“HI, GORGEOUS. HI. Hi!” I coo at Tomi, holding her tiny feet in my hands from where I sit in the middle of the nursery floor. She’s laying on a warm, furry blanket, dressed in the cutest, white and red, Scandinavian footie pajamas. I touch the tip of my nose to the top of hers and shake my head from side to side. “You smell so good. Yes, you do. Should we brush your hair, hmm? Yeah?”
She kicks her legs and flails her arms, grunting at me all the while. The smile that dances across my face can’t be helped, and I press a kiss to her soft cheek before I turn and offer the same affection to Brighton. He’s all buttoned up in his matching gray and white pajamas. Letting go of Tomi’s feet, I grab hold of Brighton’s hands, pinning them to his belly as I shower his whole face with sweet kisses.
“Hi, my handsome boy. Hi. Are you all clean? Hmm?”
He coughs out a little hum and then smiles at me. I gasp, completely in love with the sight, and then kiss his parted lips.
“Let’s brush your hair, too.”
“Knock, knock!”
Both Tomi and Brighton shift their gaze toward the ceiling at the sound of another’s voice, and I giggle as I murmur, “Who is that, hmm? Who is it?”
“We come bearing pizza. And since I brought food, I’m demanding snuggles, so my niece and nephew better not be sleeping.”
“Hear that, babies? Someone’s here to see you.”
I’m gently stroking the hair on Tomi’s head with the soft bristles of a baby brush when Melanie fills the doorway of the nursery.
“Oh, my goodness. They are just too darn cute. I mean, I had faith y’all could make some pretty babies—but these two? No wonder the world’s in a tizzy tryin’ to get a glimpse of the precious little things.”
I don’t look her way as she speaks, her words triggering a memory I’m not soon to forget. Rather, as I move on to smooth out Brighton’s hair, I recall the conversation I had with Simon yesterday morning—the one assuring me he’d gone through great lengths to insure none of the photos taken of us the other day were displayed in any major publication. I know that doesn’t mean the photos are gone, or that those moments aren’t captured and stored on countless phones, but I try not to dwell on it. After all, this is life as I know it—and like Ashley said, we can’t stop living as a way of keeping our children out of the media. That’s no life at all.
Once I’m finished with their hair, I kiss them both once more and put the past out of my mind. When I twist my neck to find Melanie still hovering in the doorway, I’m surprised to see her fighting tears as she stares in at us.
“Mel, what’s wrong?”
She clicks her tongue against her teeth and rolls her eyes as she shakes her head. “I’m bein’ silly. Don’t mind me.”
“Silly? Come in here. What’s going on? Is something wrong down at the house?”
“No,” she insists, finally entering the room. “The house is comin’ together. Don’t you worry about that. Course, I had to send daddy and Ashley to go get another couple trees, but—”
“Wait, another tree? Mel, you know I trust your event planning skills—but how many trees could one house need?”
“Hon, it’s a big house,” she states, as if this explains the need for more than one Christmas tree. “Trust me. When you get down there, you’ll see. Even Jill agreed somethin’ was missin’.”
“I agreed to what?” Jill inquires as she waddles into the room.
“More trees,” says Melanie, gazing down at the twins.
Having not yet forgotten my sister-in-law’s emotional state a minute ago, I refocus the conversation as I ask, “So, if you’re successfully turning the guest house into a winter wonderland, then why are you upset?”
“Every time I think it, it makes me feel like a spoiled brat,” she mumbles, reaching up to sweep her ponytail over her shoulder and down her chest.
Nudging my sister-in-law with her elbow, Jill questions, “Think what?”
Melanie fidgets with the ends of her hair, stalling for a second. Dropping her hands with a sigh, she asks, “Have you noticed I’m the only one in this room without a baby? And I’m not pointin’ that out to make anyone feel sorry for me. Scottie and I aren’t ready to start a family, yet. But that’s just it. Everywhere I look, people are gettin’ engaged. And I know—I plan weddin’s for a livin’—but I’m not talkin’ about my clients. I’m talkin’ about my friends. Scottie’s sister. Hell, even the guy Ashley got to deliver our pizza was probably engaged.”
Jill and I exchange a sympathetic glance, and I can tell she’s just as at a loss for words as I am. It’s hard to know what to say when we’ve both got exactly what it sounds like she wants. Ashley and Leo aren’t going anywhere—and they’ve made sure we know it. As long as Scottie has loved Melanie, I can’t explain why he’s not ready to take the next step and promise her forever. Even more, to offer empty assumptions won’t make her feel better.
