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He didn’t lie. In less than a minute, I felt the car slowing down and Tyrone pulling over. Carefully, the twins led me out of the car. I put a hand over my belly, afraid I’d trip. I was told to expect them early, despite only being due a month later. I didn’t want anything to happen to my babies before then—that’s right, babies. Apparently, I was having twins. My stomach had swelled up to the size of a giant air bag, and unsightly stretch marks had begun to form on them. It didn’t matter, much, as long as it was for the sake of my kids.
I already had a pair of twins to deal with. Another pair was going to be a huge headache.
We kept their gender a mystery, leaving the surprise for later. I really wanted girls. There was enough testosterone in our family.
“We’re here,” Riley said as he took off my blindfold.
I looked around, confused. They had led me to the middle of a plaza, with a long row of shops. There wasn’t anything special around the area, although the shop we were standing in front of looked really nice. It was a closed bakery, with a blank sign at the top.
I frowned. “Why are we here?”
Ryan gestured to the shop. “So we can present this to you.”
Numbed, and in slight disbelief, I stood in front of the shop, my mouth gaping open. I didn’t think I’d ever own a bakery of my own. I’d given up on that dream long ago, thinking it was unpractical. After marrying the twins and getting pregnant, I figured most of my adult life would be spent taking care of our kids and helping them out at the office. Many women would find that lifestyle comfortable, and even a blessing, but to me, it seemed boring, but something I had to resign my fate to for the sake of family.
And here I was, contrary to what I expected, standing in front of my very own bakery. “Wow.”
Riley wrapped his fingers around mine. “I want to show you the inside. Come with us.”
I padded closely behind him until we reached the front door. It wasn’t anything grand or superfluous. An ordinary, but well-decorated shop. I’d expect them to gift something exorbitant, as they tended to, so I asked, “Why not something at a famous hotel, or the like?” Not that I wanted them to spoil me—I liked the small shop. I could work my way up from it. If my bakery got successful, it’d feel like I worked for it myself. I hated knowing I owed most of everything to Ryan and Riley, although that was the honest truth.
Ryan winked. “Because we know you wouldn’t like it. What fun would it be if everything was handed to you on a plate?”
They were starting to know me too well. I smiled. “No fun at all.” I slid the keys in and turned the knob.
The place had a dusty, just-renovated smell. Pretty soon, I’d fill it up with the scent of flour, butter, and icing. The interior had a quaint, cottage feeling, with wicker chairs and round, glass tables. Portraits of candy and flowers lined the walls. The display counter was still empty. I could think of a million things to fill it up with. It’d be a heck load of work: planning the menu, coming up with marketing schemes, budgeting, hiring staff, etcetera… How in the world was I supposed to do this while taking care of twin babies?
Good things never come easy. I’d work hard, take care of my kids, and run a successful business, using my ambition as fuel. “I love it,” I said, bursting with excitement and happiness. The shock had subsided, leaving joy in its place. “Thank you so f**king much!” I hugged my arms around my twins and kissed both of them. “What would I do without the two of you. Oh, hell, I’ve always wanted something like this. Dreamed about it my whole life.”
Ryan grinned. “We knew you’d like it. Wait till you see the kitchen. It’s all the latest technology.”
They gave me a short tour around the place—it barely took ten minutes. They mentioned buying the largest place in the plaza, but it still wasn’t as big as they wanted it to be. They didn’t know how the equipment worked, saying they left it all to the specialist. I wasn’t surprised. Just a few months back, I learned Ryan and Riley didn’t know how to turn on a stove, perfectly fitting the spoiled-rich-kid image. When I questioned how they cooked for themselves when their helpers weren’t around, they told me they had a special service that sent high-quality, expensive foods to their doorsteps.
We ordered it once, because I wanted to try—the food did taste delicious.
I looked down at my wedding band. The wedding went off perfectly, without a single hitch—unless I counted Kristie getting drunk and puking next to my dress, that is. But I didn’t find it that big of a deal. Married life had been smooth-sailing since. We had our little quibbles, and I found out the twins could be quite disgusting sometimes, which was only human. But other than that, everything turned out great.
