The Bad Boy's Decision

Epilogue

Five years later...

"Mommy, Daddy! Wake up, wake up!"

The distant sounds of my son's alarmed tone, mixed together with the howling cries of the other two, has me jolting awake in a matter of moments, my Motherly instincts certainly kicking in. Relief washes over Toby's four year old face, mirroring his Father's exact expression when experiencing the same emotion and his innocent eyes, although wide, soften slightly. Being a precise replica of Aidan, it goes without saying my boy is incredibly handsome and at only four years and three months, he's already grown into the young boy I wanted him to be.

Kind and compassionate, not to mention incredibly protective of his two, six week old sisters.

"The twins are crying, Mommy and I can't pick them up. I can't get them to stop." he cries, getting more and more anxious by the second.

I quickly remove the covers from my body and bring his trembling body into a tight hug, noticing the clock displaying a rather unforgiving 3.37am as I do so.  He's always expressed such worry whenever the girls make even the slightest of sounds and I think it comes from his Dad having drilled it in him from day one that it is his duty to look after them no matter what.

"It's okay, little man. They're just hungry, that's all. It's normal for babies to cry, you used to do it all the time when you were their age." I soothe, keen to rid some of his concern.

I run a gentle hand through his mouse brown locks and silently reminisce on a time when he was that tiny. Looking back, it was a good job Aidan did rerun from England to make me his wife once and for all. As it turns out, unknowing to us at the time, I was pregnant and it wasn't until I came back from our honeymoon that I found out. Nonstop vomiting for three days straight had seen Aidan on the edge of total panic, and thinking I'd contracted some tropical virus whilst vacating abroad, we planned a trip to the doctors office. Of course, Aidan insisted on tagging along to ensure I was alright and had spent most of the appointment holding my hand while I reeled off symptom after symptom to Dr. Rogers. I still remember the look on his face when the doctor suggested I take a pregnancy test. Shock, excitement, fear; it had all been there but thankfully the remaining eight months flew by swimmingly and I gave birth to our beautiful Son, Toby Kyle Richards, on May 4th, weighing in at a healthy 8lbs.

"Did I really cry like that?" asks Toby, pulling me from my thoughts as my sleeping husband stirs from next to me.

Well, it's about bloody time.

"Yeah, sweetie. They can't talk yet so it's their way of getting our attention. It's nothing to worry about, I promise."

His dark brown, slightly green eyes sparkle with understanding and while relaxing at the hands of my explanation, he rests his head on my shoulder, watching as his Dad finally succumbs to consciousness, the confusion in his tired eyes almost laughable.

"Hey buddy, what you doing in here?" whispers Aidan, voice thick with sleep.

"The twins are crying. Mommy said they're hungry." replies Toby, still clinging to my pyjama top for dear life.

Aidan's eyes briefly flash to mine, caressing my every feature as he slowly evaluates my expression. He pretends to hate this part, the waking up at ungodly hours, but I know he secretly loves it. Years ago, when Toby first grew out of this stage, I would find Aidan standing over his crib in the middle of the night, not knowing what to do with himself. "I miss him." he would admit, sounding totally absurd by saying so but completely justifiable at the same time.