“Have you guys talked about it?” asks Jill with a feeble shrug.
“Yeah. He knows it’s what I want. For some reason, he keeps tellin’ me he’s not ready. I don’t know why. But if I push it, then I’m that girl and we’ll fight. Only, it’s Christmas. I don’t want to fight at Christmas.”
Tomi coos, earning my attention. I smile at her as I tickle her belly with my fingertips.
“While I can’t make sense of Scottie’s hesitation, I think I might know a couple someones who could help cheer you up.” My stomach growls, and the thought of food while my babies are quiet and content is too pertinent to ignore. Shifting my gaze back up, I suggest, “Do you think you could watch them for a few minutes while I go grab a bite to eat?”
“Are you kiddin’?” Melanie scowls at me, as if I’ve asked the most ridiculous question, and then shrugs out of her jacket. She tosses it over the arm of the sofa, plopping herself onto the center cushion behind me. “I’ll take one of each, please.”
I scoop Brighton up first, settling him in the crook of her right arm before placing Tomi to rest in her left. Standing to full height, I rake my fingers through my hair and stare at them for a moment. It only takes me a fraction of a second to realize I need a picture. I grab my phone from off of the changing table and snap one before I come to my senses.
“They’ll want to eat soon. If they start to get fussy, just give me a holler.”
“I think we’ll be okay for a few, right guys? It’s not every day you get to hang out with Auntie Mel. I, on the other hand,” she goes on to say, smiling up at me, “might melt from the overwhelming amount of adorableness in my arms—but take your time. We’ll be right here.”
“I’m going to join you. I could use some food,” Jill states, following me out of the nursery.
“I’m pretty sure pizza is the last thing my hips need, but I can smell it from here, and I don’t think I can say no.”
Linking her arm through mine, Jill bumps her hip against mine and declares, “I wouldn’t let you even if you wanted to. You’re allowed to indulge a little. Besides, it’s six days until Christmas—there are no rules.”
“Right,” I scoff, knowing good and well that’s not sound logic in the slightest. Nevertheless, I’m too hungry to argue. “How are you feeling, by the way? I heard you were with Mel for most of the day.”
“I’m good. Don’t worry about me. Honestly, I’m more relieved than anything that we’re able to do this. I knew Mel and Deb could pull it off, but I think it’ll be really good for you to take it easy this year.”
I furrow my brow as we reach the kitchen, a wave of guilt washing over me. I step away from Jill, heading toward the cabinet to grab a couple plates as I murmur, “Can I confess something?”
“Of course. What is it?”
Turning toward her once more, I reply, “There’s a part of me that feels like I don’t deserve any of the concessions that are being made for me. This is my life now—those babies are my life now—and I can’t expect everyone to change their plans just because I have moments when I feel completely overwhelmed. It doesn’t work like that for any other mom’s out there.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but I disagree.” She pauses, taking a step toward me. When she reaches for the plates in my grasp, I relinquish them without question, watching as she sets them on the counter before she faces me once more. “It’s true that other moms out there don’t have the luxury of a support system when life gets overwhelming—but you do. And right now, I don’t think there’s anything wrong then letting your family love you and help you. Something tells me you’re going to need us now more than ever.”
“What do you mean? Why?”
Jill takes a deep breath and smiles at me before she holds up a finger. “One second. I got you something.”
I watch in confusion as she leaves the room, returning a second later with a small, white plastic shopping bag in her hand.
“Don’t freak out when I give this to you, okay?”
Bewilderment tugs my brow down into a scowl as I hold out my hand. “What are you talking about? What is it?”
“A pregnancy test,” she says simply, slipping the plastic handles over my fingertips. “Actually, three of them—because if one is positive, I’m not sure you’ll believe it, so you might need to take a couple.”
My jaw falls open as I stare at her in awe. When she smiles at me, I choke on a laugh and then shake my head at her. “Jill, I’m not pregnant.”
“Are you sure?”
Another laugh bubbles out of me, and I look down at the bag dangling from my hand, as if it’s full of smelly diapers. “My babies are eleven weeks old. I’m breastfeeding. I—”
“I don’t mean to invade your privacy, but are you and Ashley having sex again? I mean, I know you’re allowed after six weeks—which means you could be expecting if you have been intimate. I’ve read about it. I know it’s harder to conceive while you’re breastfeeding, but it’s not impossible.”
