Page 39 of Silver Fox's Twin Surprise

“Shh, it’s going to be fine. We’re going to get through this together, okay?” she said, her voice shaking. But I couldn’t find the words to respond.

All I could think about were my babies and how close I’d come to losing them. As soon as the door clicked shut behind Dr. Adams, everything hit me all at once. The fear, the heartbreak, the guilt—it all surged up, overwhelming me. My body felt like it couldn’t hold it anymore, and I broke. The sobs started deep and wracked through me as I buried my face in Mom’s shoulder.

“I can’t do this,” I choked out, the words muffled and raw. “I can’t be a mom… not like this.”

Mom held me tighter, her hands stroking my back like she was trying to soothe me the way she had when I was a little girl. “Rose, listen to me,” she said, her voice low but firm. “You can do this. You are doing this. Every moment, every choice—you’ve been fighting for those babies since the beginning. And they’re going to know how much you love them because of that.”

“But Cole…” My voice cracked, and I shook my head against her shoulder. “He hates me now. I saw it in his face.”

Mom eased back just enough to look at me, her hands still framing my face. “Cole doesn’t hate you, sweetheart. He’s inshock. He just needs time. And as for everyone else?” She glanced toward the curtain that shielded our small corner of the ER. “Let them talk. None of it matters right now. The only things that matter are you and those babies.”

I wanted to believe her, but the image of Cole’s face—stunned, hurt, confused—was burned into my mind. “I should’ve told him,” I whispered. “I should’ve told him months ago.”

“You can’t change that now,” Mom said gently. “What you can do is focus on yourself and these babies. That’s all that matters.”

Before I could say more, the curtain shifted, and Kiki stepped back inside. Her face was calm, but I saw the worry in her eyes as she approached. “Hey,” she said softly. She crouched down so we were eye to eye. “You okay? Well, I mean, as okay as you can be?”

I sniffled and swiped at my tear-streaked face. “Not really.”

Kiki nodded like she’d expected that. “I get it. But listen, you’re stronger than you think, Rose. You’ve got this.” She paused, her gaze flickering to Mom. “I checked in with the nurse. They’re moving fast to get the OR prepped, but they’ll come grab you soon. I figured you’d want to know.”

I swallowed hard, the reality of it settling heavier on my chest. “I’m scared,” I admitted.

“I know you are,” Kiki said, her voice steady and calm. “But you’re not alone, okay? Your mom’s here, and I’m here. We’re not going anywhere.”

The lump in my throat grew, and I pressed my hand to my belly, feeling the subtle shift of the twins moving. For a brief second, everything went still. I felt the tiny lives inside me, so fragile but so real, and I knew I’d do whatever it took to keep them safe.

“I just… I want them to be okay,” I whispered, my voice breaking again.

“They will be,” Kiki said firmly. “And so will you.”

The curtain swayed open again, and a nurse peeked in, clipboard in hand. “We’re ready for you, Ms. Williams,” she said gently. “We’ll take good care of you.”

My heart clenched, and my grip on Mom’s hand tightened. She squeezed back, her face calm but her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart,” Mom said. “You’re stronger than you know.”

I nodded, even though my legs felt like they were made of lead. When they started wheeling me toward the OR, I glanced back at Mom and Kiki, their reassuring faces the last thing I saw before the curtain closed behind me. My fear hadn’t vanished, but Mom's love steadied me, and I clung to that as I was rolled into the sterile, bright light of the operating room.

31

COLE

Iwent straight to the family waiting area just outside the emergency department and locked myself in and paced. I'd been reactionary with Rose when I should've taken a moment to recognize that she was under duress. Several deep breaths helped me start to calm down, but nothing had prepared me for seeing her there struggling.

Twenty-four weeks pregnant? That meant she had been carrying her secret for more than half her pregnancy all alone while I acted like a fool. I was so stuck in my own world, wrapped up in drama and frustration, half-drunk all the time, and ignorant of anything and anyone else around me. I noticed she'd gained a little weight, but I thought it was because of stress too. I never even stopped to really notice her.

And we hadn't had sex in at least seven weeks. When we did, I thought I noticed changes to her body, but she said nothing, and I just wanted to forget everything to be with her. Now all those clues were falling into place. She was more tired. She'd been sick off and on. She refused drinks with me, which at the time I thought was just her wanting to maintain composure to care forme, but even that was me being selfish. I never stopped to ask her.

And twins? Holy shit.

I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head. Then I walked to the wall and pressed my forehead to it, splaying my arms on either side of me parallel to my body. My hands were fists, my shoulders tense.

Rose carried this secret on her own for at least four months, all because I was being a total jerk. I should have been there for her and taken care of her, and the entire time, she was cooking and cleaning for me and probably struggling emotionally to cope with things. I was so angry with myself.

Her words rang out in my memory. "Be the man you should be." It was exactly what I should be doing. I'd spent the past six months being haunted by things that in the grand scheme meant nothing. A job was just a job, and losing it—while it would hurt—meant nothing if the people around me whom I cared about were hurting. I was an idiot for placing more importance on whether I could perform surgery again than Rose. She deserved better.

She deserved the man she desired. A man who would go to bat for her, care for her, listen to her, and make sure she was safe and healthy. I had neglected it all thinking she was there for me, and in doing so, I was using her, taking her for granted.

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