Whew.
Salt water and open wounds don't mix well, so the lack of feeling means the doctors are right.
I'm healed.
Will wiggles as his legs hit the water, and when I am in and holding on to the wide with my right arm, I turn him to face me, his smile like sunbeams. Andrew has Charlie on his back, still in the crook of his arm, and he's saying something to him in low, soothing tones.
For the next twenty minutes, we just float.
The twins love it, little coos and sighs their only language, smiles their currency we accept eagerly. Will and Charlie are identical twins, but we can tell them apart. Charlie’s smile is crooked, the right side turning up a tinge more than the left.
Will sounds like a billy goat when he cries, and he’s an innie. Charlie’s an outie, though we’re only discovering that recently, as the umbilical cord heals.
They are carbon copies of my husband, which makes him puff up to no end, though Mom swears they have my wide eyes.
Andrew and I trade off babies and he kisses my cheek, our eyes meeting, the gaze deeper and deeper as we just... float.
The water holds us.
And so does the silence.
“Do you hear that?” I whisper in Andrew's ear as he bends down to kiss Will's forehead.
“Hear what?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“No cell phones. No texts. No work crew or nanny or night nurse. No emergency meetings, no demands from your dad. Just us.”
A funny look crosses his face, a mix of defensiveness, agreement, joy and sorrow.
And then he leans across me, kisses Will's shoulder, and looks at me again.
“If this is what nothing feels like, I want more nothing.”
;)
THANK YOU so much for reading Shopping for a CEO’s Baby. If you are suffering from “End of the Book Syndrome,” you’re in luck, because I have a BONUS EPILOGUE for you.
Just click here to get a free copy of it. Amanda’s first Mother’s Day is full of surprises… and love. <3