My laughter fades when it becomes quite clear that Jill isn’t joking. Almost nine months ago, it was me giving Jill a pregnancy test, insisting she take it; but this, this is different. She was trying, and Ashley and I certainly aren’t. While I can’t deny he and I haven’t thought about using any sort of contraception in over a year, I can’t possibly be pregnant.
“Jill—this isn’t funny.”
“Babe, I’m not trying to be funny,” she murmurs with a sweet smile. The light in her pretty blue eyes speaks of her honesty, and she grabs my hands with hers as if to reinforce the truth of her words. “Do you remember a couple of years ago—after you got married and Leo and I were still new? You flew me to Seattle for my birthday.”
“Yes. Yes, I remember,” I mutter, shaking my head. The act does nothing to rid my mind of the fog of confusion that seems to be growing thicker by the second. “How could I forget?”
“Well, that was the first time I saw you completely immersed in Ashley’s world—your new world. We were leaving the concert venue, and there were screaming fans and paparazzi and it was insane. But when we left, when we walked through that wild crowd, you barely batted an eyelash. And the next night, when the paparazzi found out what hotel we were staying at, you weren’t fazed. You’d known Ashley for a year, you’d been in the spotlight for less time than that, and you handled it with so much grace. I remember being in awe of what a badass you were.”
“If this is about the other day, that’s different. I—”
“Listen to me, I’m not criticizing you,” she insists, gripping my fingers tighter. “I know the other day was surprising and frustrating and kind of scary. But I’ve never seen you cry like that before. I know they’re your babies, but you were their mama bear all afternoon. I watched you. You were great with them. Then, in an instant, it was like you couldn’t control it. And I know you’re a little sensitive lately, but this isn’t postpartum. This is something else. Or…maybe someone else.”
As a burning sensation begins to irritate the back of my eyes, I clamp my jaw shut tight and try to draw in a deep breath; only, I can’t. My lungs feel as though they’re filling up with emotions I can’t even name. I can manage no more than one shallow inhalation after another. I pinch my eyebrows together as I purse my lips, wanting so badly to hold back my tears—but it’s no use.
“Dammit. Why am I crying?”
Giggling, Jill lets go of my hands and pulls me into a hug. The feel of her hard belly pressed against my soft one causes a small sob to erupt from within me, and I cling to her—afraid of what it might mean if she’s right.
“You won’t know until you know. When you’re ready, you have what you need.”
“What if you’re right? What if I can’t do it? I’m still trying to figure out what I’m doing now.”
“I know you didn’t grow up with a mom; and the closest you ever had to one when we were young died when I lost mine. It might be hard for you to see or believe right now, but you’re doing so great. Not to mention, you’re not alone. You’ve got a big ole family now, and a husband who will never leave your side. Just remember what I’ve always told you.”
“What’s that?” I manage on a whisper.
“Be brave, Corie Hicks—be brave.”
I’m able to get a hold of my emotions only after my stomach reminds me of how hungry I am. I then have the chance to eat a couple slices of pizza before Melanie calls for me, as I suspected she would. Upon reaching the nursery, Jill asks Melanie for a ride home—knowing, like only a best friend would, I could use some time alone.
“I’d wait for Leo, but I know he’s trying to get things in order so he can take a few days off for Christmas. We’re running out of nights with just the two of us, and I’m trying not to take them for granted.”
Melanie sighs as I set the stage for the twin’s next feeding, settling Brighton in his lounge pillow and then Tomi. When she stands to her feet, she nods and replies, “I’d be happy to take you. I thought I’d stay in the guest house tonight and get a little more decoratin’ done, but I think I’m going to go see Scottie. You’re right—not to take this season of your life for granted, no matter how much you’re lookin’ forward to the next.”
I rub her arm comfortingly and murmur, “He loves you.”
“I know.” She smiles at me and then looks back at my crying babies before she says, “We’re going to get out of here. We’ll see you soon.”
As they take their leave, I settle myself between my babies—securing the nursing pillow around me before I get the twins situated. After they both latch and the room grows quiet, I’m soon lost in my own thoughts. I marvel at the beautiful babies that are my children, all the while wondering if it’s possible for me to love a third the way I love them. Just thinking about having another child stirs a cocktail of anxiety in my stomach. The last thing I want is to bring another life into this world only to let them down.
