Page 62 of Daigo

"All right, prepare to be invaded."

Over the next few minutes, he watched as she chatted first with his mother, who had brought an armful of roses and hyacinths, and then with Tammy and her fiancé, who had brought flowers and stuffed toys. The table in the corner of the room was overflowing, the scent overpowering. She had instructed the nurses to take some of the bouquets to the maternity ward and the rest to the NICU. A wheelchair had been wheeled in, and very soon she would get to see their babies. He could not believe how resilient she was. After what she had been through, she was vibrant and bright-eyed. He admired her tremendously.

Her first good look at her babies had her tearing up. She could hold the girls, and by the time they went into the nursery, both of them were awake. But seeing her son strung up with tubes had her heart aching.

"Forget the tubes," the nurse told her briskly. "In a few days, they'll be gone, and he'll be breathing on his own."

"Hard not to notice when they're right there. Is he in pain?"

"Far from it."

"I want to touch him. No." She shook her head when Daigo made to push her in the wheelchair. "I have to try and walk."

She rose, closing her eyes, and had to stand for a second to gain her footing. She had been warned that the incision from her C-section was going to take time to heal, and as soon as the meds wore off, the pain would come. She would bear it, because she wanted to be alert and spend some time with her babies.

"He looks like you, I think." She glanced up at her husband as he came alongside her and placed a supportive arm around her waist.

"The girls look like you. Your nose and the shape of your very stubborn chin."

She looked over at them and felt her heart swelling. "Are they really ours?" she wondered out loud.

"They really are." Bending his head, he kissed the top of hers and felt his emotions veering close to the surface.

Putting her hand through the opening, she touched her son's bare skin.

"Is he cold?" she asked anxiously.

"Far from it," one of the nurses fussing around assured her. "As soon as you're ready, Nurse Parkinson is going to help you with the breastfeeding."

She looked up, puzzled. "I need help with breastfeeding?"

"Sometimes the babies have a tough time latching on. There's a technique."

And she discovered that indeed there was. If the patient Nurse Parkinson, who specialized in this particular activity, hadn't been there to point things out to her, Shelby knew she would have given up in frustration.

Kaya, the firstborn, was a natural and latched on eagerly, suckling as if her tiny life depended on it. But Keira had trouble keeping the nipple inside her little mouth and made her frustration known by wailing indignantly.

"Reminds me of you," her husband whispered in her ear.

"Shut up."

He was there with her inside the room, holding her and supporting her. Most men would have gone home by now, but he remained. His presence helped to keep her from being overwhelmed. It struck her that she didn't have just one or two babies, but three.

From all the things she had read online, she knew the greatest thing was the support of one's spouse. She knew instinctively that she never had to worry about that.

Tilting her head back, she lifted her face, eyes warm with adoration. "I love you."

His eyes darkened, and ignoring the nurses milling around, he kissed her on the lips. "Love you back. She's suckling."

Shifting her head, she stared at her daughter in pleasure. "There you go, baby girl, that's the way. I knew you could do it. Kaya has a mole at the side of her left eye."

"And Keira has a tiny strawberry-shaped birthmark on her stomach," Daigo murmured. "That's how we're going to tell them apart."

"Thank God for small mercies." Lifting a hand, she brushed at the sparse dark hairs on her daughter's tender scalp. "We did it."

Her husband touched the small fist on her breast. "We sure did."

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