Molly hugged her friend. ‘You are so right.’
‘Your mum’s thrilled, by the way.’
Molly looked across the lawn to where her parents and Dad’s new lady stood together, watching the proceedings, as though unsure how welcome they were. ‘I know, and this time when she says she likes my husband I’m going to accept that. We both made mistakes, and I don’t want those to ruin the future. My babies need their grandparents to be there for them like Gran was for me.’
‘Babies? As in plural?’ Nathan had appeared beside her, two glasses of champagne in one hand.
She stretched up on the tips of her beautiful, pointy cream shoes and whispered, ‘Twins.’
He shoved the glasses at Lizzie, reached for Molly and spun her around and up into his arms. ‘Twins,’ he yelled. ‘We’re having two little blighters, not one.’
So much for keeping the pregnancy quiet until they got through the first trimester and well into the second. Clapping and cheeky comments exploded around them, glasses were raised, and finally Molly got one of her own to take, not one or two, but three small sips from before putting it aside. No more for her until the babies were born. ‘My husband, baby one and baby two. I love you all.’
And months later:
Nathan rushed through the Saturday afternoon crowd, elbowing people out of his way. Typical bloody weekend. Everyone was getting out amongst it, and in his way.
The ED had been flat out, dealing with idiots who’d had too much food and alcohol when he’d got the call to go to the maternity unit. Molly had gone into labour at thirty-five weeks. It had been fast, almost too much so, but the babies were in good shape, tiny and absolutely beautiful. Like their mother.
Two teddy bears and one enormous bunch of irises was a lot to protect from these idiots who weren’t looking where they were going, but at last the main entrance to the hospital loomed up in his line of vision. Why the hospital gift shop had to be closed today of all days he didn’t know.
The lift was slow to arrive, and when it came, people surged past him to fill it to capacity. ‘Typical,’ he muttered as he charged up the stairs, reaching the maternity floor out of breath and having to bend over double while his lungs recovered.
Then he was racing down the corridor, out of breath for a different reason. Excitement gripped him, and his face ached as his smile knew no boundaries. ‘I’m a dad, I’m a dad.’ Spinning into Molly’s room, he rushed up to the bed to hug her, forgetting he had his arms full. Slamming on the brakes, he swallowed. Both babies were snuggled against her breasts, eyes closed, cute little pink noses. He couldn’t hug her anyway. ‘I’m married to the most wonderful woman on the planet. Mrs-Beautiful-Molly-Mother-of-Two-Lupton.’
‘Glad you remembered.’ Molly laughed tiredly. ‘Want to hold someone?’
‘Yes, you.’ He placed the teddies on the only chair and held out the flowers. ‘I bought every last Dutch iris in the shop.’
‘Did you get some vases? There’s only one jar in here.’ She was grinning at him now, sending his stomach into a riot of longing and happiness.
Damn, he loved this woman so much. His son and daughter were a bonus. It was Molly he woke up for every day. ‘I love you, Molly Lupton.’
She nodded. ‘I know. Love you back. Now, about names.’
That was an ongoing debate. Hopefully they’d have it sorted by the time everyone went home. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
‘Joshua and Karina?’
Molly nodded, a look of glee at having won the battle on her face. ‘Joshua and Karina.’
How could he refuse her anything?
* * *
If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Sue MacKay
Taking a Chance on the Single Dad
Redeeming Her Brooding Surgeon
The Italian Surgeon’s Secret Baby
ER Doc’s Forever Gift
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from A Weekend with Her Fake Fiancé by Traci Douglass.
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A Weekend with Her Fake Fiancé
by Traci Douglass
CHAPTER ONE
CERTIFIED NURSE-MIDWIFE Carmen Sanchez swiped the back of her wrist across her forehead, careful to avoid the blood staining her glove. “One more strong push and the baby will be out.” She gave Teena, her twenty-eight-year-old patient, an encouraging smile. “You can do it.”
“I can’t!” Teena panted, her head lolling to one side on the pillows. “I’m too tired.”
Fifteen hours of labor would do that to a person, but there was only one way out of this and it was through. Having Teena’s husband there for moral support would have been ideal, but the poor man was working on a fishing boat somewhere in the Bering Sea right now and couldn’t be reached.
“I know you’re exhausted, Teena,” she said, her Caribbean accent drawing out the name. “But you’ve done such a wonderful job so far. All you need is the strength to push one more time on your next contraction and you’ll have your son in your arms. Don’t you finally want to hold him? After all these long months? Think of your husband’s face when he sees his son.”
Teena bit back a sob and nodded.
“Right.” Carmen used her most authoritative voice. “Then push as hard as you can when I tell you, okay?”
The patient nodded and took a deep breath.
It was Teena’s first pregnancy, and she’d been a difficult case from the outset, with sickle cell anemia complicating matters. Carmen had worked in conjunction with an obstetrician and a hematologist to monitor the patient and provide a safe delivery.
Another contraction hit and time seemed to slow as Teena groaned.
“Go!” Carmen got into position. “That’s it. Good. Good. Push!”
Teena leaned up on her elbows and bore down hard, toes curled and muscles straining. Finally the baby’s head crowned, followed in short order by one shoulder, then two. At last the tiny infant slipped into Carmen’s waiting hands and her patient flopped back onto the bed, exhausted.
Carmen cut the umbilical cord, then handed the baby to a waiting nurse, who wrapped the new arrival in a blanket
and suctioned its tiny mouth and nose. Soon the boy’s wailing filled the room and Teena cried again, this time with relief and joy.
Once the afterbirth was dealt with, Carmen took a moment to enjoy the wonder. Even after years in practice the addition of a new life into the world still amazed her.
She slipped out into the hall, walking over to the desk at the nurses’ station so she could decompress and document the backlog of charts awaiting her.
Before she’d finished with the first one, she was interrupted.
“Just the woman I was looking for.”
Carmen’s heart tripped at the deep male voice, and she glanced up to see Zac Taylor. The zing of attraction she felt was decidedly inconvenient, given he was a paramedic and they saw each other a lot, both in the course of their work and hanging out with mutual friends. Also, they’d spent a steamy night together a few months back, after copious amounts of alcohol at the Anchorage Mercy Hospital holiday staff party, and since then things had been a bit awkward.
Flings weren’t her usual MO. Actually, love—the romantic kind—wasn’t even on her itinerary, so the way her heart continued to flutter whenever he was around, despite her wishes, was beyond annoying.
It wasn’t that she was against hearts and fluff. It was just that she didn’t have time for such nonsense. Not with her mother to care for, in the early stages of dementia. Some days her mother was fine, other days she didn’t recognize her own family. It was heartbreaking, the slow loss of the person who’d been the one constant in her life. Plus, Carmen was saving to put her younger sister through nursing school at the University of Alaska this fall, after she graduated high school. Between her own busy work schedule and her responsibilities at home Carmen was lucky to have time enough to eat and sleep, let alone date.