Something in her voice made me look up. She was smiling, biting her lip in one of her nervous tells.
“Distractions?”
She took my hand and placed it on her stomach. “Babies are very distracting.”
My eyes widened. “Babies? Holly? Are you…?” My voice trailed off in excitement and disbelief. After Angela was born, we had a lot of trouble conceiving Hannah. Holly got pregnant after we stopped stressing about having another child. Hannah was another unexpected gift for both of us. After she was born, we didn’t try not to get pregnant—but we didn’t not try either.
Apparently, my old bones still worked. I felt my smile stretch across my face. Wide. Hard. Ecstatic.
“I am.” She confirmed.
As carefully as I could, I shifted away from Hannah and knelt in front of Holly. “Angel—really?”
“Really.”
I gathered her in my arms, holding her close. I dropped kisses to her forehead, cheeks, nose, then captured her mouth and kissed her deeply. Then a thought occurred to me. “How pregnant?”
She smiled against my mouth. “Another Christmas baby.”
I laughed, dropping my head back on my shoulders in silent laughter. Angela was born on Christmas Day, Hannah on Boxing Day.
“What is it about spring with us?” I chuckled. “You’re extra fertile.”
“April Fools’ every time.”
I caressed her cheek. “So it seems.” I ran my finger over her stomach, grinning when she giggled. She was always more sensitive when she was pregnant. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. Tired, but fine.”
“Have you seen the doctor?”
“Yes. Everything is good, and you’ll be there for the ultrasound as usual.”
“For everything.”
She cupped my cheek. “I know.” Her thumb brushed my skin. “Maybe we’ll have a little Brooks boy this time. Would you like that?”
“I’d like him or her to be healthy and happy. Nothing else. I don’t need to produce the next generation of Brooks men. My girls carry my name and my heart. That’s all I need.”
“I love you.”
I cradled her face in my hands, her beautiful, sweet, wonderful face, and I kissed her. “Angel, love isn’t a big enough word. It’s not a big enough feeling for what happened to me when you came into my life. What you continue to do in my life. You make everything… right.” I sighed. “You are the gift that just keeps giving, Holly. The best gift I ever got.” I kissed her again. “Thank you for being you. My perfect Angel.”
Her eyes were misty and her voice tender. “I’m hardly perfect, but I love being your Angel.”
I slid beside her and wrapped her in my arms. She settled close, her head resting on my shoulder. I slid my hand to her stomach, spreading my fingers wide, knowing my child was resting under my touch. Holly laid hers over mine with a happy sigh.
I stretched out my legs, grinning when Angela grasped my foot in her sleep. Hannah slept to one side, and Holly was curled into my other side. I was touching every member of my family—safe and secure inside our little nest.
Next Summer
I lifted the baby swing and let it go carefully, the motion making my son laugh. I loved that sound. His sweet, high giggle that completed my world. I puckered my lips and crossed my eyes, making funny noises, and he squealed in glee. Laughing, I lifted him from the swing, holding him high. He kicked his feet and he gurgled in happiness as I slowly lowered, then lifted him back up a few times, and swooshed him around like a plane. My son loved that game.
I brought him to my chest and kissed his cheek, chuckling as he squeezed mine between his long fingers. For only seven months old, he was freakishly strong.
Brandon was another “throwback” to my grandfather. Hair so dark it was black clung to his head in wild curls, which he got from Holly. The rest was me. He was long, lean, with eyes of bright green, and Holly simply referred to him as my Mini-Me. He was the biggest baby I had ever seen, and Holly had a great deal of trouble birthing him. When they handed him to me, I was shocked by his size. Twenty-three inches and almost ten pounds in weight. I had no idea how she carried him to term. But she did, and on New Year’s Eve, he was born—just like his sisters—in the middle of a storm. Holly joked it was tradition, and I supposed she was right.
We also decided three children were enough. I never wanted to watch Holly struggle that way again or feel the fear I did as we went through some tense moments. Holly was my world, and the thought of losing her was too much. Once she recovered and we talked, I had a vasectomy. We were so blessed, and I didn’t want her taking birth control—the side effects she could experience frightened me as well.