Page 156 of Duke
“You’re sexy when you stay on top of my meds.”
“But sexier when I’m on top of you, right?”
She shakes her head, but she’s still smiling. “Ijusthad your babies. Two of them. Can you give me a minute to recover?”
“Take all the time you need, Blue. Just know I think you’re beautiful.”
Wheeler looks up and holds my gaze. In the thin winter light, her eyes shimmer with something I can only describe as joy. “Even when I look like, well, this?” She motions to her disheveled hair and rumpled pajamas.
Leaning in, I press a tender kiss to her mouth. “Especially when you look like this. You’re a miracle worker. Literally. Now let’s get you comfortable inside, yeah?”
I carry both car seats into the house. A scent hits me—something pretty, fresh. Wheeler is ahead of me, and she draws up short with a gasp.
My stomach plunges into a bucket of ice. “You okay?”
“Duke.” She points to the family room. “Look.”
Turning my head, I see several bouquets of flowers are set out on the mantel, the coffee table, and the console behind the sofa. Each bouquet is topped with a card.
I don’t need to open those cards to know who sent the flowers. It was everyone in Hartsville.
We get the babies settled in their bassinets in the family room, and then I help Wheeler go to the bathroom. It’s currently a two-person job. I’ve gotten pretty damn good at making the “padsicles” Wheeler uses to help with pain and swelling.
She says she’s hungry, so after I get her settled on the couch, I head to the kitchen and open the fridge.
I scoff, my throat closing in.
“What?” Wheeler calls from the family room. “Everything okay in there?”
“Yep. Just—we got a fully stocked fridge.” I mean that quite literally. There’s not an inch to spare inside the fridge or freezer; they’re packed so tightly with all manner of containers and bottles of wine and stacks of yogurt cups that I wonder if I’m going to be able to close the doors.
I grab the Post-it stuck to a foil-covered casserole dish on the refrigerator’s top shelf.Hi Mom & Dad! Feeding two babies is going to make y’all hungry. Here’s my riff on the grilled cheese y’all love so much! XO, Patsy.
A drawing of a unicorn is stuck to a Tupperware dome that appears to contain a cake. I smile, sniffling, when I imagine Ella and Junie helping their parents frost the cake in Sawyer’s kitchen.
“Your family moves fast,” Wheeler says. “I love them.”
Closing the fridge, I rest my forearm on the door and try to gather myself.
Actually, fuck that.
I let myself cry. It feels good.
Being loved this way, cared for this way, feels really fucking good.
Wheeler and I dig into some enchiladas Wyatt made, eating on the couch while staring at our sleeping babies, because—ugh, I truly cannot get enough of them.
“He looks like you,” I say.
Wheeler nods. “She looks like you.”
“Funny how that works.”
We both look up at the knock on the door.
“Don’t hate me,” I blurt.
Wheeler frowns. “Why would I hate you?”
