Page 44 of If Only In Our Dreams

Afterward, we’d made lunch together, chicken wraps that were more cheese than wrap. And now that the twins were full of energy and dressed to fight the cold, we were at the park down the street, training.

Training…had not been my idea.

After the Pie Festival last fall and our inevitable loss during the relay race, the twins had become determined to win the following year. Sure, I doubted we would. I wasn’t as fast as Paxton or Trent was, and therefore would be hard-pressed to beat them in the race. And if I had the twins roped up to my legs for the three-legged portion, we would lose for sure, but thatdidn’t mean I wasn’t going to support them when they wanted something—however misguided it was.

I figured there was a lesson in losing, just like there was in winning.

And I was proud of them for wanting to work hard toward something that wasn’t a guaranteed success.

Rosie wheezed in a breath—finally remembering that air was a thing she needed—before she crossed her designated finish line and cheered happily in triumph. Except, when she cheered, she threw the spoon upward, and the egg flew and?—

Yep.

Smashed right into Jane’s coat where she’d been waiting at the end.

Jane looked down at the yolk, slowly dripping down her coat, pulled in a long, labored breath—and…

“Oh, honey,” I knelt down immediately, pulling the wet wipes I brought with me at all times out of my coat pocket. “It’s okay. It’s just a little?—”

A high-pitched wail filled the air, loud enough to startle a few birds out of the roost they’d made. Indignant, they squawked at the three of us like we were Satan himself.

“I’m sorry,” Rosie said, her own little voice wobbling. “It was ass-dent.”

“Accident,” I corrected gently.

“Ass-dent,” Rosie agreed, wetter this time. “I didn’t mean to.”

Jane stopped wailing, but by that point, all was lost. Because now that the waterworks had begun, there was little I could do to stop them. Rosie sniffled, sucked in a long breath of her own, and I braced myself for two screaming, blubbering toddlers at once.

I knew they needed to be distracted. But Jane also needed the egg off her coat, otherwise it would just set them both off again. So I moved quickly and efficiently to clean her up, all the whilemurmuring soothingly to both of them and using my free hand to stroke over their shaking little backs.

“It’s okay, my angels,” I promised, trying not to panic when the pitch of their cries stabbed directly into my brain and made me feel shaky and overstimulated myself. “I promise. See? It’s gone. All gone.”

I swiped a fresh wet wipe over Jane’s coat, clearing the last of the yolk, my heart aching for my two favorite little people. At this age, they had such big feelings, so big they couldn’t figure out how to regulate them most of the time. I tried to help as much as I could, but there were times when feelings just needed to be…felt.

“It’s okay,” I promised them both, settling them against my chest and placing a kiss on each of their little heads. I wasn’t sure if they’d feel the kiss through their hats, but I hoped so. “Papa’s got you.”

The hug seemed to help for all of thirty seconds.

But then Rosie started blubbering more apologies, and Jane discovered there was egg on her shoe too—and I had to pull back to grab more wet wipes.

The last thing I expected on a sunny, brisk autumn afternoon was for Robin Johnson to appear like the guardian angel he apparently was, and save the day.

But he did.

Because Rosie sucked in another breath, ready to wail again—and instead—a peal of laughter escaped her. Wild and twinkly and bright. Jane turned to see what she was looking at and her eyes widened, a little shark-like grin lighting up her face too.

“Ow!” a familiar scratchy voice yelled. “Thathurt.”

Swiveling, I tried to see what they were looking at, only to be shocked and endlessly amused when I realized it was Robin.

Robin.

Dressed in head-to-toe black like usual.

Hopping around on one foot like an overgrown cartoon, Robin had a comically shocked expression on his face. It was obvious he was faking, and my heart lurched as he slowly, ridiculously, pretended to trip. Face-planting against the ground with an exaggerated thud, he raised both hands above his head toward us and gave us a double thumbs-up.

“I’m okay!”

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