Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I wake up every morning looking for Roxie without even thinking about it, checking for the sound of her humming in the kitchen or the scent of whatever lotion she’s stolen from Dillon’s bathroom that day. Boone hovers like a proud guard dog while Dillon analyzes every vitamin label like he’s prepping for a medical exam. And me?
I watch. I notice. Every tiny shift in her energy. Every variation of her smile. Every time she tries too hard to pretend she isn’t scared.
When her first prenatal appointment rolls around, there isn’t a question. We’re all going.
As always this time of year, the drive into town feels like something out of a postcard. Snow powders the rooftops and crews string lights across Main Street, wrapping garland around the lampposts. A giant wreath hangs on the diner’s door, and holiday music drifts out of every store.
“Oh, wow,” Roxie murmurs from the backseat. “It’s already the holiday season?”
Boone shoots her a grin in the rearview mirror. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“I can’t believe I’ve been here this long already,” she says, leaning back and turning toward the window. “I thought I was only coming for a couple weeks. Tops.”
Personally, I can believe it’s been this long either. I feel every day how she’s becoming part of us in ways I can’t articulate without sounding like a lovesick idiot.
At the doctor’s office, a soft instrumental Christmas carol spills out as Boone pulls the door open.
On instinct, I look around the office, scanning for any trace of a threat even though I doubt Caruso’s men are hiding behind Pap smear pamphlets or whatever else they keep in here. A small, lit tree stands in the corner, decorated with tiny, knitted ornaments, and the air smells faintly like cinnamon tea.
Roxie hugs her arms around herself. “This feels, I don’t know, real, doesn’t it?”
Boone slides his hand down her back. “It is real, sweetheart.”
She smiles up at him, leaning into his side like she’s taken to doing when she needs reassurance.
We only wait a few minutes before the nurse pops her head out. “Roxanne Hamilton? You can all come on back now.”
Once we’re inside the sterile space that’s much too small for all of us, the nurse dims the lights a little and pulls up the ultrasound machine. Roxie climbs onto the table, tugging her shirt up with trembling fingers.
I step closer and take her hand. She doesn’t say anything, just rests her palm against mine, squeezing lightly. I can feel her pulse racing, but the nurse gives us a friendly smile. “Doc will be right in.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly, stuffing myself into a corner next to the bed to make space for the others, and the doctor, who walks in a minute later with a cheerful smile.
“Good morning,” she says without missing a beat at the sight of three huge men in her exam room. Instead, she just flicks her green eyes to each of us in turn and smiles again. “Are we ready to meet the little one?”
Boone makes a noise that’s somewhere between yes and I might throw up. Dillon stands so still he could’ve been carved out of stone. I just nod.
Meanwhile, the doctor gets on with things without gawking at us. The wand touches Roxie’s belly, cool gel glistening on her skin, and the screen flickers to life.
A grainy gray image swirls into view, and the doctor angles her head. “There we are. Hello, tiny human.”
She points at a blotch and smiles as she clicks a few buttons. The view on the screen changes, and suddenly her eyebrows shoot up. “Well, it looks like we’ve got a surprise.”
My heart slams once, so hard it hurts. “What kind of surprise?”
She points at the screen. “Two heartbeats.”
Roxie jolts. “Wait, what?”
“Twins,” the doctor announces, beaming at us. “Congratulations.”
For a second, nobody breathes. Twins. Two babies. Two.
Boone is the first to move, letting out a stunned laugh, breathy and disbelieving at first, then cracking into something softer. He drops his head into his hands.
Dillon whispers, “Holy shit.”
My throat closes up completely. I stare at the screen like I can memorize every pixel and every flutter. Two tiny flickers. Two lives. Two miracles we somehow made in one unexpected, unbelievable afternoon.
Roxie’s eyes fill instantly with tears. “Are they okay?”
“They’re perfect,” the doctor assures her as she clicks more buttons. All sorts of lines and crosses appear on the screen, and she doesn’t seem concerned. “So far, they seem strong and healthy. Everything looks wonderful. Here let’s listen.”
The doctor turns up the dial and the sound of fast, whooshing heartbeats fills the room.
“Nice and strong,” the doctor says.
After a few more minutes, the doctor prints a string of pictures, hands them over, and sends us off to make our next appointment. We walk out of her office together in a communal daze, into snow falling and carols playing, Christmas lights blinking above the street.