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I walk into the living room and drop my bag on the floor.
I clap my hands, earning their attention.
“Mommy!”
The twins jump up from their position on the floor and run to hug me. Tasha is not far behind as she hugs my legs.
“Calm down babies. Mommy is home. I'm not going anywhere.” They don't stop embracing me.
I lift Tasha up in my arms, earning a bright smile from her. “Did you miss Mommy that much?”
She nods and buries her face in my neck. “Yes.”
“Okay, I'm here now. And if you guys want your goodies, you will have to let me go, okay?”
“Okay,” the twins echo and turn to each other, frowning.
“You are copying me,” Bella complains and slaps Damien.
Damien pouts, eyes teary. “Mommy, she slapped me.”
I'm back to the chaos. I place a reluctant Tasha on the ground and hold Bella by the hand.
“Bella, how many times have I told you to stop hitting your brother?”
“He copied me!” she whines, stomping her legs.
“You are twins. Of course you will be in sync. Plus, that doesn't mean you can slap him. How would you feel if he had done the same to you?” She pouts, looking sorry. “Now apologize to your brother.”
“I'm sorry,” she wipes his tears, and he embraces her.
“It's okay. Let's not fight anymore.” I melt at the scene.
“Babe? You are back?” I hear my husband's surprised voice and look up to see him donning an apron over his pajamas. The apron is smeared with white powder. He holds the baby formula in his hand gaping at me.
“You said you were coming back tomorrow,” he says, still shocked.
I smirk and stand. “You are not the only one who is good at surprises.”
He was still standing with his mouth slightly parted. He looks so tired that he hasn't had a good night's sleep in days.
Surely, taking care of four kids for a week is starting to take a toll on him. “You don't look too happy to see me,” I muse.
He waves Bella over and hands her the baby formula. “Go and feed Sam.”
He straightens up and sweeps the powder on his apron. He walks to me. “You don't know how relieved I am to see you.”
Even after so many years, my heart still flutters anytime he's near. “They must have been a handful,” I whisper conspiratorially.
He shakes his head, smiling. “You can't imagine.”
“Thanks for doing this for me.” After a top client had chosen me to fly over to London to help plan a commercial building for a week, Chris took time off work to stay back with the kids.
He had insisted on taking care of his kids himself. He has always been a hands-on dad, but this time, he exceeded all my expectations.
“Don't thank me for performing my responsibility.”
“Not all men do this or are aware of their responsibilities.”
