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“I love you.” She puts her hands on my cheeks. “I love you.”
I grin at her, and right before I drag her into the back room, I say three more words I’ve been dying to say, “Welcome home, Sweetheart.”
EPILOGUE ONE
ZARA
Five Months Later
I hear the door slam and look over to the bedside table, seeing it’s only 10:00 a.m. I get up, which feels like you are hiking up a mountain in high heels when you are carrying twins. “Zara!” I hear Gabriel shout my name as I turn the corner to see him standing there in his jeans and T-shirt in the middle of the living room and the kitchen. He takes the cowboy hat off, scratching his head before tossing it onto the island. “Zara,” he calls my name again, this time louder.
“Cowboy,” I pant, “is there a reason you’re hollering my name?”
“I just saw your father at the barn.” He puts his hands on his hips, and I raise my eyebrows. “Is there something you need to tell me?” Since we’ve been on baby watch, my parents have been staying in Sofia’s house, waiting for me to give birth. My father has even gone as far as walking in the morning and going to the barn with Ethan and Jacob too.
“I’m going to need a bit more context than that.” I put my hand on my stomach, which I think can’t get bigger, but then another week goes by, and it gets bigger. I’m almost thirty-seven weeks, which is apparently really good since usually they deliver twins at thirty-six weeks.
“So the babies aren’t going to have my last name?” he almost hisses, and his jaw goes tight, and I see him clenching his teeth. “Is this what you discussed with him?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer him. “I know we haven’t talked about it, but I assumed.”
“You assumed you would barge in here and not even ask me?” I fold my arms over my chest, which sits on my stomach.
“Is it because we aren’t married?” he asks. “Because we could be married.”
“Aw.” I roll my eyes. “That’s very sweet of you. Just what I want to hear when I’m about to have your children. We could be married.” I put my hand to my chest. “That is just so romantic.” The sarcasm runs off my tongue.
“Do you want to do it this afternoon?” he asks me, and I just look at him with a blank stare.
“You do not think I’m going to marry you when I’m as big as a fucking house, Gabriel.” My voice goes louder. “You do not come in here with this attitude when I slept maybe two hours last night because your children think nighttime is a good time to try out for the Olympic gymnastics team.” My voice gets even higher. “You come in here and you don’t even ask me, you get all high and mighty because you spoke with my father.” His eyes go a little lighter. “Who, by the way, likes to fuck with you by pushing your buttons. Case in point.”
“That’s because we aren’t married,” he points out, and I shake my head.
“Are you listening to yourself? I moved here to be with you. I moved here because I am in love with you. In love with Colson. In love with my life here, and the only thing you see is that we aren’t married?” I throw up my hands. “Incredible.” I’m about to say something else when I feel a gush of water, and my eyes go big. When I look down, I see a puddle around my legs under the dress I’m wearing, that looks like a tent. It’s also one of the only things that fit me. “Oh my God!” I shout, looking down at my feet before my eyes fly up to Gabriel, whose eyes look like they are about to pop out of his head.
“Is that your water”—he comes to me, stepping around the puddle—“or did you wet yourself?”
“Gabriel Jacob McIntyre, you are getting on my last damn nerve.” I turn and feel wetness coming down my legs. “I have to get in the shower.”
“Um,” he says, looking at me, “we need to get you to the hospital.” He takes out his phone and two seconds later looks at me. “Bat Signal has been activated.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask him. “You need to do it after my shower. I’m all gross, and we did it this morning, so it’s like all up in there,” I tell him, making my way to the bedroom, but then stop when a pain rips through me, and I put a hand out to hold on to the wall. “Oh, that hurts,” I hiss as I try to control my breathing like they taught me in the class we went to.
His hand rests on my lower back. “Sweetheart.” He looks down at me. “I mean this in the most sincere way, but if you don’t get your ass into the truck, I’m going to put you over my shoulder and do it for you,” he warns, the last little bit in a hiss.
The front door opens, and it sounds like a herd of horses rushing in. “Where are they?” Ethan shouts.
“They should be in the truck already,” my father says. “He’s supposed to be taking care of her.”
“It’s been one minute,” Ethan defends Gabriel as they walk into the house and spot us standing by the wall.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” my father asks. “Why the hell aren’t you in the truck?”
“Your daughter,” Gabriel says with clenched teeth, turning to my father, “apparently needs to shower before going to the hospital.”
“Gabriel,” I hiss his name, who totally ignores me.
“I was giving her a minute before I carried her out,” Gabriel declares. The door opens, and I hear heels. All four of us look over to see Emily and my mother round the corner.
“What is going on?” my mother says, coming toward me. “Why are all of you just standing around doing nothing?” She looks at the men. “What is happening?”
