Page 115 of Seizing Control: Part Two

“Now, baby girl is a little less content. She needs full-time oxygen and a feeding tube. She’s anxious to meet her mummy—her lungs are developed enough for her to let the NICU nurses know all about that.”

“Okay.” Swallowing down the lump that’s wedged in my throat at her succinct description of my twins’ condition, I tell her, “Thank you so much for the update. When do you think I’ll be able to see them.”

“Within a few hours, I would imagine.” Grace checks the little watch pinned to her top. “After you’ve been checked over, and we’ve got you out of bed at least once, I’ll have you wheeled down there for a visit.”

“Great.”

The nurse goes back to stabbing at the tablet.

I stare at the pair of dumbarses still lingering by the door.

Their gazes are beseeching as they silently plead for me to reverse my decision to evict them. As much as it hurts me, as much as I want to have them by my side, it’s time to draw a line in the sand. They can’t keep making promises they don’t keep. I can’t continue to allow them chance after chance.

They lie.

They keep secrets.

They leave me.

Over and over.

Every time I object to their actions, I receive a bunch of platitudes, a declaration of love, and a new vow to do better. In each instance, they find another excuse to justify going back on their word.

“No more promises,” I state loud enough for them both to hear. My husband comprehends my declaration immediately since he’s heard the words many times. Lazarus is a little slower to catch on, his understanding dawning after I tell them, “No lies. No secrets. No leaving. Your actions speak louder than words from here on out.”

“Baby...”

“No.”

“Sweet thing.” Lazarus drags his fingers through his hair, his right leg bounces twice before it stops.

I hold up my hand.

After Grace returns the tablet she was using to chart my vitals to the slot at the end of my bed, I touch her forearm. Clinging tight to my resolve, I ask, “Would you be able to do me a small favour?”

“Of course.” I can tell from the mischievous glint in her gaze that she’s on board with my plan—no questions asked. “My priority is your comfort.”

I smile at her succinct assertion.

“Can you have my baby daddies escorted from the ward?” My husband takes a step in my direction. Lazarus stops him with a firm grip on his bicep. “I also want their names removed from my visitor list.”

The obviously veteran nurse dips her head in assent. “And the NICU?”

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping them from their children—” Knowing that they’ll have to get past Nadia and Crystal in the interim takes the culpability out of my hands in that area. “—They can come and go from there as the nurses and my birthing partner sees fit.”

“Well, gentleman... off you go. Don’t make me call security.” Grace claps her hands. “Go on. Get.”

It’s clear that they want to argue the point.

Chin jutted, I meet their gazes without flinching. If I don’t stand my ground now, my life is only going to get harder. There’s a reason I made the decision, weeks ago, to move forward from a place of strength and independence, and it’s time to back myself.

It’s time to start practicing following through.

After spending too long tempting fate, I need to seize control of my destiny. The choices I’m making are for the good of me and my children. For our future stability and our ongoing safety. Slash is the national president of a motorcycle club. He’s also intertwined with the secret guild that runs the world. My first love has obviously struck some kind of deal with Gabriel to join the Adjudicator’s team as part of his resurrection as Lazarus.

Both roles come with risks.

For them.

---