for a second in my chest, seeing them like this, all four of my men with all four of my children.
Well. All five of my children, to be exact…
“You think you could give me a hand getting everything served up, Callum?” I ask him, and he glances up, grinning.
“Sure thing. Joe, come on, you know this place better than I do.”
“Not sure there’s room for all three of us in there,” Joe remarks, flashing me a grin. “Though I guess we’ll find a way to make it work.”
I giggle, biting my lip as I follow them through to serve up the curry that I’ve spent the day cooking. I wanted to make sure they had something substantial, given that they’ve been working on both construction sites over the past few months. Not that it seems to have done them any harm, given that they look even stronger than ever, their bodies bronzed from spending so much time outside in the sun. My teeth rest on my bottom lip for a moment as I watch Joe pull some plates out of the high cupboard, unable tonotnotice the way that his body moves when he’s right there in front of me.
But that’s not the point of tonight.
No, the point of tonight is to come clean about what I know to be true now—about what the doctor confirmed to me a few days ago. That I am really, truly pregnant.
The part the doctor couldn’t tell me for sure, though, was how they’re going to take it. With the construction drawing to a close, I know I have to jump on the chance to make sure that I sharehow I feel with them. But it’s not as though it’s exactly easy, laying it all out like that, given that I hardly have any experience actually looking to the men I’ve been with for support.
“Okay, just give me a few minutes—I’m going to get the kids to bed,” I tell Joe and Callum, as they start dishing up the food onto plates, cracking into the wine that Dylan brought. I wonder if I should tell them not to pour me a glass, but I get the feeling that they would catch on to me in an instant, and that’s the last thing I need.
“Okay, calling all babies,” I announce as I step through the living room door.
Dylan raises his eyebrows at me, grinning. “Sure you can’t spare another half hour? Chrissie and I were just getting started on this picture…”
“Maybe you can finish it up some other time,” I reply as the toddlers swarm around my legs. “But I really need it to be just us tonight, okay?”
“Fine,” Dylan replies, pulling a face like he can hardly stand it. “You need any help, getting these four up the stairs?”
“Might be useful to have some backup,” I reply. “Carlisle, you think you can hold down the fort here?”
“I’ll do what I can,” he says, stooping down to clear away some of the art supplies.
Dylan picks up Chrissie and Chuck, who rest against him like they’re used to his presence by now. As I follow him up the stairs, my mind flashes back to what he said when he first showed me the blueprints for the new house, when he told me that he could be a one-woman kind of guy.
I think, despite myself, I’m actually starting to believe him.
Once Dylan and I have the kids in bed—though it takes a little longer than it normally might, given that he insists on tucking each of them in one at a time—we head downstairs, to find that Joe and Callum have served up our food, mismatched glasses half-filled with wine dotted around the coffee table.
“Thanks for…for helping out,” I say, as Dyan flops down on the couch, reaching for his food. It’s strange, having them all here in my house like this for the first time—this space that has been all mine for so long, a place that I’ve made for my children, suddenly filled with all this energy and company.
“You made the food,” Carlisle remarks. “Least we could do, right?”
