“I’m not learning. I’m failing,” I mutter.
“You are not,” Rose says firmly. “He’s figuring it out, and so are you. Give him a second.”
Eventually, it works. There is no way to describe the sensation. “Oh.”
Rose smiles. “There you go.”
I huff out a weak laugh, watching him as he settles into it, tiny and focused like this is the most important job he’s ever had. Which, I guess, it is. “Okay,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. “Okay. We’re doing it.”
By the time I get through all three of them, I’m sweating. My body is done. Completely done. I slump back into the pile of pillows like gravity has suddenly doubled, my muscles giving out all at once. “This is insane.”
Rose laughs, completely unbothered, like I didn’t just go through the most humbling experience of my life. “You did great.”
“I did… something,” I correct weakly.
All three of them are back in their bassinets now, their little faces calmer, their movements slower, like they’re settling after the effort. One of them lets out a soft, sleepy sound, and something in my chest tightens again. Not panic this time. Not fear.
Something softer. “I made three people. On accident.”
Rose glances at me, smiling like that’s the most normal realization in the world. “You did. And that’s amazing. Just imagine what you could do on purpose.”
I snort at that, and even laughing hurts. “I’d be unstoppable.”
“You are. Never forget that.”
I stare at them a second longer, letting that sink in, before something else cuts through my brain with surprising urgency. “Do I get to eat?”
She blinks at me, then laughs. “Yes, you get to eat.”
“Thank God. I’m starving. I feel like I haven’t eaten in years.”
“That would be because you haven’t eaten since before labor,” she says, already heading for the door. “I’ll check on your breakfast.”
“Rose,” I call, my voice full of sincerity. “You’re my favorite person right now.”
She grins. “I’ll take it.” And then she’s gone.
I stare at the door for a second, then back at the babies, then back at the door like I’m making sure she actually meant it. Because if she lied to me about food, I will not recover from that betrayal.
A few minutes later, she’s back with a tray that might as well be a five-star meal for how fast I sit up.
“Oh my God.” Eggs. Toast. Something that looks like potatoes. Juice. I don’t care what it is. I just care that it exists.
“Careful,” Rose says as she sets it down. “You might want to pace yourself?—”
Not a chance. I dig in like I’ve never eaten before in my life, shoveling food into my mouth with zero regard for dignity, manners, or basic human decency. “This is amazing.”
“That’s the hunger talking.”
“I stand by it.” I don’t stop until the plate is basically empty, leaning back with a groan that is only partially dramatic. “I feel like a person again.”
Rose chuckles. “Good. That’s the goal.”
The knock doesn’t even register as a warning. It’s just there—two quick taps—and before I can process that someone is about to come in, the door opens.
Leigh steps into the room, and relief hits immediately.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, pushing myself a little more upright despite the protest from every part of my body. “Hi. Thank?—”
