Chapter 25 Penises,If You Will, Penii Cara #4
And when she hears that cry? The first one that pierces the air, breathes new life into the entire room? Her eyes fall shut, her chest deflates, and her body shakes as she sobs with relief.
“Auntie,” one of the nurses calls, and when I look up, she’s holding a perfect, tiny, wrinkly baby out to me.
My head whips back and forth between the nurse and Olivia. “M-me?”
Olivia smiles. “You.”
“Are you—”
“Sure. I’m sure, Cara.”
I step closer, fingers curling into my palms as my heart thuds a wild beat.
Tears gather in my eyes as I take the newest Beckett carefully into my arms, and I swear my entire world spins to a stop.
Never in my life have I been trusted with something so tiny, so fresh and new, so fucking precious, and that knowledge… it pushes me over the edge.
“Holy fuck,” I weep, sweeping the edge of my finger over soft, plump cheeks, brushing back thick, dark curls. “You are your mama’s twin.”
The youngest Beckett enters the world a moment later with a single cry of protest, like this whole “early birth” thing has been entirely inconvenient.
“Oh man,” I chuckle, grinning down as the second is slid into my full arms. “We are never, ever gonna hear the end of this from your daddy, are we? No, we’re most definitely not. But let’s go meet your mama, huh? Let’s go meet the most special, beautiful person in your world.”
I inch up the side of the bed at the literal pace of a snail, tears streaming down my cheeks with no sign of stopping. I can’t stop grinning, but neither can Olivia, staring up at us with so much love it’s truly staggering.
“Congratulations, Mama,” I whisper. “Two perfect boys.”
CARTER ARRIVES AN HOUR LATER, skidding into the room, eyes bloodshot and wild.
He deflates the moment he finds Olivia, passed out in bed, one hand on the bassinet that houses their sleeping twins.
His gaze lingers on them so long, jaw flexing, shoulders rolling, like he’s releasing years of tension.
That stare coasts to me next, and the utter appreciation that shines in it brings warmth to my cheeks.
“Congratulations, Dada,” I murmur, smiling up at him from where my chin rests on the other side of the bassinet, the older of the Beckett twins gripping my finger as he sleeps. “They’re perfect.”
Carter’s bag thuds to the floor, and he rounds the bed, hauling me to my feet and into his suffocating hold. He pulls back, hands on either side of my face, emerald eyes shining with tears. “Thank you, Cara. Thank you.”
Then, he releases me. Kneels at his wife’s bed. Takes her hand between both of his, presses it to his chest as she stirs, and he cries.
Grabbing my things, I give them their privacy as I wander the hospital, grab a bite to eat, and eventually pass out in one of the waiting rooms. I’m not sure what time it is when I’m woken by footsteps, a soft voice whispering a quiet greeting, but when a deep, all-too-familiar voice returns that greeting, I rocket up in my seat, nearly hammering the owner of that voice in the nose with my head.
“Emmett.” I scramble to my knees, launching myself into his arms. “Emmett, you should’ve… you should’ve… I—I—I… it was incredible!”
He chuckles, a soft, low sound that warms my insides, and grabs my shaking hands in his.
“You were amazing, according to Carter and Ollie.” He tucks my messy hair behind my ears, inclining his head toward the door, where the midwife waits with a smile.
“They want us to be the first to officially meet them.”
I’m off the chair before he finishes the sentence, yanking him to his feet.
Their room is dark and quiet, the soft lights on either side of the bed giving the space a peaceful glow. I go to Olivia first, crushing her face against mine as we cling to each other.
“You saw my insides,” she whispers.
“I saw your insides,” I confirm.
“Was it gross?”
“Beautiful. Also, gross.”
Olivia snickers, tangling her fingers with mine as she looks at me.
Tears build between us as years of memories swirl, and Olivia rests her forehead against mine.
“There are so many things I’m grateful for, but at the end of the day, what I wish everybody had in life is their own Cara.
I am who I am because you are who you are, and because you love the way you love. Thank you, Cara.”
