Epilogue
EPILOGUE
WAVERLY
“It hurts!” It really does. It really, really hurts.
“It’s supposed to hurt, baby,” Roman’s hand is white in mine, mainly because I’m squeezing so tight, “You’re having our babies, but you’re almost finished.”
“I need one more big push from you, Waverly.” O ne more. Dr. Carleton said that fifteen minutes ago when I pushed our baby boy out.
“I can’t.” I look at Roman with pleading eyes, begging him to save me from this agony somehow. I’m the one who opted out of an epidural. Who in their right goddamn mind would let me do this? I’m strong and I know I am. But only when it comes to going after what I want in life. When it comes to physical pain? I’m a baby.
“Kensi,” Roman’s voice is calm, his silver eyes summon mine and we lock gazes, “You’re giving us the most beautiful gift. Two babies. The twins you always talked about.”
The doctor interrupts our moment. Asshole. “Waverly, breathe down now so we can get your baby girl out.”
That’s right. A boy and a girl. Our tiny little Irish-Italian babies.
“Ahhhh!” I let out a scream that feels like it was part roar.
“You sounded like a T-Rex.” I know Roman is trying to ease the pain, but read the fucking room , man.
“What is your obsession with dinosaurs?!” He pulls his lips between his teeth. I think I hurt his feelings, but I don’t care because my uterus is in shreds right now. Or so it feels.
The doctor situates himself once more between my legs. “One more. This is it!”
I follow his orders and push; Roman’s knuckles are cracking in my fist a few seconds before I hear a small cry. A pressure is released from my belly. I know the doctor is doing what he has to do down below, but the sound of both of our babies with healthy lungs is more than enough to keep me going.
Two nurses walk over with the babies after a third nurse sets up pillows on both sides of me.
“Have you thought of a name for your baby boy?” the one nurse asks. Roman looks at me and I at him and our gazes simultaneously fall to our little boy. “We decided on the name Maverick Thomas.”
Maverick’s small, pouty lips are ready to eat. His tiny feet are moving in the air so fluidly. New life is absolutely beautiful. I can’t help but cry at these tiny humans who were created out of pure, unconditional love.
“And your baby girl?” The other nurse lays the baby in my one arm, helping her latch to my breast.
I look at our little girl with a full head of thick black hair just like her daddy. Fingers so small, they barely wrap around Roman’s thumb. “Lucy Ann.”
A few moments after both babies latch for the first time, Roman and I have a chance to come down from all the baby-having hustle.
“Aren’t they the cutest babies you’ve ever seen, Rome?” I watch their little mouths move, admiring what we’ve created.
“If they’re anything like their mother, they’ll be beautiful inside and out.” He kisses me softly. “You did so well. I’m so proud of you.” The love radiating from my husband onto our babies confirms everything I’ve known about him. He’s going to be an amazing father. “Look what you’ve given me.” A few tears slip down his cheek.
No, it’s what he’s given me.
Life is funny. It leads you down a path you never thought you’d take, only to bring you back to where you’re meant to be. It may sound cliché, but I believe everything does happen for a reason. The universe, or whatever higher power you may believe in, makes moves in divine timing.
Tom was right: Happiness comes from being. And if you let go, you find yourself exactly where you’re supposed to be.