Page 102 of Twins for the Off-Limits Lawyer

Love wasn't about acquisition or control.

It was about building something together, piece by piece, choice by choice, until you looked around and realized you'd created something beautiful.

Something worth everything you'd given up to find it.

CHAPTER 24

Lili

"Edward Grosvenor, if you don't quit wearing a hole in that floor, I swear on my Mama's sweet tea recipe I'm gonna throw something at your perfectly styled head," I panted between contractions, gripping the hospital bed rails like they were the only things keeping me tethered to earth.

My fiancé—still felt like a miracle saying that—froze mid-stride in his designer suit that somehow looked impeccable even after twelve hours in a hospital waiting room.

His gray eyes were wild with the kind of panic that would've been hilarious if I wasn't currently trying to push two tiny humans out of my body.

"Perhaps I should ring Dr. Harrison once more? Surely there must be some development we should be apprised of—" he asked for the fifteenth time in an hour.

"Edward, sugar, the only development is that your children are apparently as stubborn as their daddy," I said, then sucked in a sharp breath as another contraction hit. It felt like someone was trying to turn me inside out with a medieval torture device, but somehow I was supposed to breathe through it like it was a yoga class from hell. "Sweet merciful Jesus on a bicycle."

That's when Victoria chose to make her grand entrance, sweeping into the delivery room like she was arriving at the opera instead of witnessing the birth of her grandchildren.

She took one look at the medical reality of childbirth, made a sound like air escaping from a balloon, and crumpled to the floor in a heap of designer silk and wounded dignity .

"Mother!" Edward rushed to her side while I stared at the ceiling and wondered if this was really my life now – she was supposed to be the only experienced Mother in this very room.

"Well," Dr. Harrison turned up with the sort of unflappable calm that made me understand why royalty trusted her with their most precious moments, "that's a first."

As they wheeled Victoria out to recover from her dramatic introduction to grandMotherhood, I couldn't help but think about how none of this—not the chaos, not the comedy, not the overwhelming love—had been part of Edward's meticulously planned preparation for parenthood.

The past seven months had been a whirlwind of preparation that somehow felt both perfectly planned and completely chaotic.

Edward had thrown himself into nursery design with the same intensity he usually reserved for corporate takeovers, spending every spare moment between merger meetings either shopping for tiny clothes or sketching furniture arrangements.

I'd come home from Jackson's Garden Centers meetings to find him surrounded by fabric swatches and paint samples, his usually pristine study transformed into what looked like a pastel explosion.

"Darling," he'd said one evening, holding up two nearly identical shades of yellow, "do you think 'Buttercup Dream' or'Sunshine Whisper' would be more conducive to infant sleep patterns?"

"Honey," I'd replied, settling onto his lap despite my growing belly making everything awkward, "I think our babies are going to be more concerned with getting fed than with whether their walls are the perfect shade of yellow."

But that was Edward—meticulous, devoted, and absolutely determined to create the perfect environment for our children.

He'd researched cribs like he was preparing for trial, interviewed nannies with the thoroughness of a background check for state secrets, and somehow managed to design a nursery that was both practical and beautiful.

The room he'd created was a masterpiece of buttercream yellows and sage greens, with afternoon sunlight filtering through gauze curtains that made everything look like it was dusted with gold. The carpet was so thick you could lose your toes in it, and everything smelled like lavender sachets and new beginnings—two cribs positioned perfectly to catch the morning light, a rocking chair that had belonged to his grandMother, and shelves lined with books he'd already started reading aloud to my belly during his evening "briefing sessions" with the babies.

"You know they can't actually understand corporate law yet," I'd teased one night, watching him explain the finer points of merger agreements to my stomach.

"It's never too early to begin their education," he'd replied with complete seriousness, then immediately switched to reading "Goodnight Moon" in the same formal tone he used for closing arguments.

Watching him prepare for Fatherhood had been like watching a man discover a part of himself he'd never known existed. Between board meetings and client calls, he'd managed to become an expert on everything from swaddle techniques to the optimal room temperature for newborn sleep.

He was busy, certainly, but there was a lightness to him that hadn't been there before—like he'd finally found something worth all his careful planning.

Now, as I watched him trying to revive his Mother while Dr. Harrison calmly continued her examination, I couldn't help but think that all his preparation might not have accounted for Lady Victoria's theatrical timing.

"Mr. Grosvenor," Dr. Harrison said, her voice cutting through the chaos, "I believe your attention might be better focused on your wife at the moment."

Edward's head snapped up, and I saw the exact moment when everything else faded away except me and what was happening. He was back at my side in an instant, his hand finding mine.

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