“Why do you produce such awful kids?” Sadie snapped at Elijah, obviously realizing the differences, too. “Even Kent’s first words were demanding.”
We were just reaching the gate when Elijah asked, “Have you decided what we’re calling this one? London? Devon?”
“I was thinking of Essex.” When Elijah started spluttering, she burst out laughing. “Stupid sod, of course I wouldn’t call it Essex.”
“Sex!” three-year-old Kent yelled, holding his fist in the air and making his mom glare at my brother again.
“See?” Sadie hissed.
Elijah’s mouth open and closed, but it was Sam who came to his rescue. “So, have you decided on a name, Sadie?”
“Yeah, my sister—the cheeky bint—went with Wickham for my nephew because of where we’re from, right?” When we all nodded, she continued, “And I wanted that name. So, because she’s a total…” she stopped when she saw both of her kids listening intently and cleared her throat. “West. That’s what I want to call this one.”
“West Townsend-Rossi sounds like an airport or train station.” My brother wasn’t far from the truth there, but it was way the wrong thing to say.
“When you’re able to squeeze Buddha out of your arsehole, then you can choose the name. Love ya!” She breezed past us to the gate and opened it to where my delicate flower was pacing angrily.
“If you don’t hurry up, I’ll be giving birth to a thirty-year-old. Now come on.”
All of the men gave me sympathetic looks, even Kent and Luca, as I waved at them and went to help my currently-but-not-always Satanic flower into the truck to take her to the hospital.
Even though it was over one hundred degrees out, she immediately reached over once I had the engine on to hit the seat warmers. Yeah, some dealership in Florida had found it amusing to stock cars with seat warmers in them.
As I backed out of the driveway, I asked, “Are you sure that won’t make you too hot, baby?”
Smacking the button that controlled the amount of air coming out and then twisting the dial so it was as cold as it’d get, she sat back and sighed happily.
“It stops my ass hole tightening up with each contraction, but thank you for reminding me about the air. By the way, I put your hoodie down under me to protect the leather.”
Glancing down, I saw she was sitting on the work jacket that identified me as a member of the CSI unit and made a mental note to text my boss to ask for a new one.
Twenty-seven hours later…
The first pregnancy was the one that was meant to go slowly, but my wife always had to stand out from the crowd and do things differently. Whereas Luca had only taken four hours to come into the world after Sasha’s water had burst, Nola had taken twenty-six.
Ironically, though, both babies were born at precisely the same weight of six pounds and eleven ounces even. Sasha had immediately fired off a text to Sadie to tell her because my brother’s kids had come in at over nine pounds each.
Years ago, when I’d realized what Sasha was to me, I’d thought I had all of the pieces to the puzzle. Then, when she’d said yes to getting married, the puzzle had grown bigger, but I’d incorrectly assumed there were only two pieces to the picture the puzzle of life made.
I. Was. Wrong.
When Luca had come into the world, it’d had grown, and more pieces of the picture had appeared. Now, holding Nola, I could see even more of it, like focusing on a wave and not seeing the ocean behind it.
Every day I dealt with the ugly side of life, the side we prayed never affected us. I helped people get justice for crimes and brutalities committed against them, and I helped families get answers and the same thing when their loved ones were cruelly taken away from them. Sometimes, I even changed the course of people’s lives when they were incorrectly accused of doing something they hadn’t, or I found what was needed to put them away for things they swore they didn’t do.
But my wife and my kids were the beauty of life, and as more puzzle pieces appeared and the picture grew larger, I knew how lucky I was.
I was staring down at Nola, watching her lips twitching as she slept, so I didn’t realize Sasha had woken up and was watching me hold our new daughter until she spoke.
“Are you going to take that bumper down off the wall in your man cave now?”
The bumper in question was the one that was on the front of the truck that’d hit her. When it came time to trade up, I’d taken it into my cousin’s garage while we were visiting, and he’d replaced it with a new one. I’d kept the one that’d hit her and brought it home and put it up on the wall in my home office.