Heartbeats

Chapter 14

Him...

A month before the twins arrive, she brings up my ex-wife. We're three hours deep in a movie marathon, cozied up in our California King. It starts out with just the two of us, but it isn't long before my daughter moseys in and nestles herself between us only to fall asleep within minutes.

"Have you talked to her lately?" She asks out of the blue, running her fingers tenderly through the little girl's messy hair. At first, I'm not even sure what she's talking about. "Her mom—have you talked to her mom about how all of this is going to go down?"

Aside from a few stale meetings with our attorneys, I haven't spoken more than a handful of words to my ex-wife in months. It was a clean break, and I'd like to keep it that way.

As far as the proceedings go, we haven't gotten to the part where we talk about custody, and my heart lurches in my chest just thinking about it. My daughter has been with me for the duration of our separation and I intend to make sure it stays that way. But there are two variables in that equation I have not factored in yet. Both biological mom and soon-to-be stepmom also have a say.

"We haven't discussed it formally yet," I reply when I realize I've been silent for a little bit too long. "But I'm fairly sure I know where she stands."

"So you think she's just going to surrender custody?" The hint of devil's advocate in her voice makes me question her motives.

"I do," I respond without hesitation, and I'm certain. When we were together, she never wanted to be tethered to a family, but she wanted me, so she signed on the dotted line and threw in all her cards with the rest of the lot. She was never so bold as the woman at my side right now, the one who loves me enough to level with me.

She nods my way, a soft smile playing at her lips before she diverts her gaze back to the sleeping girl between us. I know all of this must be difficult for her, swooping in to clean up the broken pieces of another person's shattered family. We don't ever talk about it, but I can't help but wonder where her heart lies, how she truly feels about the responsibility of raising another woman's child.

It's a bold question, but I ask it anyway because the false security of the unknown is suddenly too much to carry.

"And where do you stand?"

She meets my gaze again with a glow enhanced by the late stages of her pregnancy, slipping her hand silently in mine and settling the matter once and for all.

"As far as I'm concerned, she's ours."

Her...

When it's time for the babies to arrive, I start to cry—more from panic than from pain. He finds me on the floor in the bathroom, halfway to a full blown panic attack—chest heaving, eyes clenched shut, shaking uncontrollably. For all of the love and support, I've been privy to in my short life, I suddenly feel utterly and completely alone.

I've had months to process the magnitude of this life changing milestone, and yet, the eminence feels so jarring. My only thought as I gasp for air against the cool tile floor is that I can't do it. I give up.

He's at my side before I can even call out to him, scooping my into his arms and pulling me into his chest. His presence is hazy in my mind's eye, but I cling to him all the same, knuckles white at his shirt collar as another wave of pain wracks my body.

"We've got to get you to the hospital, babe." He smooths my damp hair away from my face . "Do you think you can stand?"

"No, no, no..." The string of unsteady words dissolves into another fit of tears, confirming my suspicion that I am seconds from falling completely apart. When my frantic gaze finally finds his, I'm brave enough to admit it out laud. "I can't do this," I whisper, like the words will shatter in the air.

The pain that echoes in his eyes is enough to frighten me back to some semblance of reality. "Don't say that, you hear me?" His response is frank, his jawline set with enough resolve for both of us. "You are the strongest woman I know. You can and you will."

I nod cathartically in his general direction and before my fragile determination can falter, he's pulling me to my feet, wrapping his arm around my waist and guiding me to the car.

As he weaves in and out of traffic, my only thought behind bright white streaks of pain is that I hope he is right.

~*~

The first time I lay eyes on them, I start to cry again—more from awe than from apprehension. Rhys and Rhodes, my precious baby boys, our sons.

The physical exhaustion I feel after hours of exertion pales in comparison to the burst of adrenaline I get when the nurse places them on my chest, and when we make contact, I realize that I was wrong. As long as I live, I will never give up on these slimy, wiggly, five pound miracles. I will move heaven and earth for them.

Once I've had my fill of staring at them and I'm sufficiently confident that they won't disappear if I avert my gaze, I let my head fall to the side where I know I will find him. Throughout this entire process, he never left my side and I recognize the same ferocious love in his gaze as he takes it all in, as if I ever had any doubts.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" I laugh as pure joy erupts from my soul.

"Miraculous," he grins, leaning over place a light kiss on my forehead. Then, because the seriousness of the moment has gone on long enough, he adds, "We make beautiful babies."

I couldn't agree more.