“Do you want me to text Millicent?” he asks.
“I’ve already done it. She’s going to leave for the hospital at the same time as us.”
I want both Lincoln and Millicent present at the birth. Mum and I don’t have the kind of relationship that would suggest she’d enjoy being there, so she and Dad are going to look after Daisy and come visit once the action is over.
We’re ready way too early, and we both sit on the couch, looking at each other with a mixture of excitement and fear.
“This is it,” I say. “There’s no going back now.”
“I would never go back.” He strokes my hand reassuringly.
“Are you ready?”
“I guess we’ll soon find out.”
***
Lincoln
Even though it was only a few years ago, I hardly remember the twins’ birth. Rachel had to have a caesarean because one of the girls was breech and it all got too complicated to attempt everything naturally. So, all I remember was being given a gown and a cap and then watching a surgeon operate on Rachel’s belly, intermittently shooting worried looks at Rachel’s face. She handled it like she does everything—with very little emotion. In hindsight, I wonder if she was terrified I’d realise immediately that the girls weren’t mine.
But I’m not going to think about that today. This little boy is definitely mine, and he’s inside the love of my life.
We head to the hospital around lunchtime when Tash’s contractions start making her double over. She tried to convince me we don’t need to hurry, but I told her I’d feel a lot better if we hung out at the hospital instead, just in case she’s further along than she realises.
Millicent is waiting for us in the parking lot when we arrive, having already commandeered a wheelchair. She practically shoves Tash into it and wheels her inside.
It’s lucky I insisted we leave home when we did, because within twenty minutes of arriving, the doctor confirms Tash is fully dilated and the baby is on its way.
“Do you need any pain relief?” I check.
“I think it’s a bit late for that now,” she huffs, shutting her eyes as another contraction hits.
“What can I do?” I feel so helpless watching the mother of my child in pain.
“Just be here.” She squeezes my hand so tightly that I fear the bones in my fingers will break. But that’s a tiny price to pay if it helps at all.
I look over at Millicent, who is standing on the other side, also having her hand crushed. She smiles at me. I can imagine she’d much prefer that pain to what Tash is currently experiencing.
After what seems like both no time and forever, the baby is out, and the doctor cuts the umbilical cord.
“Here’s your little boy,” she announces. “We’ll just clean him up and you can have him back.”
I gently let go of Tash’s hand and hover over the doctor as she weighs our child and wipes him clean. She expertly wraps him in a cute animal-print blanket and lays him on Tash’s chest.
Millicent stays for a moment to snap a couple of photos, but then claims she needs some coffee. I appreciate the chance for us to be alone for a few moments, and stare at Tash and the baby in awe. “I guess we should figure out what we’re going to call this little dude.” We have a list, but we hadn’t decided on a particular name yet, because Tash wanted to see what he looked like first.
She gazes down at his face. “I think he looks like an Oscar.”
“Oscar Page,” I muse. “I like it.”
“What about a middle name? We should choose something a bit rockstar, don’t you think?”
I grin. “Really?”
“Why not?”
“Because you know my favourite band of all time,” I warn.
“I’m fine with that,” she says, eyes twinkling.
“If you say so.” I pick up my son and hold him close. “Welcome to the world, Oscar Zeppelin Page.”
Life can throw you some crazy curveballs, but in my case, it’s turned out better than I could have ever imagined.
I know from this point on, I can handle anything.
THREE MONTHS LATER…
Tash
My life is insane.
I don’t know how I thought having a newborn, a business empire, and a partner on a world tour for several months would actually be manageable. I haven’t slept for more than four hours straight since Oscar was born.
Lincoln had arranged to have four weeks off right after the birth, but then his contract required him to go back on the road. He’s currently in Vietnam. I think. All the countries blur together after a while.
At least I ended up hiring an assistant, a lovely guy called Marco. He’s been an absolute godsend, dealing with the dozens of emails I receive every day, and basically filtering out all the little stuff that I never realised took up so much time before. I think even when Oscar starts going to daycare, I’m going to keep him employed full-time. My meals seem to have developed a bit of a cult following thanks to a feature on a national lifestyle show, and the supermarket chain is looking to expand the range next year. At that stage, we’ll need a much bigger commercial kitchen, and I’ll probably require multiple assistants.
Millicent has been a huge help, as has my mother, who took some time off work to come and help me with Oscar and Daisy.
Even Felix stayed true to his word and has been helping out a little since he temporarily located to a fancy penthouse in Teneriffe.
Daisy is in love with her little brother, and still equally besotted with Lincoln. It makes me sad that she never got to know her real dad, but Lincoln treats her exactly the same way he treats Oscar. And once the tour is over, we’ll all be able to spend more time together.
I’ve seen a few houses around town that I think Lincoln will approve of. Our aim is to have a new place by Christmas, because Isabella and Madison are coming over just after New Year’s and we want to have a room for them to call their own.
I glance at the clock. It’s 5pm on a Friday evening, and Millicent has insisted we reinstate our ritual of having a kid-free night once a month. My parents are due to arrive any minute and are going to look after Daisy and Oscar for three hours. That’s as long as I can stand being away from them at the moment.
As if on cue, the doorbell rings.
Mum and Dad are standing there, with Millicent impatiently bouncing around behind them. They all look way more energetic than I feel.
“Where’s my baby boy?” Mum asks, pushing her way inside and ignoring me in the process.
I point down the hall, while Dad wraps me up in a hug and kisses me on the forehead. “Hello, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”
“Tired. But I appreciate you babysitting tonight.”
“It’s no problem at all. Your mother is very excited to have an evening with her grandchildren.”
Millicent steps forward. “We have to go, otherwise we’ll be late.”
“For what?” Millicent had given me the impression that we were just going out for casual drinks and a bite to eat. I didn’t know we were on a schedule.
“You’ll see,” she says mysteriously.
I look at Dad. “Do you know anything about this?”