Page 25 of King of the Dawn

He didn’t waste a moment. Both he and Alastair rushed toward us, practically elbowing each other to make it to Rose first. I let out a giggle as Jericho pushed him aside with his hip and dropped in front of us.

Rose grumbled, but she didn’t stop me when I replaced my hand with Jericho’s. “They’re strong and healthy,” I said, tears brimming at the surface while I watched my husband’s face light up. Coffee-colored eyes twinkled with pride.

Pressure built in my chest when the emotions became too much. The same vision of babes playing in the garden on that very first night danced in my mind. Except three pairs of tiny baby feet trailed around me in the greenery. Three unique sets of laughter. Two babies from Rose. Another was… ours.

I wanted it so badly that it almost felt like it was true. Babies made everything better. They made me filled to the brim with joy.

“That’s the first time they've kicked hard enough to be felt from the outside,” Rose said.

Alastair let out a curse beside us. “I want to feel, damn it.”

He tried to shove his way between us, but Rose held out a hand to stop him.

She knew how important this moment was, knew how badly her father needed a moment of light in the endless dark, and she was willing to give it to him.

I placed a hand over Jericho’s on top of Rose’s belly, and he tore his attention so he could look at me. There was a glint in his eye, and for a moment, I could imagine his hand on my scarred belly, as it rounded with child as well. Did he feel that premonition with me? It felt so strong, it was hot on my hand.

“So, will they call you Pawpaw?” I asked. “Is that what Americans call grandparents?”

Rose let out a shriek of laughter, then swatted our hands from her stomach so she could sit up.

“Aoibheann has jokes,” Alastair said, his voice filled with a hint of humor, despite the clear frustration written in the crease along his brows. “I never knew you had a sense of humor.”

Jericho chuckled and stood and grabbed my hands to pull me with him. I grinned, satisfied that I’d made him forget, even just for a few moments, that he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I’d also take the victory that I’d distracted him enough from his hatred of Alastair that he’d refrained from fighting him long enough to enjoy the sweet kicks of his grandbabes.

“I can feel them,” Alastair gasped, bringing his lips down on Rose’s stomach. “Hey kids. It’s Daddy.”

Rose ran her fingers through her husband’s golden hair, as he whispered sweet things to her stomach, hoping that the little ones inside could hear him.

Rose smiled, as a little thump of a kick pushed at her belly, right on Alastair’s lips.

“I think your daughter just kicked you in the mouth!” I laughed, smiling at the beautiful scene before me. Who knew that a Green could ever be so gentle with his wife?

“As long as she’s healthy, she can kick me wherever she wants,” Alastair said, bringing his lips back down on the stretched skin of his wife’s stomach. “Just like her mother.”

I stepped back, pulling Jericho away from Rose so that Alastair could be with his wife, and his little ones.

The doctor cleared his throat, drawing our attention back to him like he was the ignored elephant in the room. “Mrs. Vasilieva-Green, I know this isn’t what you want to hear but I think it’s time to take it easy.”

I hesitated, the last thing she needed–or wanted—were the men in her life treating her as if she were made of glass. She needed rest, but if they were telling her that, she’d defy them.

“Rose, come with me,” I said, releasing my hold on Jericho.

“Aoibheann,” Alastair said hesitantly when I approached. “The doctor…”

“I want to show you the flowers I grew.” I interrupted him and grabbed each of her hands in mine. Then I pulled her up and off the couch. I didn’t make it seem like I was helping her up. It was more enthusiastic. Like I just had to show her something and she was taking too long.

“What flowers?” she asked.

I wrapped an arm around her, tugging her into my side. She was stronger than me, everyone knew that. Still, as if she were one of my delicate flowers, I treated her as if touching her could harm her petals. I stroked her arm, and she melted into my hold.

“Remember the roses your father gave me? The first night I was here?”

“Yes.”

The men followed behind us as I walked to a new raised garden bed in the corner of my sunroom. Jericho’s growl could be heard, and I flashed a glance behind me to look at them. Jericho elbowed his son-in-law, and Alastair was shoving him to get through the door frame.

I took her straight to my potted roses. The stems had buds on them, and I reached out to touch one. “I took the petals off to make your tea,” I told her.

---