Chapter 32 #2
Mariah sniffs, the sound dragging my focus to her face. A tear runs down her cheek and I wipe it away, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead.
She gives me a watery smile. “Peanut looks perfect.”
“Not surprising considering who Peanut’s mother is.” I lift my eyes, wanting another peek at the tiny human who’s going to change my whole life. I barely get a glimpse before everything shifts away.
“Huh.” The ultrasound tech moves the wand around Mariah’s stomach, pressing a little harder into her skin. “Where are you?”
I almost laugh, because I can’t imagine a baby would be super hard to find in such an enclosed space, but then that cute little face pops back onto the screen, and all I can think about is how fucking in love I am.
“And there is baby B.”
I blink, brain taking a second to register what the ultrasound tech just said. “Baby B?”
“Correct. Baby B is sitting behind baby A right now, so it wasn’t easy to get a good look at their little face.” She smiles at me, oblivious to the bomb she’s just dropped. “But I managed to get it from the other side.”
Baby B is behind baby A. Two babies. Twins.
My eyes are wide when they meet Mariah’s, but the shock is quickly wearing off. Replaced by something else.
Something I’m not going to admit to her right now. Because she looks absolutely terrified.
“Do you want to know the sex of the babies?” The tech squints at the screen, continuing to move around. “I can try to get a look, but I’m not sure if baby B is going to cooperate.” She gives us a wink. “That one’s going to be a problem child.”
Mariah shakes her head. “No. It’s okay. Thanks for offering, though.”
I’m a little surprised. The last time we discussed it, Mariah seemed like she intended to find out. I get it. It makes life easier. Plans can be made. Rooms can be painted. Names can be picked.
But there’s a certain magic about not knowing. An amount of excitement that builds to the ultimate reveal.
It’s what I wanted when Kara was pregnant, and I won’t deny it’s what I want now.
“You’ll still have your regular ultrasound in a week or two where they’ll measure everything and do a full workup.
” The tech wipes away the clear gel coating Mariah’s belly.
“So if you change your mind, they might be able to get a better look then.” She pulls away the paper protecting Mariah’s pants, chucking it into the trash along with her gloves before tearing a strip of paper off the machine and holding it out for me.
“I’ll give these to you, Dad, so you can hang onto them. ”
I take the black-and-white printed sheet, looking down at the two little faces staring back at me. “Thank you.” It’s hard to get the words out around the tightness in my throat. The emotion clogging every breath. The rope of love and fear twisting along my windpipe and knotting around my heart.
“Let me go see where they want you next. I’ll be right back.” The ultrasound tech leaves the room, and Mariah and I are alone.
She’s perched on the edge of the exam table, her legs dangling over the side, expression uncertain as it reaches me. “I’m sorry she kept calling you the babies’ dad.”
I hold her gaze, settling into a moment I’ve been considering for a long time. “Why?”
Mariah’s head tips back a little at my question, like it surprised her. “Because…” She sniffs. “Because these babies aren’t your responsibility.”
“I disagree.” I move closer, clearing the distance between us with a few steps before dropping to my knees, eyes locked in on the slight curve protecting the two tiny people who were destined to be mine.
“I think they are very much my responsibility.” I brace my hands on Mariah’s hips, letting my thumbs stroke over her stomach as I lift my eyes to her face. “Just like their mama.”
Mariah’s lower lip wobbles. “You don’t have to say that. You didn’t sign up for this.”
“I would have. In a fucking heartbeat.” I need her to know I would choose her—choose them. “Let me take care of you.” My thumb gently passes over her belly. “All three of you.”
Mariah takes a shaky breath. “You already take care of us.”
I do, but I’ve held off on boxing in what we have. Avoided labeling it because I didn’t want Mariah to feel pressured. I still don’t. But I do want her to understand how serious I am about her. About the babies.
About us.
“Officially. I want to take care of you officially.” I swallow hard, terrified she’s going to shut me down. “Put my name on their birth certificates. I want to be their dad.”
More than that, I don’t want to risk anyone trying to take them from me. Some random prick of a ranch hand showing up in ten years thinking he’s got a claim to my children.
“You would really do that?” Mariah whispers the question.
I want to answer her honestly. Tell her I want to do that and more. That the babies aren’t the only ones I plan to officially claim. But I don’t want to throw too much at her right now. So instead of asking if she would ever consider becoming my wife, I simply say, “Absolutely I would do that.”