Page 169 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

About the way he announced, “You’re staying.”

About sanding feelings smooth.

I press my palms to my eyes.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Wayne

I’ve handled worse news with steadier hands.

Doesn’t feel that way.

June’s door has been closed for an hour. I’ve walked past it three times. Haven’t knocked.

Not because I don’t care—I do.

Pregnant.

The word won’t settle. It keeps shifting shape every time I turn it over in my head.

Maybe it’s mine. Maybe it isn’t.

Either way, nothing about this feels small.

I stand in the kitchen and stare at nothing, because I’m not really here. I’m in a hospital hallway that smells of antiseptic and burnt coffee. I’m staring at a doctor’s mouth moving while my ears are ringing so loud I can’t hear the words.

Complications.

Hemorrhage.

We did everything we could.

I remember the weight of Evan in my arms three days later. So small he didn’t feel real. Red-faced and furious at the world, he already knew it had taken something from him.

His mother was supposed to come home.

We were supposed to come home together. That was the plan.

Turns out, plans don’t mean much.

I’ve built my entire life since then around control, prevention, and minimizing risk.

No unnecessary noise. No unstable variables.

Evan gets routine. He lost one parent before he could speak. I will not let him lose another.

That’s the thought that grips hardest.

If this child is mine… am I doing this again? Starting over? Opening the door to the kind of love that can gut you?

And if it’s not mine…?

What does that make me? A man who invited complications into his son’s life. Who let himself want something he can’t define.

June crying in my kitchen. June saying she doesn’t know what she wants. June thinking she’s “too much.”