Page 31 of His Perfect Little Heirs

Breathe…

I inhale and exhale through the pain.

“You remember, Fawn,” Justine says as she steps into the pool to check how dilated I am. I spread my legs for her. “Focus on your toes. When you feel the contractions, think, ‘What are my toes doing?’ Touch them to the bottom of the pool. You’re safe.Grounded.”

I nod, exhaustion already clinging to my muscles.

She smiles. “It’s time to help them. When you next feel one, I want you to push.”

Clay steps into the water in his jeans, and I shuffle around until I am leaning against his firm bare chest. Feeling his steady breaths, I sigh into him.

Better than the ground.

I lock my jaw as a spasm twists along my lower half. Groaning, I push as hard as I can, but I don’t focus on the ground or my toes. Don’t focus on the moon or my breath. I concentrate on Clay Butcher’s heart beating through my spine. The strongest, most powerful tempo in the world. The beat that holds me. That keeps me safe. That helps me push.

The pain is immense, everywhere and isolated at the same time. I push through it all.

My body loosens as baby number one leaves me; relief mixed with dread suddenly trails my groans to whimpers. Fatigued but feverish, I open my arms, waving them, needing her or him straight away. The baby’s crying is lovely, high-pitched, delicate andours.

Our baby.

I want…

The tiny human is pink and bloody and has so much damn hair. Dark hair, like Daddy. The baby is placed in my arms, against my chest, pulling the cord up from between my legs; we are still joined there.

Clay’s hands circle me to cover mine… His hands on mine. Mine on our baby.On our boy.

Him…

A boy…

Luca.

“Time to push again,” Justine says, but I’m not ready. I want to stare longer, map every little wrinkle, each strand of hair. Luca and I need time. She must read my expression, as she insists. “I can feel another little head.”

The nursing assistant gently takes Luca from me, and I bear down on my teeth and push again. Tears spit from my eyes, but not really from the pain, from something entirely ineffable. A feeling so great and consuming and scary, it’s simply ineffable.

I anchor myself on Clay.

He is my ground.

I cry as I push and push, though I want to slow down, but baby number two is being pulled from me, the feel of his legs leaving my body strange and… and…

It’s over.

Now, Luca is placed with care on my left side and another…boy… on my right, tucked against my breasts, and they are both perfectly shaped little boys—little Butcher brothers with pouty lips and full heads of dark hair.

Two hands.

Five fingers each.

Moments pass as I catch my breath. Justine checks me over; my heart rate; my blood pressure are all fine.

Two feet.

Five toes each.

Thankfully, Justine moves ahead of time and the earth slows its spinning for me.

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