“Maple Cheeto creams,” Shannon explains, pushing the box toward me. “Try one!”
“That's disgusting,” Declan opines.
“It's testing really well with the fourteen-to-twenty crowd.”
“Testing?” he chokes out. “You're running market tests on that as a product for our stores?”
“No! Even better. As a coffee flavor.”
Jason, Mom, and Andrew start gagging.
I high-five Shannon over Will's little head.
“Can we talk about your babies?” Shannon asks.
“Please. Anything but Cheeto maple abominations,” Andrew says as he gives her a hug. “Hug me while I have two free arms.”
“That'll be a rare moment for the next year. I'll take you up on it,” Shannon whispers in his ear as they embrace. “Congratulations.”
Declan crashes their hug, the three of them in a big, happy tangle of limbs.
“Congrats, bro. Now introduce me to my nephews.”
Will unlatches and fusses, sudden low-grade warmth in his diaper an obvious hint at his distress.
“Perfect timing,” I say to Declan as he reaches for Will, averting his eyes as my gown slips. Once the baby's in his arms I pull the blanket up and smile.
“Why?” Declan waits two seconds, then laughs. “Got it. Someone needs a change.”
If you had told me five years ago that the suave billionaire dating my klutzy best friend would one day hold my son in his arms and matter-of-factly change his diaper when needed, I'd have said you were as crazy as Meghan the mystery shopper. She’s the one who called in sick six years ago, leaving Shannon to cover all her bagel-shop visits.
On that fateful day, she met Declan in the men's room of one of the Anterdec-owned fast-food restaurants. Yes, the men’s room.
And now he's my brother-in-law, my sons are his nephews, and my children are my best friend's daughter’s cousins.
Life doesn't get any more perfect than this.
For the next fifteen minutes, we play pass the babies, and I sample the special chocolates, loving Marie from afar for finding such a personal treat for me. My sons are attention magnets, as we revel in the joy of new life.
I yawn.
As if my yawn summoned a caffeine genie, Marie appears, holding two full trays of coffees, her eyes eager and her hands clearly itching to get a baby in them.
The trays go on the table that rolls over my bed and she glares at Jason and Shannon.
“You could have come and helped me!”
“We were busy,” Jason says to Will, who is in his arms.
“Busy hogging the babies! Give him to me. What's his name? Oh, hi, Amanda.”
“Get used to that one,” Shannon grouses. “We spend nine months building them, go through pain to produce them, and then they're born and we're just wallpaper to the grandparents.”
“Did you say something, dear?” Marie replies as Jason hands off Will to a rapt Marie.
“See?” Shannon throws her hands in the air, then examines the coffees. She pulls one with her name on the lid out of the tray, then finds mine and hands it to me.
I sip the breve carefully to check the temp before giving my bloodstream a healthy infusion of caffeine.
Andrew's cocked eyebrow says he's not sure about my coffee.
“One is fine,” I insist.
“It gets in the breast milk.”
“Now you're the caffeine police?”
He kisses my cheek. Jason gives him a look of approval, then comes to me, arms open.
A Dad hug is exactly what I need right now, especially as Jason whispers, “Can I consider them my adopted grandkids? Because I know they have James as a grandfather, but what kid couldn't use more?”
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe Marie and Jason do consider me one of their own.
And maybe that means we find the family we need, blood related or not.
Because blood doesn't make a family.
Love does.
Chapter 23
Andrew
“I can't help,” Amanda says in a mournful tone as we pull up to the front door of the house. Rather than having someone drive us home from the hospital, I've done it, wanting this to be a special moment.
Just the four of us.
“Of course not. I'll get the babies inside. You can wait and I'll come back out for you.”
“YOU CAN'T DO THAT!” she hiss-screams.
“Why... not?”
“The babies will be alone in the house! What if something happens to them?”
“Like what? A random bear in the woods finds its way into the living room out of nowhere?”
“YES! Or a piece of the ceiling could crack off and fall on Will's head. Maybe you lock yourself out of the house after putting them in there and coming back for me. Or a fire alarm could be set off by a faulty wire, and then there's an electrical fire, and the babies are trapped in the – ”
I gently press my fingertips over her frantic lips and lean in.
Amanda blinks slowly. “Wow. Mom was right,” she mutters under my touch.
“Right?”
“She said there would be a rush of hormones as my body adjusts to being not pregnant, and to cut myself some slack.”
“Pam is definitely right.”
“But you can't just leave them in there alone.”
“Sure,” I say slowly. “Then I'll help you out first.”
“You can't. I'm between them back here.”
“You insisted.”
“And I was right. Will needed me to stroke his eyebrow just right so he wouldn't cry.”
I smother a smile. She's so maternal. So territorial.
“It'll be okay. I'll use the stroller.”
“The stroller?”
“I'll unload Charlie. Click him in. Unload Will. Click him in. Then I'll unload you and click you in.”
“Ha ha. But the stroller? How will you wheel it to the door?”
“I'll go around back. It’s only one step there. And in the meanwhile, I'll text Gina to hire someone to install a ramp at the main door. We'll have this fixed in no time. It'll come up again and I don't want you to worry.”
The air around her changes.
“I have a feeling my life is going to involve nothing but worry going forward. It feels like I suddenly have to fix everything, and at the same time, have no power to do any of it.”
“You're not alone. You have me. And I have plenty of power because of you.”
She snorts. “You had more than enough power before we met and I'm certain I didn't give you any.”
I point to Will, who jolts as I reach into the backseat and unlatch him. “You gave me plenty. Fourteen point one pounds' worth.”
Our eyes lock.
I've never loved her more.
“WAAAA!” Charlie's shrill cry pierces the moment. I go to the trunk, pull out the double stroller, and unlock the long contraption with a snap worthy of Jason Momoa opening a lawn chair. Three minutes later, I've got their car seats clicked in, and they're wailing in unison.
But first things first.
“Get them inside!” Amanda urges me, sitting in place, clutching a pillow to her midsection.