Quadruplets Make Six

“Just take it all in. I wanted us to have a special night together.”

I pulled out her chair and helped her to sit down. She was getting to that point in her pregnancy where she required a lot more help to do basic things, which was why I was so adamant about her moving in. Whenever she was with me, I listened to her struggle to get out of bed sometimes. My greatest fear was that she would be alone in her apartment and take a tumble and not be able to get herself back up.

“You look worried,” Libby said. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” I said.

“Shouldn’t we have menus?” she asked.

“I already put in our order for the evening.”

“What are we having?”

And right on cue, our waiter for the evening appeared with two full plates of food.

“Duck confit for the father, and a toasted banana, marshmallow, and mustard sandwich for the mother.”

“You did not,” Libby said with a giggle.

“Oh, I did,” I said.

“I know you hate it, but it smells wonderful.”

“I’m glad. I wasn’t sure what you would like as a side, so I went with crisp vegetables and a cheesy risotto.”

“It smells heavenly,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

About halfway through the meal I smelled it, the cake I had ordered. I watched the waiter move cautiously in the shadows and I prepared myself for the inevitable. Everything was out of my hands now. I eyed the waiter as he approached the table, coming into the spotlight and catching Libby’s attention.

Then, I watched her expression fall.

“I think someone might’ve messed something up, Graham.”

“Why?” I asked.

“This is a wedding cake.”

“It is.”

“What did you tell them to do for dessert?” she asked.

“I promise, this cake is for the two of you,” the waiter said.

Then I nodded at him before he bowed and walked away.

“I can go back and talk to someone if you want me to,” Libby said.

“Why don’t you take a look at the cake first? Maybe you might like it,” I said.

I watched her eyes fall to the cake as I clenched my fists in my lap. I waited for her eyes to catch it. To scan the top of the cake and take in what was there. I watched her eyes journey up the intricate piping and graze past the fondant flowers. I watched her finger dip into the icing before she popped it into her mouth, moaning with delight. Her eyes crept farther and farther up the dainty cake made especially for two, and when her eyes stopped at the top I did what I needed to do.

I slid out of my chair and got down onto one knee.

“Graham? What is that?”

I reached up to the top of the cake, plucked the ring from its stand, and took hold of her left hand.

“Libby, from the moment I laid eyes on you at that wedding eight months ago, I thought you were beautiful. I saw you struggling with your parents, try