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I lower my eyes to the photograph, tracing the image until another tiny shape comes into focus.

My breath catches. I look from the scan to Emma, searching her face to make sure I’m seeing it right.

She nods before I can ask. “We’re having twins.”

I look back at the photograph, and a laugh escapes before I can hold it in.

Twins. Again.

Babs and Biddy are going to have two little brothers or sisters, and every room in the penthouse is about to get a whole lot busier.

“Those two are going to lose their minds.”

Emma laughs, wiping at her cheeks. “I figured you’d say that.”

I set the ultrasound photographs on the coffee table with more care than I’ve ever handled a piece of paper before, then turn back to her.

She’s watching me with the same uncertainty she carried when I walked through the door, as though she’s still waiting to see if fear will catch up with my smile.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

I take her face in my hands and hold her gaze. “Emma, I’m happier than I ever thought I could be.”

I kiss her, wrapping my arms around her as she melts against me, and all I can think about is the life waiting for us. We already have two incredible little girls, and now two more babies are on the way with the woman I love.

I’m certain that every path that brought me here was worth taking.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Emma

JULY 22ND

I make it eleven minutes into the project meeting before nausea rolls through me hard enough that I have to stop pretending I can ignore it.

Lena is explaining a vendor delay when I push my chair back and excuse myself, keeping my pace controlled until I’m through the conference room door.

The restroom sits at the end of the corridor. By the time I reach it, my stomach has abandoned any interest in cooperating with the rest of my workday. I lock myself inside the nearest stall and barely make it down before breakfast comes back up.

When the worst of it passes, I sit against the partition and close my eyes and wait for my body to decide whether it’s finished punishing me. Morning sickness has become an inaccurate name for whatever this is because mine apparently believes in flexible working hours.

I press my palm against my stomach.

There’s barely any physical change yet, apart from the fact that several skirts have started negotiating aggressively with my waistline, but knowing there are two babies in there has altered the way I move through every day.

“Your mother has a meeting,” I murmur as another wave of nausea threatens. “I’d appreciate a temporary ceasefire.”

A knock sounds against the stall door before I get any response from the people currently reorganizing my digestive system.

“Emma?”

I recognize Lena immediately.

“I’m okay,” I call, pushing myself upright.

“That assessment conflicts with what I just watched happen.”

I unlock the door and step out to find her waiting with a bottle of water. Her expression tells me she has already noticed far more than I wanted anyone at work noticing.