I stare through a glass window at the hospital’s NICU at the unbelievably tiny, perfect forms of my sister’s twin daughters.

Dex stands next to me, his exhaustion and worry and sheer joy all showing on his face. He needs a shave and his hair sticks up in every direction from running his hands through it all day.

“I can’t believe it, Dex,” I say, reaching over and squeezing his hand.

“I can’t either.”

The babies are incredible.

I only wish I could enjoy it more.

The flight only lasted an hour and a half. By the time we’d lifted off the runway I regretted the things I’d said to Jax, regretted what I’d done, and my heart caved right into my stomach.

What the hell was wrong with me?

What the hell is wrong with me?

I forced myself not to think about it the rest of the flight. My first and only priority had to be getting myself to Bee’s side.

When I arrived at the hospital, my parents were leaving for the night. They stayed until Bee made it safely to her recovery room.

In the lobby, they both hugged me tight, not letting go for a long time.

I guess no matter how old you get, you’re still your parents’ child.

Then I waited with Dex until the nurse came out to get him.

The actual C-section hadn’t taken very long, the nurse explained, but Bee had lost a lot of blood. Then she rattled off several medical terms that frankly I had no interest in.

“Is my sister going to be okay?”

“She’s stable now,” the nurse replied evenly, looking from me to Dex and back again. “As long as she’s given enough time to heal, she should be good as new.”

Then she guided Dex to the NICU. I stood next to him by the nursery window while he got the first glimpse of his daughters, and I joined him by the window, where we’ve been waiting for their condition to be assessed. It must be sheer torture not to be able hold them, but Dex’s eyes shine with his love, even though they’re framed by dark circles. He will wait as long as it takes.

A nurse comes through the door.

“Mr. Stevens?”

“That’s me.” He answers quickly, so eager to do anything he can.

“I know who you are, Mr. Stevens. Would you like to hold your daughters?”

“Oh, my God,” he says, tears coming to his eyes. “Yes, of course I would. Of course I would.”

The nurses let me stand nearby as he scrubs his arms up to the elbows and changes out of his shirt for a sterile gown, which they help him secure loosely, exposing his collarbone so the babies can get maximum skin-to-skin contact.

They’re premature, but not by so much that holding them will cause harm, explain the nurses as they gently place the two bundles, attached to wires and monitors, into his arms.

He stares into Twin A’s face—they haven’t decided which name goes with which baby yet—and then shifts his gaze to look into Twin B’s eyes. It’s the most sacred thing I’ve ever witnessed.

And then Dex bursts into tears.

He contains his sobs so that the babies aren’t jostled in any way, but the tears stream down his face unimpeded, causing tears to form in my own eyes.

“Fatherhood looks awesome on you, Dex,” I say, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand and stepping forward to dab at his with some of the hospital’s tissues.

“I didn’t realize it would be so wet,” he says in a dry tone that can’t hide his all-encompassing joy.

I snap thirty pictures on my phone. Bee will want to see this the moment she’s awake.

The sight of Dex holding his daughters, cradling them both so tenderly, breathing in their baby scent, delighting in every move they make with their tiny balled-up fists, is salt in the wound of my broken heart.

The broken heart I gave to myself.

This is what I want, I think, looking at him. A man to be my partner instead of a boss. A man who will look at our baby like this.

Jax could be that man.

I dismiss the thought.

Didn’t he prove to me that he can’t set aside his own selfish desires to respect mine?

My stomach twists. Even that is a lie. He cared for me when he didn’t have to. He made sure I had everything my heart desired.

Somehow, he must have been trying to do the same thing when he had me fired from my job, but I wouldn’t settle for his explanation.

I wouldn’t even hear him out.

Then, to twist the knife even more, I took advantage of his generosity and flew here on his private plane.

What made me into such a monster?

The answer is there before I look for it: my fear of failing.

Failing, as in not working hard enough to be considered valuable. Failing, as in being forced into choosing something I do not want without a safety net.

I’ve been so terrified by it that I’ve let everything in my life fall by the wayside except Sandra, who doesn’t, in the end, care a single iota about what happens to me.

Jesus, I was so stupid.

“Cate?”

Dex’s tone is soft, and I realize I’ve been lost in thought.

“Yeah, Dex?”

“Could you take a video of all of us? Bee isn’t going to want to have missed this. As soon as she’s awake…”

My sister is still recovering from her surgery, sleeping deeply, the nurses say, and I know Dex is right.

I pull out my phone and hit record, knowing while I’m doing it that I’m capturing some of the most precious moments in a human’s life.

I only wish Jax was by my side to see it with me.