When I finally let Maddie go, she turns to her mother, who envelops her in an embrace where she almost disappears in the large orc woman's arms. Grace is crying as well and then Lenny joins the group, followed by Jazz. Even Agatha gets up from her chair and walks, aided by her cane, to join the group hug.
Something I would have never, ever dreamed of seeing.
When Agatha turns to me with a raised brow, I join in also. My arms close around that group of people who are more precious to me than all the possessions to my name.
I have it all. I honestly have it all.
My entire chest swells with the kind of happiness that can't be bought, not even in a skyscraper in Dubai.
Epilogue
Maddie
Myhusbandismotheringme like a hen on a psychotic break.
If Demetrius had his way, I would spend the next three months wrapped in bubble wrap, horizontal on a fainting couch,and under the supervision of at least two medical professionals at all times.
He won't have his way. He knows he won't have his way. He does, however, have opinions, and he is not shy about expressing them. Surprise, surprise!
"You should sit now."
"I am fine," I reassure him for at least the third time this hour. "I'm pregnant, not sick. I will sit whenever I feel like it."
"You've been standing for twenty-three minutes," he continues, his face scrunched up with worry. "Doctor said that you should be taking a break every half hour or so."
"Or so," I point out, but allow him to come behind me and place his hands under my stomach. I appreciate the few moments of reprieve when he does this, taking the weight off my spine and cradling me like I'm the baby.
Well, babies. We're having twins. Crazy, I know.
I turn to look at him from across the drawing room of Stronghold, where our entire family has somehow been assembled and is presently making themselves at home with varying degrees of chaos. Jazz is wedged into the good armchair by the window with a glass of sparkling apple juice and an expression of regal satisfaction. Mom and Agatha are in what has become their natural habitat, which is the kitchen, arguing about something that smells like it involves butter. I'm sure Mrs. Fairweather is sick of them invading her space already.
Dad is on the settee with his legs stretched out and his reading glasses on, looking at something on his phone with the unhurried contentment of a man who has nowhere else to be.
Everyone is relaxed and happy.
Everyone except Demetrius and his incessant fussing.
"I'm going to sit down as soon as I'm tired, I promise," I tell him.
"I will hold you to it," he mumbles, his eyes still narrowed at me.
I am not distressed. I'm so happy it should be illegal.
He steers me toward the deep velvet chair closest to the fireplace. The one that has my butt imprint on it already, since Demetrius is always pestering me to sit down.
"Sit," he says. "Please. For me."
The worry in his voice makes me shake my head, but I sit for his benefit and I can't help the chuckle that escapes me when he smiles broadly and turns to retrieve a pillow from somewhere else. He comes back and positions it under my feet on the ottoman with a precision that suggests he has thought about the optimal angle. He steps back, surveys the arrangement, and adjusts the pillow by half an inch.
"I'm going to get you some water," he declares with a self-satisfied nod.
"I have water." I lift my glass.
He looks at my glass. "But that one isn't cold anymore. Mrs. Fairweather made fresh cucumber water, I'll get you that."
I huff in mock-frustration and look at Jazz from across the room, but all she does is raise her own glass in my direction.
"I'm staying out of it," she states. "You're a big girl, you'll handle it."