Ashley and I haven’t really discussed more children, for obvious reasons. As soon as we found out we were having boy/girl twins, it seemed to take away the need to discuss how big we wanted our family to be. Growing up as an only child, I knew I didn’t want that for my own children—but that was a concern instantly eradicated. Even more, with one of each sex, one could argue we could stop after our first round, if we really wanted. Yet, even if Ashley and I were meant to have more, the idea of doing so now is daunting, to say the least.
I draw in a deep breath and blow out my anxious thoughts. Replaying Jill’s words in my mind, I try to relax as I remind myself that I won’t know until I know. Right now, I have two babies who need me as another day comes to a close. Right now, it’s just the three of us, and I won’t take it for granted.
I CAN’T SAY what it is that pulls me out of my sleep—but before I can slip back into the confines of unconsciousness, I’m roused by the prickling sense that something is off. It’s quiet—too quiet. I turn my head in search of my wife when I don’t hear the sound of her breathing. I reach for her, but the sheets are cold. Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I peer through the darkness but see no sight of her.
It’s rare for her to get up in the middle of the night to see to the twins without my knowing. Since we’ve brought them home, I’ve naturally become a lighter sleeper. Corie doesn’t always need my help, but I never want her to feel like she’s in this alone. I took time off so I could play an active role as a father and a spouse. I’m committed to offering all of them as much as I can while I have the flexibility to do so. This is why, when I hear neither of my children or the movements of my sweetheart, I will my body to get out of bed in search of the unknown.
When I reach the threshold of our bedroom, a frown tugs at my brow as I hear movement. Only, it’s not in the nursery that I hear it, but somewhere in the heart of the house. Opening the door, I see light sneaking down the hallway, and my curiosity beckons me toward it. I’m halfway to the kitchen when I smell it—the sweet aroma of decadent treats—and the scent overtakes any remaining desire to crawl back into bed in search of sleep. In this moment, the only thing I want are answers.
Corie doesn’t hear me as I come to a halt a few feet away from her, and I don’t speak. I don’t know what to say. What I see has left me speechless. Furthermore, it makes no sense. Lining the counter are dozens of cupcakes piled on cooling racks. The island is a mess, the ingredients used to make various types of cupcakes scattered everywhere. It’s obvious she’s been at this for hours, but I have no recollection of her leaving me in bed. I don’t even know what time it is.
“Cor?”
She gasps, her hands clenching the bag of frosting in her hand as she jumps and turns toward me. The icing spews from the tip, spraying the countertop in cream colored topping.
“Sugar? What are you doin’?”
Corie stares at me, as if I’m the one acting strange, and then replies, “I’m making cupcakes.”
“I see that, darlin’,” I start to stay, easing my way toward her. I don’t miss the way her hands still clutch the bag of frosting, her whole body tense as if she’s on edge. “What time is it?”
“Um…” She sighs, closing her eyes for a long second before she glances over her shoulder at the clock on the stove. Righting herself once more, she answers, “Three. It’s three o’clock.”
Having closed the distance between us, I gently pry the frosting from her hands as I murmur, “Brighton and Tomi are asleep. You should be, too.”
Her gaze drops down to my hands, and her fingers reach for the bag as I set it on the counter. I block her efforts, stepping even closer as I slip my hands around the sides of her neck. Using one of my thumbs, I lift her chin until she’s looking at me and wait for her reply.
“I couldn’t sleep. I just—I was laying there, and my thoughts were everywhere. It was driving me crazy, so I came in here and…” She blows out a sigh and lifts a single shoulder in a feeble shrug. “I started with red velvet. I know how much your dad likes them. Then I figured I’d do chocolate and vanilla, because those are classic and if I wanted to get really creative, I could put any kind of frosting on them I felt like. Then I thought of Uncle Cal and how much he loves carrot cake. It’s not really a Christmas flavor, but I haven’t seen him in a while; I thought it might be nice.”
“Cor—?”
“And then I thought of you. Of course I thought of you,” she interrupts. She shakes her head as much as my hold will allow, resting her hands against my sides. My brow dips even deeper as I watch her eyes gloss over with tears. “So I made lemon poppy seed cupcakes, too.”
“Corie, sweetheart, it’s the middle of the night. What’s got you so stirred up that you’re in here bakin’ up a storm?”
Her face crumbles as her first tear falls, and then she whispers, “I think I’m pregnant.”
Her words hit me like a heavy gust of wind slamming into me so aggressively I lose my breath. My eyes dance around her face, searching for I don’t even know. All I see is my wife staring right back—searching my expression just the same.
