Dare To Love

Chapter 49

The twins were up before dawn, as usual, and the house was already humming with life when Beth shuffled into the kitchen barefoot, hair tied in a messy bun that was losing the battle to hold it all together. Decker was leaning against the counter shirtless, a baby perched on his hip, and Seth was crouched at the high chair, spoon in hand, doing his best to coax mashed bananas into the other twin's mouth.

Beth blinked, watching the sight, and even though she was tired—bone-deep, the kind of exhaustion that never really left anymore—her heart still clenched with affection.

"You two," she said, voice thick with sleep but edged with fondness, "are unfairly attractive fathers. It's disgusting."

Decker smirked at her, bouncing the baby on his hip. "Disgusting, huh? You weren't saying that last night when—"

"Decker." Seth cut him off without looking up, his tone smooth but warning. "It's too early for your mouth."

Beth laughed, rubbing her eyes. "I don't know. Sometimes his mouth is the only entertainment I get through these mornings." She leaned against the doorway, watching Seth carefully wipe the baby's chin when banana dribbled down. "Look at you. You're amazing, Seth. You're starting an entire new line the same year you became a first-time father. Who does that?"

Seth turned his head, and even tired, he was striking—his dark hair falling across his forehead, his green eyes softened with pride when he looked at her. "Don't make it sound like I did it alone," he said. "I couldn't have without you. Without both of you." His gaze flicked toward Decker, and Decker lifted his chin in mock arrogance.

"Damn right," Decker said. "I provided the comic relief. Essential to the creative process."

"You provided more than that," Beth said, her tone drier but still affectionate. She crossed the kitchen, reaching to brush her fingers over Decker's arm before leaning down to kiss the top of the baby's head. Then she bent to do the same with the other twin, her heart tugging at how messy and perfect it all felt.

The morning unfolded with its familiar rhythm of organized chaos—burp cloths seemingly evaporated into thin air, Decker proudly claiming one of the twins as his "mini-me" while Seth responded with an affectionate eye-roll, and Beth moving efficiently between them all, trying to dress squirming babies in outfits that would survive the day. For herself, she kept it simple—just mascara and a comfortable dress that allowed her to move freely between diaper changes and feedings.

"Deck, if he spits up on you, I'm not cleaning it," Beth warned with a hint of amusement playing at the corners of her mouth.

"He won't. He loves this," Decker replied with unwavering confidence, lifting the baby high before bringing him down for a loud raspberry against his cheek. The baby erupted in delighted laughter, tiny fists drumming against Decker's jaw in excitement. "See? My boy's got an iron stomach."

Beth shook her head, but warmth bloomed in her chest as she watched them. Despite the bone-deep exhaustion that had become her constant companion—these two men still made her heart swell with overwhelming love. Decker stood there with his hair disheveled, his T-shirt bearing the unmistakable evidence of baby oatmeal, while Seth moved about the kitchen looking impeccably put together—crisp shirt perfectly buttoned, tailored pants without a wrinkle, even at this early hour.

There hadn't been a moment to focus on herself in over a year, not in any meaningful way. But watching Seth methodically buttoning his shirt while Decker wrestled a giggling baby into tiny shoes, Beth realized perhaps she didn't need that space for herself right now. This—their messy, beautiful life together—was enough. She had them. She had this.