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He does as I request, hopefully snapping a few.
The boys are with our dads, while Quinn holds our daughter. When I look closer, her tiny fingers are wrapped around his index finger. Tears well instantly. Those two are going to be close and I love that for Quinn.
“Did you get a good one?” Noah hands me his phone. I heart every single photo, loving each one for different reasons.
I don’t know if it’s our presence or the fact that Liam senses us staring at him, but he startles and our son whimpers. Cue another wave of tears and emotions. I thought I was emotional during my pregnancy, but this crying shit is for the birds. Hopefully, once my body adjusts the waterworks will slow down.
“Morning,” Noah says to his dad. “Which one do you have?”
“Boy A,” Liam says and then adds, “Who needs a name or I’m going to start calling him Rocketship.”
“You will not,” I say to my uncle. “He’ll have a name today.” I reach back and pat Noah’s hand. We have a list and after I spend some time with my babies, they’ll have names.
Our voices wake Quinn and my dad. Quinn smiles sheepishly when I give him a fun pointed look. He smiles and shrugs.
“She’s my first niece,” he says. “She’ll need me to keep the boys away.”
“Won’t her brothers do that?” I ask him.
“Sure, when they’re older.” Quinn makes no attempt to move our daughter from his chest. “She looks like you and Elle; it’s in my nature to protect her.”
“I appreciate you.”
Now he stands and takes a few steps toward me. I expect him to hand me my daughter, but he holds her tightly to his chest. Quinn leans down. “I’m so damn proud of you,” he says and then kisses me on my forehead.
Liam kicks my dad’s foot. He startles, looks around, smiles, and closes his eyes again. Looking extremely content to stay there with his grandson on his chest.
The nurse comes over and doesn’t say anything about the scene in front of her. She giggles though, which makes me laugh as well.
“Okay, gentlemen, I think mama wants some time with her boys.”
My dad and Liam grumble something unintelligible and stand, and if I had to guess, reluctantly hand the boys over to the nurse. She sets them in their incubator, and then two bare chested, tattooed men block my line of vision. They both lean down and press their lips to my cheeks, each thanking me for making them grandpas.
“Have you decided on what you want to be called?” I ask them.
They look at each other and smile. “I’m going to be grandpa,” my dad says.
“And I’m going with gramps. I like the shortened, much cooler version. And we both know I’m way cooler,” my father-in-law adds.
“Shut the f—” My dad stops himself before dropping the f-bomb in the nursery. “Let’s go round up our wives while we discuss the level of coolness you think you have.” My dad puts his hand on Liam’s shoulder and gives him a slight push. “Quinn.”
“But—” Quinn protests and then sighs. “Here’s your daughter,” he mumbles as he hands her to me. “This isn’t fair.” He reaches for his shirt and then mutters, “Someone has to go back on tour,” in a high-pitched voice meant to sound like Elle.
“I’ll miss you,” I tell him as he kisses my cheek.
“I’ll be here until tomorrow.”
“Okay, we’ll be out in a bit, to tell everyone their names.”
“One better be Quinn,” he says, laughing.
When everyone is gone, the nurse helps me get situated in the chair. “Do you want to do skin-on-skin?” she asks.
“I do, but I want to hold them first,” I tell her.
“This is boy A,” she says as she places my son on my right side. Noah’s there, with our daughter in his arms, looking at us.
“And this is boy B. I’ll give you some time.” She pulls the curtain shut behind her.