It takes me a second to wrap my mind around what she’s saying. Yet, even when the idea starts to take shape and blossom into awareness, it still seems too crazy to truly believe.
“Run that by me again,” I mutter, sweeping my thumb along her jawline.
“Jill thought maybe I might be—that the reason I keep crying might be because I’m extra hormonal, but not because of the babies we already have. Last night, she gave me a bag full of pregnancy tests. I laughed, because how could I be pregnant?”
A smirk curls the corner of my mouth, and Corie coughs out a pathetic giggle.
“Yeah,” she continues through a tearful smile. “I just didn’t think we had to worry about that. My body has belonged to those twins for almost year. But I couldn’t argue with Jill’s logic. The more I thought about it, I kept going over the last couple of weeks and all the times you’ve had to calm me down. So—so I took a test, and it was positive. Then I thought I should take another. I mean, what if my body is confused? It hasn’t been so long since I was pregnant, so I took another one. It was negative. Now I really don’t know what to believe—but since I’m standing here, crying in your arms again—”
She stops at the sound of my chuckle. The low hum of my amusement can’t be silenced. The thought never crossed my mind that the reason she’s been more emotional than usual has not been from simply a lack of rest. To think that she’s carrying another one of my children right now is incredible.
“You got another test?”
“One more,” she replies with a nod.
I let go of her face and take a step away from her. Grabbing hold of one of her wrists, I slide my fingers toward her hand, pulling it away from my side until it’s engulfed in mine. Turning toward the bedroom, I insist, “Come on, darlin’. Let’s break that tie.”
She holds tight to my hand, following after me until we enter the master suite; then it’s her leading me toward the bathroom. When she flicks on the light, I see the two tests she’s already taken on the counter. I step away from her in order to have a closer look. Just as she said, one is clearly positive. The other reads as negative—but as I squint at it, I wonder if it’s my eyes or my wishful thinking that’s convinced it’s a faulty test with inconclusive results. Now wide awake, I look to Corie as she opens the third box.
“Can you pee?”
“Yeah,” she sniffles, heading toward the toilet room. “I’ll be just a minute.”
I turn my back to the vanity mirror, propping myself up against the counter as I fold my arms across my chest and wait. When she’s finished, she exits the little nook with the test and a tissue. She places one on top of the other before she washes her hands and then looks up at me helplessly.
“Come here.” The instant I open my arms, she tucks herself into my side, and I press a kiss into her hair. “What are you thinkin’, sugar?”
“I’m scared,” she answers on a whisper.
Reaching up to squeeze the back of her neck, I request, “Look at me.” When she does, I lock my hazel gaze with her brown one and say, “Talk to me. What do you have to be scared of?”
“What if I really am pregnant? We spent this whole year planning for the twins. You put your tour on hold, you fell off the map for two months, and I’ve barely done more than check emails since we brought Tomi and Brighton home. How are we supposed to do this all over again? You can’t take another year and limit your schedule to what I need, to what another child would need. Next year was supposed to be your revamp year—we were going to ramp you back up and get you out there doing what you love. I can’t do that with you if I can’t even get on a plane.
“Ashley, how do we do this? How do we have three kids under the age of two? We didn’t plan for this. I don’t feel ready for this. I don’t want to do this without you, but I can’t keep you from your music. And how can I keep my job when I’m taking care of three babies? I love my job—you gave me my job—but I’m not superwoman. Far from it. And I’m still fat. Oh, my god. I’ll never walk the red carpet with you again. Ashley—”
“Corie, what’d I tell you about disrespectin’ my wife?” I grunt, leaning down to touch my forehead to hers.
She rears her head back, staring at me intently as she states, “I’m not disrespecting anyone. I’m stating the facts. I’m thirty pounds heavier than I want to be, and a baby is sure to pack on at least thirty more. I’m sure it’ll be a hot topic—America’s Sexiest Dad and his Backwoods Whale.”
Having heard enough, I drop my hands to her waist, holding on tightly as I spin us both around. I then lift her up and plop her ass on the counter. Her gasp steals her breath, offering me another second to find my words; only, I don’t know what to say that I haven’t said before. Frustrated that she’s seemed to have forgotten who I am, what I stand for, and the future I’ve promised her from the beginning, I expel a heavy sigh and rake my fingers through my hair. Looking away from her, my eyes catch sight of the test. The answer is as clear as the north star, in the middle of the star studded sky, in the heart of the country, away from all the city lights.
