“I want to meet these babies already. You know what they say helps?”
I’m already hard, knowing exactly what she’s about to say, but as I take her hand and guide her into our bedroom, I tease her. “Spicy food?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm. Exercise? Yoga?”
“Nope. Sort of. But nope.” She’s laughing as I kiss her cheek, ears, neck, and tug at her skirt.
“You’ll have to tell me the answer, Hattie. I give up.”
“I’ll show you.”
She undoes my belt with one deft movement, bites her lip at me in a way that makes my cock ache every single time, and sits down on our bed. When she lies back, I crawl over her, leaving my pants on the ground, and let her slowly unbutton my shirt and pull it off my shoulders.
I love seeing her body like this. My wife glows like a star at the best of times, but right now, she is divine. What her body is doing is so natural, but it feels like a crazy miracle to me sometimes.
I can hardly wait long enough to pull off her underwear. My cock is so hard for her — always — but she’s so pregnant, I start off with gentle circles around her sensitive clit, bending over and licking her wetness. I alternate between rubbing with my fingers and lapping with my tongue until she’s breathing heavier, and then I kiss my way up her body and slide my cock inside. I’m deep inside her, slowly rocking in and out as she groans and bucks her hips against me. She is so ready and so desperate for me ever since she got pregnant. I’m almost going to miss this.
We fuck gentle and slow, the sunlight spilling in through the curtains, and she comes hard and trembling against my cock — once, and then twice. By the third time, I’m right there with her. My girl has been so horny for nine months now, but I’m still not over the incredible squeezing feeling of her multiple orgasms.
When she’s had enough of me inside her, I pull out and kiss her all over, breathing her in and wondering how I became this lucky. Then she sits up straight and her eyes widen. “Holt,” she says. “I feel… something.”
I’m already on my feet, tugging my pants back on. “What?” I ask, panicking already. “What?”
“Something.” She gets to her feet too, walks up and down a bit. Then she turns to me. “No, I’m fine.” She laughs, shaking her head at herself. “I’m just—”
We both jump as her water breaks, hitting the wood floor.
“Holy shit,” I say. “Your—”
“Start the truck,” she interrupts, calm as anything. “Grab the bags on the way.”
I’m about to bounce around, rambling, freaking out, arguing with myself over the best things to do and the best order to do them in, but Hattie is calm, breathing deeply, and she’s already given the orders. All I have to do is what I’m told, and I’m incredibly thankful for her in this moment. She is the most amazing person I’ve ever known. The strongest and the sweetest at the same time.
I grab the bags, start the truck, then get out and let her in. She leans back and concentrates on breathing, and I keep the calmest smile I can fixed to my face. Inside, I’m freaking out. Are we really ready? Have I finished painting their room? Is everything—
“Dammit,” I say, slapping the side of the steering wheel. She looks over at me, silent, curious. “I didn’t stain the cribs. You beat me.”
The seriousness on her face cracks and falls away, and Hattie lets out a laugh that makes me love her, if possible, even more.
Hattie’s father has tears in his eyes as he holds one of his three brand-new grandsons, and I’ll be damned if I don’t feel like I might join him.
We named them Max, Matt, and Oliver. Three perfect babies, no health complications, and one for each of us to hold. I’m staring down at tiny Max’s ten fingers and ten toes, unable to comprehend how perfect he is. Unable to deal with the fact that my wife made three little people inside her body. I thought I understood life before this, but I know now that I didn’t quite get it. Now, I do.
I swap babies with Hattie after a minute, and she’s sniffling, waggling her fingers at Max while I smell Ollie’s head. This is perfection. This is my life now. And I couldn’t be happier.
Epilogue 2
Hattie
Ten years later…
Holt’s hand is warm in mine as we stroll along the very same trail where he met my father. I can’t believe it was ten years ago. Our relationship feels as fresh and new as it did right when it began.
Behind us, our three boys hop around, chatting among themselves and pointing out stuff along the side of the path. Holt has made it clear to them not to wander off, telling them over and over again the story of how Grandpa went tumbling down the side.