Page 114 of Seizing Control: Part Two

If only they would let me keep them both...

“Baby.” Slash softly draws concentric circles along the column of my throat with his fingertips. “Told you... you don’t needa worry. We’re not gonna make you choose.” The unspoken subtext—the words “not yet”—hang loudly between us. I brace for conditions and a time limit to be added to his acquiescence. “No more arguments. No more ultimatums. Me and him... we talked about it, and we agree. You belong to both of us. The babies belong to both of us.”

My ears ring as disbelief and hope engages in a no-holds-barred cage fight inside of me. Neither emotion wins... a mental ceasefire is called when I realise that I don’t trust their assurances. The wayward heart that’s beating too fast in my chest wants to go all-in on their promise of a truce. My skull clangs with warning bells. They are who they are—stubborn and possessive—and that’s one of the reasons I love them so much.

If I allow them to set us on this path, I’ll ruin us completely.

My babies deserve better.

And that’s what I am determined to give them.

Their daddies in their life without the loathing my love causes between them.

“Can you please have Nadia come here?”

For the first time in almost a year, I hear them laugh together.

“Lily,” Lazarus says my name with reverence. He softly frees my bottom lip from my teeth when I bite down on it. “We can have her here in minutes if that’s what you want...”

“It is.”

“Okay,” my husband replies. He extricates his phone from his cut. I watch through wide eyes as he sends a text. “It’s done, baby.”

When they return their attention to me, I draw on every ounce of willpower I possess. Reaching for the pain button as an ache flares in my swollen stomach, I accidentally hit the nurse call button instead. The sound of the beeping stops their argument in its tracks. As if their heads are on a swivel, they face me.

“Duchess.”

“Sweet thing.”

Figuring it’s the easy way out, I double down. “I want you two to give me some space.”

“But—”

The nurse ends Slash’s argument with a terse, “You heard the lady.” She flaps her hands as she stomps deeper into the hospital room. “Get.” When they don’t move straightaway, the older woman jams her hands on her hips. “Don’t make me call security.”

“Leave him,” I tell my husband when he goes to lift Garrett out of his portable cot so he can place him in his pram. “Nadia’s on her way... she’ll help me with him.” The two men gawp at me, but I pretend not to notice. Focusing on the nurse as she hits the button on the blood pressure monitor, I ask, “Can I hold him or is it a bad idea?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it—not for twelve hours, at least.” The cuff around my arm tightens to the point of annoyance. My nurse scans Garrett’s face with kind eyes. He’s sleeping peacefully in his makeshift bed, unaware that the two men in my life have the potential to bring a whole heap of drama into his existence if I let them in without boundaries. “He’s a chunky monkey, and with an emergency caesarean and a hysterectomy to recover from, it’s best to err on the side of caution.”

“Hysterectomy?”

The incredulity in my tone catches the nurses attention. She pauses tapping on the screen, sympathy softening her expression as she confirms, “Yes, lovely. The severity of the placenta abruption necessitated it after the emergency caesarean delivery. The bleeding was uncontrollable; urgent intervention was warranted.”

As he approaches the doorway, I see my husband hang his head.

He made the call to remove my uterus... and chose not to tell me.

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from yelling at him.

“And my babies?” I ask, sharply, thankful for a reason to justify sending them away.

Deliberate or not, I’ve been kept out of the loop by a pair of idiots who think the status of our relationship is more important to me than updates about my children. The laser-eyed scowl the nurse shoots at Lazarus and Slash should vaporise them on the spot. Instead of exploding into space dust, they are suddenly enamoured with their feet. The hangdog air around them doesn’t fool me—it’s clear they’ve been swinging their dicks around while I was too incapacitated to stop them. “The twins are healthy. Baby boy is fighting fit, happy as a clam, he had a little oxygen and a small feed. Give him a few days under the light, a couple of tests, and he’ll be discharged from NICU. Mark my words.”

I check her name badge, smiling when I see that her name is Grace.

How apt.

I’m in need of some grace.

---