“I still don’t know how you manage with four girls,” Lori says, sitting in the lounger next to me.
“I wouldn’t know what to do with a boy, to be honest,” I confess. “Kenton is enough to handle.”
“Talking about how wonderful I am?” he says, bringing me a glass of lemonade.
He leans down and kisses my neck, and I get that warm feeling low in my belly. His lips always make my toes curl, even after all these years.
“So we all set for next week?” Mark asks, looking at us.
“Yes, the girls are really excited. Are you sure you can handle all four of them for a week?”
Mark waves his hand like I’ve got to be kidding him.
“Please. Two boys is the same as four girls. We got this.”
“I can’t believe you’re going back to the island,” Lori says, laughing. “I thought you swore it was cursed.”
I give Kenton a wink. “I asked my doctor if he was a boy scout.”
“Why?” Lori asks confused.
“Because I wanted to make sure the knots he put in my tubes were extra tight when I got them tied after the triplets. We’re done with the baby-making business.”
We all laugh and spend the afternoon grilling out and having a relaxing day.
But a few months later, when we’re back home from the island, two little blue lines appear on the test, and Kenton is cockier than ever.
THE END