Page 36 of Captive Bride

"Matteo, my boy, don't think I've forgotten you," Tristan chuckled, carefully shifting to accommodate our son in his other arm. Matteo Cian, with his mother's gaze and his father's mischief, gurgled with delight as he was hoisted up alongside his sister. He kicked his little legs, wrapped in a powder blue blanket that made his eyes stand out all the more.

"Look at you two," I said, stepping closer to plant a kiss on each of their foreheads. "Already taking after your father."

Tristan shot me a playful glance, his blue eyes brightening with love and pride. "They're going to be troublemakers, just like their mom," he countered, and we both laughed, the sound echoing warmly against the nursery walls.

“Excuse me? They’re exactly like you.”

“Ah, so definitely trouble.”

"Only the best kind of trouble," I teased back, watching as they settled into a peaceful slumber in his arms, our babies, our world, held safely in the circle of Tristan's unwavering love.

Slowly, carefully, Tristan and I moved the twins into their respective cribs. It took several tries—they were easy to wake, and needed their sleep. Finally…finally, they stayed asleep.

We went to our room. I watched Tristan navigate his wheelchair, a dance of precision and patience, as he reached for the stack of freshly laundered onesies on the dresser.

"Need a hand?" I offered, lingering at the doorway.

He flashed me that signature grin, the one that said he appreciated the offer but was determined to manage on his own. "I've got this," he replied, his fingers grazing the fabric. It took a few attempts, but he snagged the top onesie with a triumphant look.

"See?"

"Never doubted you," I said, leaning against the frame, my arms crossed in mock skepticism.

"Though, I must admit," he confessed with a wry twist of his lips, "the logistics of baby wrangling from a seated position present an interesting challenge."

"Which you're handling like a boss, Mr. Callahan."

"Only because my better half is here to cheer me on."

A knock at the front door echoed up the stairs, slicing through our domestic bubble.

"Expecting anyone?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

"Not at all," he said, brows furrowing slightly.

I padded down the hallway, heels clicking against the hardwood floor. The knock came again, more insistent this time. Swinging the door open, I found myself face-to-face with Kieran, his dark hair tousled and eyes holding that familiar spark of mischief.

"Kieran?" My voice hitched in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't a brother drop by to see his niece and nephew?" Kieran's smirk didn't reach his guarded eyes.

"Of course, it's just..." I trailed off, the unexpectedness of his visit sending a ripple of questions through my mind.

"Surprise." He shouldered past, a duffle bag slung over his arm, leaving a trail of intrigue in his wake.

"Surprise?" I echoed, and my voice was a cocktail of disbelief and irritation. "To what do we owe this...honor?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Kieran shrugged off his duffle bag, his smirk fading into something more genuine as his gaze swept the room. "I wanted to meet the little ones."

I couldn't help the faint smile tugging at my lips, despite the annoyance nipping at its heels. Excitement bubbled up, unbidden, at the thought of him with the twins. But our history, a tapestry of love and betrayal, tempered my joy with caution.

"Tristan," I called up, hoping my voice didn't betray the whirlwind inside me.

"Everything alright?" His voice carried down, steady and calm.

"Your brother decided to grace us with his presence." I kept my eyes on Kieran, studying his every move.

"Did he now?" Tristan appeared at the end of the hallway, a slow smile spreading across his face as he caught sight of Kieran. It was that same smile he'd give me when I'd overthink the simplest decisions—a blend of reassurance and support that eased the tightness in my chest.

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