Always Ever After (Always 2.50) - Page 21

Epilogue: Braxton

I look up at the clock, bleary-eyed. Two o’clock. Is that a.m. or p.m.? There’s light coming in through the cracks in the blinds. That must mean it’s afternoon. It’s been a little hard to keep track. To say the last twenty-four hours or so have been a whirlwind would be the understatement of the century.

Kylie is fast asleep in the hospital bed. That fucking woman—I already knew she was amazing, but after what I witnessed a few hours ago I will forever be in awe of her. She was so damn strong. Whoever claimed women are the weaker sex didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about—and obviously never witnessed a woman give birth.

Yesterday—was it really only yesterday?—we were on the couch, and Kylie couldn’t seem to get comfortable. I got her some extra pillows and rubbed her feet while she dozed off. I sat there, watching her for a while. Her eyes were closed, her face still, her hands on the swell of her belly. I was mesmerized. Pregnancy did nothing but make Kylie more beautiful. Her body changed, but it was so sensual. I still loved every inch of her.

Being pregnant wasn’t always easy on her. I did what I could to help, but at the end of the day, there’s only so much a guy can do. I was always on hand for back rubs, and foot rubs, and bringing home her favorite foods.

And sex when she wanted it. Holy shit, there was about a four month stretch where she could not get enough. It was fucking awesome. It got a little awkward as her belly grew, but all it took was a little creativity. I’m great at being creative.

As I sat there on the couch, caressing her skin, she shifted her hips and her forehead tightened. She held her belly, opened her eyes, and simply said, “Uh oh.”

It wasn’t a race to the hospital, like you see in the movies. But she definitely started having contractions, and we knew it was close. We hung out at home for a while, until they started to get more intense. She called her doctor’s office, and they told her it was time to come in.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my entire life.

She held my hand in a tight grip on the way to the hospital. I walked her inside and they put her in a wheelchair. For a second, I thought they were going to take her away from me, and I almost lost my shit. But the nurse said, “Come on back, Dad,” and I followed.

Hearing those words really almost made me lose my shit.

The next ten hours were the most exhausting, incredible, and awe-inspiring hours of my life. Kylie was a fucking rock star. They told us ahead of time that a C-section was likely, but if the conditions were right they’d let Kylie try to give birth naturally. She really hoped it would work out that way.

We got very lucky. It took time for her body to be ready, but when the time came, the babies were in the right position and everything went perfectly.

That’s right. Babies. We just had twins.

We got that piece of news when she was about four months along. She was shocked. Somehow, I wasn’t. Of course we’d have twins. A boy and a girl, just like me and Selene.

The door opens and a nurse comes in, wheeling a bassinet. I sit up, moving the beige hospital blanket to the side.

She gives me a warm smile and speaks in a soft whisper. “How’s Mom doing?”

I glance over at Kylie. She’s still sound asleep. She needs it, after everything she’s been through. “She’s good. Been sleeping for a while.”

“Good,” the nurse whispers. “We should let her rest.”

I stand and stare at the two newborn babies, wrapped in white blankets, little knit hats covering their heads. My heart rate kicks up, and a deep feeling of wonder runs through me. Our babies. Kylie’s and mine.

“They’re doing very well,” the nurse says.

They took the babies to the nursery for a while so Kylie and I could get some sleep. I didn’t want to let them go, but the nurse had me walk back with them so I could see where they’d be, and she promised to bring them back soon. It was hard, even though I knew she was right. Kylie, in particular, needed rest.

“Can I hold them again?” I ask.

The nurse smiles. “Of course you can. Actually, that will be good for them. They’re maintaining their body temperature pretty well, but they could use some skin to skin contact. Here, take off your shirt and have a seat. I’ll hand them to you. It’s easier that way with two.”

I strip off my t-shirt and toss it aside while the nurse picks up my little boy and unwraps him so he’s in nothing but a diaper. He squirms and lets out a little grunt. I settle back in the reclining chair and the nurse hands him to me, placing him tummy down on my chest with his head near my shoulder.

“There’s one,” she says.

She picks up my daughter, and my throat feels tight. She unwraps her and helps place her tiny form on the other side of my chest. Then she takes a warm blanket and lays it over all three of us.

“There,” she says. “Perfect.”

I tuck these tiny, perfect little people in the crooks of my arms and look down at them. They both squirm around a bit, but it only takes a couple minutes for them to relax. Their cheeks squish against my chest, and their eyes are closed. Their skin is so soft against mine.

The nurse gives me one last smile, and leaves. Alone in this dim, quiet room, with my wife sleeping nearby, and two babies on my chest, it hits me: I’m a dad.