“You can’t stop shivering. You look awful,” he said.
Pushing away from him, she glanced down over herself. Distaste marred her brow. “I spent last night at work and I didn’t have time for a shower when I came back.”
“Aren’t you working enough without taking on babysitting?”
She glanced at Jennie and trembled again. “I just... I wanted to see if I could handle her for a few hours.” The resigned curve of her mouth tugged at him.
“Meu Deus, what is the matter with you?”
Silence.
He frowned, resisting the urge to shake her by her shoulders. He had never seen her so defeated, never heard that self-deprecating tone in her words. He picked her up and settled down into the recliner with her in his lap. The fact that she sagged into him without a protest alarmed the hell out of him.
“You look like you’re ready to tip over. Answer my question, pequena. What’s going on?”
She tucked her knees in closer. Tears rolled over her cheeks. “There are two, Diego.”
He raked his mind. “Two... Two what, gatinha?”
“Two heartbeats.”
He pushed her chin up none too gently. “What?”
A shadow descended on her face, her skin a tight mask over the fine bones. “I went to see the doctor today for a routine checkup. She thought it best to do an ultrasound. There are two... Diego, there are twins.”
His mouth slack, Diego couldn’t believe her words. Incredible joy flushed through him. He was going to be a father to not one but two babies. He had no breath left in him. He felt lightheaded, as if nothing could mar his happiness anymore. He was going to have a family—a proper one—with two babies looking to him for everything.
He shivered at the magnitude of what it meant.
It had been a shock when he had first learned of the baby, but now all he felt was exceptionally blessed. As if for the first time in as far as he could remember he had a chance to be something good, to build something good—as if life had finally handed him a good turn.
Gathering Kim tight in his arms, he pressed a kiss to her upturned mouth and tasted her tears.
He pulled back from her, the worry etched into her pinched mouth, the sheer terror in her gaze, puncturing his own joy.
“That’s why you brought Jennie over? Why you’re practicing?”
He cupped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. His mouth felt dry. Words were hitching in his throat. He palmed her back, up and down, looking for words to do this right.
Because he had never been in this position of offering comfort or strength to her—ever. She had never leaned on him for anything. Her unwavering strength was both incredibly amazing and annoying at the same time.
“This is not something where we practice for perfection, gatinha,” he said softly, anxious to remove anything negative from his words. “We just try to do our best.”
“But that’s not enough, is it? Good intentions and effort can’t make up for what’s missing. You told me once your mother had never been able to scrape enough money to feed you properly, but you didn’t care, did you? Because you knew that she loved you.”
“As will you love our children. I told you before—we don’t have to be perfect parents; we just have to love them enough—”
She fought against his grip again, a whimper escaping her. That pained sound sent a shiver racing up his spine.
“Whatever is paining you, I swear I will help you through it, gatinha. Tell me, what is—?”
“I’m not good with babies.” Her words sounded as if they were tortured, as if they were ripped from her. “I’ll never be, so it’s a good thing you’re here. Or else our kids might never stop crying—might turn out just like me, hating their mother.”
Something squeezed in his chest and he released a hard breath, shoving aside his own conflicted emotions for the minute.
“And the fact that you’re exhausted has nothing to do with it?”
She bit her lip. Her uncertainty—something he had never seen—was a shock to his system.
“How do you feel about being a full-time stay-at-home daddy?”
He smiled even as stark fear gripped him. “And what will you do?”
“I’ll do everything else.” She ran her tongue over her lips, her brow tied into that line that it got when she was in full-on thinking mode. “I’ll work, I’ll clean, I’ll cook. I’ll even—” She stopped, as though she had just caught on to the desperation in her words. Her tears spilled over from her eyes, her slender shoulders trembling under the weight of perplexing grief. “I don’t feel anything, Diego.”