AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It took me a solid three months after my C-section to feel like my organs were back in their rightful places. A silvery scar now snaked across my belly, hidden below my bikini-line.
I know some moms had trouble accepting their postpartum bodies, but after countless pep talks from Olivia and Jasmine to cut myself some slack. I had finally grown to regard my new body with fondness. I’d made not one but two fully functioning humans. If I had to go up a size in jeans to do so, then so be it.
Jasmine and Olivia weren’t even the captain of the “Becca’s new body” cheerleading squad. Sebastian told me I was beautiful like it was his job. And even though he’d cut back on his hours at Steele Realty so he could stay home with the twins some afternoons, he still had plenty to do.
The Dover Mall project was a smashing success, thanks, in no small part, to the state-of-the-art food court, including the Dover Gazette’s Best Bakery: The Cookie Cove. Now, Sebastian was working on Dover’s first high-end Wellness spa, and I was looking into buying a second location for The Cookie Cove in Boston.
In addition to being stunningly handsome, my realtor had negotiated a pretty solid deal on a site that used to be a bakery. While the equipment was old and the space would need to be gutted, at least there was already enough space on the walls for new ovens.
I was excited about the prospect of opening up a new store, but part of my heart would always stay with the original Cookie Cove—it was like my first baby. Although, as Sebastian pointed out, I had the whole “mom of multiples” thing down.
I finished pumping and changed into a fresh T-shirt and leggings before brushing my teeth. I tossed the bags of milk into the refrigerator and spun around to see Sebastian attempting to get Ophelia to eat a few scrambled eggs.
We were starting to introduce our babies to solid foods, and while Ralph would eat anything you put in front of him, Ophelia turned out to be a picky eater. It was fascinating to watch their personalities develop.
Ophelia was gregarious and friendly, babbling at every passerby and dog. She had blonde hair and green eyes, along with impossibly chubby cheeks.
Today she sat in her highchair, still wearing fleecy floral print pajamas, arms crossed as Sebastian tried to cram a bit of egg into her closed lips.
“C’mon, Opie, your brother likes it,” Sebastian insisted.
Ralph slapped his hands against the tray of his highchair in agreement. He had dark brown hair and my eyes, but Sebastian’s chin. He was shy, only opening up to a trusted few people.
Whenever we met new people, he preferred to cram his head into my shoulder and refuse to make eye contact. He also wore tiny, yellow rubber glasses. It was adorable.
The morning sickness was worth the sight of a baby wearing glasses.
“Ma ma ma!” Ralph cawed when he saw me, lifting his arms. We were still working on the other syllable. Although Sebastian insisted that his grandfather, Ralph’s namesake, was also a man of few words, maybe it is hereditary.
“Hi, Ralphie!” I cooed. I scooped him up out of his highchair and settled him on my hip, tossing his dirty plate in the sink with my free hand. He tugged on my hair and babbled happily.
Then, I noticed the balloons. Two golden “23” balloons bobbed above the kitchen table.
“Ralphie, did you decorate for my birthday?” I asked. He cooed in agreement. I sat down at the kitchen table, and that’s when I noticed the bagel sandwich with a candle crammed into it and the fresh French Press full of coffee.
“Happy birthday, Becks!” Sebastian called over his shoulder. After a few minutes, he officially gave up and released Ophelia from her highchair. He set her on the floor, and she eagerly scooted over to my chair before gripping the edge.
I pulled her up onto my lap and sniffed her powdery scent. Together, the two of them took to grabbing every spare bit of me they could get their hands on.
Ophelia cooed contentedly as she grabbed a handful of my T-shirt. Sebastian scraped the eggs off the plate and down the garbage disposal. Then, he walked over to the table and kissed me.
“Happy birthday,” he whispered.
“Thank you! Why’d you let me sleep in?”
“It’s what you wanted! Besides, you don’t work until two; you’ll be fine!”
The only thing that kept our lives together was the wall calendar in the kitchen, where we wrote down our work schedules, who had the twins, and when.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Lorraine watched Joey and the twins. While I struggled to comprehend how a woman in her mid-sixties could keep up with three under three, she insisted it kept her young.
Sebastian scooped up the twins and deposited them in the playpen that dominated the kitchen so I could eat my sandwich without someone yanking on my hair.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Of course,” he said. He poured us both a cup of coffee and sat across from me.
We sipped our coffee and chatted about the day while the babies babbled in the background.
