Secret Triplets(42)

 

After seeing Brock being taken away by the police, after giving excruciating birth to our triplets and holding their beautiful raw, red faces to my crying one, yes, the last person I had expected to see was Brock. And yet here he was, standing in front of my hospital bed and grinning at me and the three bundles of beauty I cradled in my arms.

 

“How…” I said, but he was already sweeping toward me with open arms.

 

“Can I?”

 

I handed him the three babies.

 

“Of course.”

 

He pressed the tiny sleeping things to his chest, a scared yet delighted look coming over his face.

 

“Oh man, oh man. Wow.”

 

We laughed, and he said, “They’re even more perfect than I could’ve imagined.”

 

His finger pressed against the boy’s forehead.

 

“So small and…ours.”

 

“Ours,” I repeated, beaming up at him.

 

He handed them back to me and then asked, “Want to know how I got here, or want to save it for later?”

 

I shrugged and patted the empty space on the bed beside me.

 

“I’ve got time.”

 

“Okay,” Brock said, going to the other side of the bed to sit down.

 

He rested his hand softly on my shoulder and smiled as he spoke.

 

“The police were hardly interested in me since I only ever stole from criminals. In fact, when they found out I had valuable information that would put Russell and his henchmen away for a nice long time, they had to stop themselves from outright shaking my hand at the end of the dealings. When I told them that my girlfriend was giving birth, they drove me here in the squad car, lights blaring and all.”

 

Smiling, I asked him, “Ooh, so I’m your girlfriend now huh?”

 

Grasping my hand, he said, “Well, if you’ll accept…”

 

Then, drawing it to his lips and kissing it, he said, “Alex, ‘girlfriend’ doesn’t even begin to cover what you are to me, but it’s a start. I may have missed our children’s birth, but you have my word that I’ll be there for every minute of their lives from now on.”

 

“Alex?!” a voice called across the hospital room as a red-haired figure raced toward me.

 

“I can’t believe you gave birth without me!” Tiffany yelled, Kyle and my mom trailing behind her.

 

Seeing Brock, she paused.

 

“Oh, you’re…”

 

“Brock Anderson, Alex’s boyfriend,” Brock said, holding out his hand with a smile.

 

Tiffany cocked her head at the proffered hand. Then, heaving a sigh, she clasped it warmly.

 

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong,” she said to me. “You may have picked a winner.”

 

“Clearly I have some catching up to do,” Brock said with a grin, taking my hand now.

 

“You do, but there’s no need to worry,” I said, squeezing his hand. “We have the rest of our lives to catch up.”

 

 

 

The next few days passed in a happy blur: faces of family and friends, chocolate and balloons and teddy bears, and, of course, my darlings, my perfect little darlings. There was Noelle, named after her great-grandmother who’d had her same rosy cheeks well into her eighties; Sasha, named after Sasha Barrette, an artist Brock and I loved; and, finally, Ian, named after Brock’s father, who had died in combat when Brock was only twelve.

 

Having three babies was just how it sounded—noisy and demanding. It seemed like I was feeding them nonstop, too. When one was finished, another one would start its harried demands. And yet, it wasn’t as difficult as I had thought it would be. With Brock by my side, parked in the hospital chair, I was able to sleep a bit and eat. My days were still tiring, sure, but they were doable.

 

And when I saw my little triplets look up at me with their loving hazel eyes, there was nothing better. Seeing Brock with them, carrying them in his strong arms, patting their backs, kissing their tiny cheeks, made me care for him more every day.

 

Tiffany and my mother delighted in the babies too. Along with Brock, they wouldn’t leave my side, and every day they came armed with more gifts for the triplets.

 

One day, however, the day before I was to be discharged, Tiffany came with bad news.

 

“Combs, it’s your apartment.”

 

My face fell.

 

“Crap. Did I forget to pay?”

 

She shook her head.

 

“No. It’s not that. It’s just…” She fell silent and then glanced at Kyle, as if he could give her the words to tell me what she had to.

 

“What? What is it, Tiff? Tell me.”