I shook my head.
If there was someone on this earth that acquired more attention than Adam when it came to Jacky, it was his uncles and his grandpa.
Mack, who always waited patiently for his daddy to come to him, grinned a big, toothless grin at him, and held out his arms.
Adam came, taking our second-born boy from my arms and pulling him into his chest.
Mack, of course, latched onto the mic at Adam’s shoulder and gave it a good yank.
Adam laughed and disentangled the grabby fingers from the cord and then leaned down and gave me a kiss.
“And did momma get to brush her teeth?” he asked teasingly.
I shook my head. “I haven’t had a chance yet. Mack let me sleep in until right before you got home. I’d literally just gotten him out of his crib when I stopped to look at this picture.”
Adam’s face softened as he turned to look at it, too.
“That day,” he said, telling me, just like he always did, what that day meant to him. “I had no clue how much I needed you. I had no clue that, in a few short days, you would be the air I need to breathe.” He paused. “I owe my old friend Doucet. I would’ve never done it if it wasn’t for him.”
I moved until I could lean my head against his shoulder.
“Since then, you’ve changed my life four more times. The day you told me you loved me. The day that you finally became mine. Then the days that these two boys were born,” he murmured, circling his arm around my waist, his fingers brushing my distended belly. “I can’t wait for number five.”
‘Number five’ was our third ‘oops’ baby. Baby number three would be Irish twins with our Mack. Born within a year of each other.
Though, I wasn’t sure how it worked when Jacky and Mack were Irish twins as well.
What it all boiled down to was the fact that I had no control when it came to Adam.
No control and I wouldn’t have it any other way.