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He laughs, watching me struggle. He lifts his other shoe off and hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I say.
“I can’t believe you still have another month left. I don’t know how you are going to manage walking much longer.”
I give him a dirty look. “You’re not helping. I’m going to leave you to figure out how to tie your own damn shoes if you comment one more time about looking like I’m ready to pop.”
He chuckles, but I’m not really upset even though I give him a dirty look. He of all people is allowed to make fun of the size of my belly. He gave an arm to make sure I’m still here.
“Anyway, back to shoe tying. I did some research and figured out how to tie a shoe with one hand. First, you cross the laces; then you use your foot to hold tension on one of the laces while your hand makes a loop with the other. Then you push that loop under the other lace. Let go of that lace with your foot. Use your fingers to wrap the lace around the loop and push it through with your thumb.” I demonstrate on my lap, pretending my second hand is my foot since I can’t bend over right now. I mess up three times before I finally get it right.
“Can’t I just get elastic or velcro? I think that would be easier.”
I laugh. “You can, but then you are guaranteeing to never date again.”
“Fine,” he rolls his eyes and takes the shoe from me. He ties it easily in one try.
“See! You're a fast learner!”
“What’s next? Learning how to write my name? Type one-handed?” Beckett jokes.
“How about shooting a gun?” Enzo says from the doorway. “I think it’s time you prove you are a better shot and stronger than me.” Enzo winks at me as he crosses his arms and taunts Beckett with a challenge.
Beckett stands, “You’re on.”
We all head out to the top deck of the yacht. There is no one around for miles. We are currently floating several miles off the coast of Hawaii. We should be further away from land, but I think both of the boys are worried I might go into labor at any second and they will need to fly a doctor out quickly, so we don’t stray too far from land.
“How about a competition to make this more interesting?” Enzo asks, knowing Beckett is tired of us both babying him. For the first week, we kept him in bed, brought him food, and hand-fed him. The second week we allowed him out of bed, but he was weak and needed help with everything from bathing to getting dressed. And even now, the simplest of things are tricky. He was right-handed. He didn’t just lose an arm; he lost the arm he was used to doing everything with.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Best of five different games?”
“And what does the winner get?”
“If I win, you have to tell everyone I’m better than you,” Enzo says.
“Fine, but if I win, I get to name one of your children.”
Enzo looks at me as if asking permission for this arrangement to happen. I have complete faith Enzo will win. And even if he doesn’t, I have no problem with Beckett naming one of our children. Enzo and I have already been trying to figure out how to honor all those that have sacrificed everything for us. And Beckett definitely makes that list.
“Deal,” Enzo says.
The two shake hands. Enzo is getting better at remembering to extend his left hand when giving him a handshake or hug.
“So how are we going to make the competition fair?” Beckett asks.
Enzo turns to me. “Kai will decide each round and how you win.”
Beckett rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m going to lose.”
I laugh. “I don’t know. Enzo cut me off from drinking any caffeine and from eating sugar, or anything bad at all. So I’m not very happy with him at the moment.”
“Well, I will happily sneak you a coffee and a donut if you help me win,” Beckett says, winking at me.
“Hey, none of that. Those are my babies too, and I want them happy and healthy, not addicted to sugar,” Enzo says.
Beckett and I both roll our eyes. But I do secretly love how protective Enzo is of our children and how much he wants them to be healthy. I truly have no desire to eat or drink anything bad anymore.
