Page 51 of The Final Faceoff
Papa speaks first, “We knew from the beginning, Leif.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, but that’s what you’re supposed to say.”
Dad huffs, shaking his head. “No, what we’re supposed to say is that we had it all figured out, that we were ready and completely confident. But that would be a lie.”
I frown. “So you weren’t ready?”
Papa snorts. “No one is ever ready to have a child—or six. We were overwhelmed with the twins, but we knew we wanted a big family.”
Dad leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “We planned for years. We had meetings. We read books. We took every possible class. We wanted you and your siblings before we ever knew you existed. The moment the eggs were ready, we already loved you. It was just a matter of when and . . .”
Papa nods. “But wanting something and feeling it happen are different. It’s the latter what you want to know, isn’t it?”
I nod. “So when did it feel real?”
Papa exhales, tipping his head like he’s reaching back for the memory. “For me? The first time I saw you in the sonogram. That grainy little blob. But being deeply in love happened during the delivery. You were small, wrinkled, making this angry little noise like you were already fed up with the way they squeezed you.” He grins at the thought. “The doctor handed you to me and that was it. You were mine.”
I swallow. “That’s it?”
Papa chuckles. “You say that like it’s not a big moment.” Then he shrugs. “It wasn’t a decision. It wasn’t something I had to think about. You existed, and that was enough.”
I glance at Dad. “What about you?”
His expression softens. “When I held you for the first time. Your Papa placed you in my arms, and you looked at me like you were already suspicious of my abilities.”
“That checks out. Hockey players are better.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know what I expected to feel, but what I did feel was . . . ‘Oh. Here you are, we were expecting you.’”
The words settle in my chest in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
I look down at my coffee, tracing the rim of the cup with my thumb. “You never worried it wouldn’t feel real?”
“Never,” Papa states.
Dad shakes his head. “Leif, it’s not a switch you flip. It’s not one moment. It’s every moment.”
Papa nods. “Somewhere between the late-night feedings and the first time you got sick and the million tiny things we had to do to keep you alive, we weren’t thinking about when it felt real. We were too busy being your parents. Loving you.”
I nod, absorbing that, letting it take up space in my brain where the uncertainty used to be.
Dad tilts his head. “Why are you asking?”
I hesitate.
They both see it.
They both wait.
I sigh. “Hailey’s pregnant.”
The silence that follows is loud.
Dad blinks. “Hailey?”
Papa raises a brow. “You meanyourHailey?”
“Yes.”