An overwhelming sense of clarity washes over me. Thinking back on this year, especially the last several weeks, I can honestly say there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be than right here with my family. She’s right. What she’s saying are the facts. Life will never be the same. My career—my music—it’ll never be the same. But I’m not sorry. Even more, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Running a hand down my face, I seek out her gaze, keeping my voice gentle and level as I plead, “I don’t want to argue. Not about this, okay? What’s this about? Hmm? What’s this really about?”
“What do you mean? I’m trying to tell you. I might be—”
“There’s no might about it, sugar. You’re pregnant. So what are you trying to say? You don’t want this baby?”
“Wh…” She doesn’t even finish the word, her hands pressing to her belly as she jerks her gaze toward the abandoned test. She pulls in a deep breath when she sees the results, her eyes falling closed as she breathes it out slowly.
“Cor?”
She manages another shuddered breath and then locks her gaze with mine. Without even blinking, her tears start to cascade down her cheeks, and I’ve never felt more helpless. “Of course. Of course I want our baby,” she cries.
“So what’s this about? Huh?” I make room for myself between her legs, cupping her cheeks in my hands as I search her eyes for an explanation. “I can’t help you—I can’t make this better if you don’t tell me what you’re so afraid of.”
“I’ve forgotten what normal feels like. Our normal. Your normal. The other day, when you were gone, it was the closest to normal I’ve felt in weeks—but then I got out there on my own, and I couldn’t even handle it. But our babies deserve normal. And adding a third to the mix? What if I can’t do it? What if I fail? What if I let them down? What if I let you down?
“You deserve a woman on your arm you can be proud to show off. You deserve a manager who can handle Ashley Hicks like the multi-million-dollar business that he is. And our babies—our babies should be able to travel the world with their daddy and without the fear of the media. It’s just so much, and I’m afraid I’m going to let you all down.”
“Sweetheart, you’re talkin’ like you’re in this alone. When have I ever abandoned you?”
Lifting her shoulders in a careless shrug, she replies, “Never. You’re perfect. You get up with me in the middle of the night. You volunteer to change diapers. You’ve done more laundry than I have, and you’ve spent the last two and a half months sharing your sweatpants with me and telling me you love me. You are perfect.”
“I’m not. I’m not perfect.”
“You are. You’ve given up so much—and I can’t ask you to give up more.”
“Corie—god, you are infuriating, did you know that?” I ask on a chuckle. I touch my furrowed brow to hers, shaking my head as I mutter, “I’m not perfect. How you could forget that, I don’t know. I told you once not to put me on a pedestal, not to set me up to fail you, and you seem to have forgotten I’m still me. I’m just Ashley. Your Ashley.
“Have I been puttin’ in a little extra effort? Hell, yes. I was in that room with you when you brought my children into this world—I owe you a hell of a lot more than a few loads of laundry and a couple sleepless nights. But I’m also the man who left you here for a gig across the country, not even thinkin’ about makin’ sure you were equipped to experience this normal you seem to be lookin’ for. I’m the same man who invited our families to stay for Christmas and then argued with my sister all afternoon about the number of damn trees she thinks that house needs—all the while knowin’ she and mama are bendin’ over backwards to make this whole thing happen.
“Darlin’, I’m no more perfect than you are. And for you to think I’m givin’ up anything.” I pause, sealing my eyes closed tight. I don’t open them as I whisper, “There’s nothin’ in the world I want more than you and those babies. There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than right here with you. And that baby you’re growin’? I’ll do this all over again, so long as I’m doin’ it with you.
“We’ve got a new normal. Might take a little while for us to figure it out and get used to it, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. You’re not my consolation prize. You’re not my arm candy—and our babies are our world. I’ll always have my music. Always. But this life I’m livin’ with you? I’ve only got one shot, and I’m not gonna let it pass me by—tradin’ it for the spotlight and a bunch of screamin’ fans.”
With my eyes still closed, I let the silence of early morning settle all around us; I let my words sink in, hoping against hope that the woman I love has heard me. A minute passes and then another. When I feel her warm hands take hold of my face, a small smile teases my lips.
She sniffles and then breathes, “This is real. This is happening. We’re having another baby.”
I lift my head, pressing a kiss to her forehead before I break her hold on me and wrap her in my arms. Resting my cheek on top of her head, I repeat, “We’re havin’ another baby.”