When I’m emotionally stable enough to hold a baby—just kidding, I’ll never be emotionally stable again after that—I make my way to the chairs below the dark window, Emmett’s hand low on my back as he follows, and we sit together.
Carter looks every bit as exhausted as you’d expect, but there’s a spark in his eyes and that smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth that tells me how alive he feels. That, and he’s decked out in his DILF gear.
“Oh! That reminds me.” Emmett reaches into his bag, producing a small gift bag. “Just something small the guys and I put together for you.”
Carter opens the bag, pulling out the clothes inside. A T-shirt each for Carter and Olivia, TROUBLEMAKER scrawled across them, a mini T-shirt perfectly sized for an almost-two-year-old princess, and two teensy onesies, the three of them with the same word: TROUBLE.
Carter drops the shirts across his hips, eyes watering. “Thanks, man. This… this means a lot. You have no idea.”
Olivia rolls her eyes, and I swallow my snort.
“Hey, don’t you guys have that family photoshoot planned in March?” Emmett waggles his brows, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Carter gasps. “Ollie! You said you wanted matching outfits. This is perfect!”
“Yes,” she mutters. “So perfect. I’ll have to give you a proper thank-you once I’m back on my feet, Emmett.”
Emmett’s smile drops. He leans closer to me. “Baby… Ollie just threatened me.”
“You knew what you were doing.” I shake my fists excitedly as Carter effortlessly scoops up the twins, one cradled in each arm.
“Been practicing this little move with sacks of flour for three months. Pretty sweet, huh? I’ve got another trick up my sleeve, but Ollie says—”
“Ollie says the babies are almost four weeks premature and barely five pounds,” Olivia says sternly. “And that Daddy needs to wait much, much longer before he starts showing off all his tricks.”
“Yeah, that.” Carter sighs, stopping in front of us. “You guys remember how to hold a baby? Ireland’s indestructible now, so she doesn’t count.”
My eyes narrow. “Carter, I held both of them, at the same time, when they were a minute old and covered in slime.”
“Okay, well, now they’re slime-free, so be sure to adjust for that.”
I roll my eyes, but grip Emmett’s bicep as Carter slides one of his sons into his arms. There is something about big, strong men holding teensy babies that I will simply never, ever get over.
“Hey, little buddy,” Emmett whispers, stroking his face, and I know without a doubt that it’s the younger twin, because in addition to their daddy’s dimples, which both of them have in their cheeks, this one also has his daddy’s dimple in his tiny chin.
“I’m your uncle Emmett. I love you so much already. ”
Carter smiles. “This is Brodie.”
Emmett stills. He looks up at Carter, Olivia. Tears well in his eyes. “Brodie?”
“Uh-huh. Named after someone special.”
“Oh, fuck.” I flap at my eyes. “How dare you guys? How dare you? I am not emotionally stable enough for you to name a baby after Emmett.”
Carter grins. “Oh, then this is really gonna wreck you.” He slips the older twin into my arms, and every noise in my head quiets as I stare down at the sweet face I held hours ago. As those teensy tiny fingers wrap around one of mine, I swear everyone can hear the way my heart thunders in my chest.
But then Carter says, “You already know her, buddy, but officially, we want you to meet your auntie Cara. Auntie Cara, meet Hunter.”
And I don’t know what it is about those words, about the fact that my best friends named one of their children after me.
I can’t explain what that does to me, the pride it sends surging through me, the way it silences every damn voice in my head that wants me to second-guess everything about myself, and replaces it with two words.
Two words on repeat. A gentle reminder, a firm truth.
You’re enough.
I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT is, but when we’re lying in bed two hours later, the rest of the world fast asleep, my mind at peace for the first time in so long, my heart beats a steady, powerful beat, reminding me that my strength isn’t a measure of how badly I’ve been hurt, or whether I keep trying, but rather how I keep on loving in spite of those things.
That this heart can be bruised and broken and still be as beautiful as it was before this. That it still has a world to offer.
And for the first time in too long, I believe it.
“Emmett?” I whisper into the dark, his heart humming quietly below my ear.
“Firefly.”
“I’d like to talk about fostering Abel.”