Chapter 20 #2
She throws her head back and laughs a tad bit maniacally.
“I’m not the one whose carrying them, but I assure you, when I can, I will.”
“And change poopy diapers?” My face must do a thing because her brow arches. “See, you’re no more ready—"
“I just want to say that I wasn’t ready for you when I saw you, and look how that turned out.”
“Yeah, look,” she points to her belly.
“I won’t say I’m thrilled, because that may tip you over, but I will say I wasn’t ready for Lucy, and neither were you, but can you imagine a night without reading her a book? Watching her fall asleep? Listening to her excitement about colors and stuffed animals?”
Her eyes begin to mist over, and I decide fuck it and gently cup the back of her neck and pull her into a hug.
“We’ve got this, Hildy. And I promise I will change as many diapers as you.
You’re not doing this alone; you’re not doing anything alone anymore.
We have a little team, you and me, and there isn’t another woman, or human on this planet that I’d want that with, besides you. ”
She tilts her head up, green eyes shining as the search mine. “I’m going to love you in the most beautiful way, Hildy Sullivan.”
Heart hammering inside my chest at the truth of my admission, I lean in slow, as the first tear slides down her cheek, giving her time to step away, hell, run for the hills if she needs to, but she doesn’t.
My entire life, I’ve known that I am expected to take care of the family’s land, money, heritage, and foundation. I’ve wanted to run from it all for many reasons, but the heaviest is responsibility. This is a moment; one I’ve never experienced. One that I desperately want it all.
Her phone buzzing causes her to jump, and the moment is gone, but not lost.
She stares at the screen for half a second before unlocking it.
“It’s Dr. Kaplan,” she says quietly.
Lucy.
The word doesn’t need to be spoken.
She reads.
Her face shifts. Not panic. Not relief. Something steadier.
“Erin, the social worker just sent them her most current immunization records,” she sighs with relief and says, almost to herself. “She just needs the one DTaP. That’s it. She’s compliant for daycare once she gets it.”
“One shot,” I repeat.
“One,” she nods.
There’s something about that. About how manageable it sounds. About how close it all suddenly is.
Lucy is downstairs with a pediatrician who promised no surprises.
Hildy glances toward the restroom door.
“I need a minute,” she says.
I nod.
She slips inside the bathroom, shuts the door gently.
The lock clicks.
I stand there for a beat, and pull the picture out of my hand and stare at the ultrasound photos in my hand.
Twins.
The fact this doesn’t terrify me, is terrifying all by itself. I’m in so damn deep I’m drowning and give zero fucks about what’s ahead, what I… we will face. I want to celebrate this with dinner, a fucking ring, and cigars in the locker room, but I can’t, not right now anyway.
The bathroom faucet turns on.
Water running.
I imagine her leaning over the sink, hands braced on porcelain, breathing.
I cross the small room and head to the nurses’ station.
“Excuse me,” I say quietly.
She looks up.
“Do you have an extra bandage?”
She raises a brow but hands me an adhesive strip without question. I peel it open and press it onto my upper arm, over nothing. She watches, amused.
“Taking one for the team,” I explain.
She giggles as Hildy appears beside me, looking at my arm. “We can tell her it was shot day for the team, which explains why I’m here.”
“You don’t have to—”
“In too deep not to.” I wink.
“Oh my God, how adorable,” the nurse sighs.
Hildy turns to her, expressionless, or at least trying to be, I can see she’s got a little more green in her eyes, and that does something to me… I like it, but I need to show her she never has to worry.
“Luckiest man on the planet,” I say, smiling at Hildy before turning back to the nurse. “We need to make an appointment.”
The nurse looks at her computer, “Four weeks?”
“Yes,” I say automatically.
“February fourteenth,” she continues. “Nine a.m.”
I glance at Hildy, then back at the nurse.
“Is there anything later in the day?” I ask.
The nurse pauses, fingers hovering over the screen. “There’s a four p.m.”
Hildy turns fully toward me now. “You don’t have to rearrange your schedule.”
“I want to,” I say evenly.
The nurse looks between us, smiling faintly.
“Four p.m. works,” I add.
Hildy hesitates. “Practice—”
“I’ll move it,” I cut in gently. “Or leave early. I can make four.”
The nurse clicks. Prints. Hands over the slip.
“February fourteenth. Four p.m.”
I take the paper before Hildy can. “Thank you.”
When we step out of the office, I take her hand. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
She exhales slowly. “You really want to be at all of them.”
“Yes. Every one that I can.”
She doesn’t argue.
We step into Lucy’s exam room just as Dr. Kaplan appears to be taking her Axel’s heartbeat. I love that she brought him, and yeah, fuck you, Hank, she likes mine better…
Lucy’s legs swing nervously off the paper-covered table.
Hildy brightens her voice. “Look who I found.”
Lucy spots the bandage on my arm instantly. “You got a shot?”
“Team shot day,” I tell her seriously. “Everyone had to get one.”
She studies my face. “Did you cry?”
“No.”
“Did it hurt?”
“A little pinch is all. We need it to stay healthy.”
She nods solemnly, absorbing that.
Dr. Kaplan smiles gently. “Lucy just needs one booster today. The fourth DTaP. Once she gets that, she meets New York preschool requirements.”
“One,” Lucy repeats.
“One,” Hildy confirms, sitting beside her. Lucy slides into Hildy’s lap.
I step close, and Lucy reaches for my hand without looking.
“Ready?” Dr. Kaplan asks softly.
Lucy squeezes tighter.
“One breath,” Hildy whispers.
The needle goes in quickly.
A sharp gasp. A startled cry.
Then it’s over.
“All done,” Dr. Kaplan says.
Lucy blinks through tears. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
She buries her face into Hildy’s shoulder for a few seconds, then pulls back, visibly proud. “I did it.”
“You did,” I say, looking at Dr. Kaplan. “Now, if Lucy brings Axel to school, does he need one, too?”
She smirks and then looks at Lucy, “Is Axel going to be—”
“Yes,” she grins.
With everything done and another visit for Lucy scheduled, we head into the hallway.
“Well,” I say lightly, “since we’re all here and everyone was so brave…”
She eyes me. “What?”
“Dinner,” I say. “Just the three of us. And maybe we look at backpacks for school after.”
Lucy freezes mid-step.
“For school?”
“For school.”
“And shoes,” I add. “School requires running.”
Lucy looks down at her sneakers, “Can they sparkle?”
“If necessary,” I reply.
Hildy watches me carefully as Lucy wedges herself between us again, grabbing both hands.
“I’m brave,” she declares.
“Yes,” Hildy says.
“And I didn’t cry very much.”
“You didn’t,” I agree.
As the automatic doors slide open and cold air hits us, it feels like the sun is shining.