Page 155 of Duke
“Is there such a thing as too many helping hands? Because I think we might have that problem.”
“Definitely not a problem when you’ve got two newborns. Kudos to your mom for doing this with three other kids in the house.”
My heart twists. I really wish Mom and Dad were here. Not only would they love up on our babies, but I’m sure they would have some good advice for us. We’ve got plenty of help lined up, but it’d still be nice to get some wisdom on raising twins from people who’ve done it.
“She and Dad were rock stars, no question.”
Wheeler’s voice is soft when she replies, “You’re a rock star too, you know. Have been from the moment we met.”
My throat swells. I adjust my hand on the steering wheel, resisting the urge to honk at a guy who hits the gas through a yellow light instead of stopping. “I mean, I did impregnate you not once but twice in one night.”
This time, she full out laughs. “That’s not how it works.”
“Still gotta give my sperm some credit.”
“It did its job.”
On cue, our daughter lets out a wail.
“Aw, honey, we’ll be home soon,” I say, looking up into the rearview mirror again.
Wheeler has her hands inside the baby’s car seat, a sated smile on her face. “You’re cute when you coo.”
“You talking to me?”
“Pretty sure our babies can’t coo yet.”
“Isn’t ‘coo’ kind of a weird word?”
“When you say it this much, yes.” Wheeler’s laughing, and I’m hit by a surge of deep, almost painful gratitude.
This woman brought two babies earthside earlier this week after a difficult pregnancy. We’ve been through some shit—how unexpected this all was, her family’s disapproval—but we’ve still managed to laugh together through it all.
Wheeler was right. We really are friends. Best friends. And turns out doing life with your best friend by your side provides exactly the kind of freedom I’ve been looking for. This is life on my terms.Ourterms. I’m able to be who I am and do what feels right because Wheeler and I value the same things.
Our relationship isn’t perfect. We had a messy start. And I imagine life’s about to get messy in a whole new way with two babies in the house. We’ve talked plenty about where we’re going to take the kids as they get older—the beach, Aspen, California—but it’s going to be a while before we travel again.
It will happen, though. And once we get over the hump of the babies being too tiny or difficult to go places, we’re going to have travel buddies for the rest of our lives.
I’m going to have Wheeler as the best travel buddy ever too. The connection we have is real and honest, and that makes me think we can find our way through any mess as long as we have each other.
We decided that we wanted to get settled at the cottage before everyone came over to see the babies, so I’m not surprised to see that the driveway is empty when I pull up a few minutes later.
I am surprised, however, to see a pair of signs shaped like storks in our front yard. One is blue and printed with our son’s name. The other is pink and printed with our daughter’s. Abunch of balloons in pink and blue are tied to the porch, and there’s a big bow taped to our front door.
“Aw,” Wheeler says thickly. “How cute is that? Had to be Mollie, right?”
I groan, even as my eyes smart. “And Cash. And Sally and Wyatt, come to think of it. And you gotta know Sawyer and Ava and the girls had a hand in the balloons and bow.”
“I love it.”
“I love you.” I cut the ignition. “Ready to start life as a family of four?”
In the mirror, I see Wheeler nod, a huge smile splitting her face. “I’m ready.”
Jumping out of the truck, I’m careful to close the door quietly behind me. I’ve been practicing taking the car seats in and out of the truck for weeks now, just in case Wheeler went into labor early, so I make quick work of lifting our son’s car seat out of the back. I hold out my hand to Wheeler, and she gingerly climbs out of the truck.
“Almost time for another dose of ibuprofen.” I give her hand a squeeze.
