Page 16 of Unexpectingly Happily Ever After

I sigh. “C’mon up.”

J.B. pulls the blankets away and Lucy hops onto the bed with a grin on her face. At least once a week, one of the kids will end up in bed with us.

It makes sexy time even more difficult.

″We should get a lock on the door,” J.B. mutters as Lucy cuddles between us.

″They picked the bathroom lock once when I was in there,” I remind him. “There’s no keeping them out.”

″I lost Lucy,” a new voice whispers from the doorway.

″She’s here, Benny. C’mon in.” Ben runs to J.B.‘s side of the bed with a big smile as his father picks him up and swings him across. Soon Ben and Lucy are snuggled together in the middle of the bed, providing an insurmountable obstacle for J.B.’s wandering hands.

″Love you,” I say softly, smiling across the curly heads at J.B.

″Love you too, Momma,” Ben replies.

J.B. rolls his eyes and sits up, swinging his legs out of the bed.

″Where are you going?”

″Water. And to make sure Sophie’s tied down. There’s not room enough for three of them in here.”

I watch as he pads to the door, hear his footsteps descend the stairs.

Was he really serious about another baby?

I can tell from Lucy’s breathing she’s already asleep and Ben is close behind. I should carry them back to their beds, but it feels nice to have them here with me.

For the few weeks after they were born when I was trying to nurse them, J.B. would often bring them to bed with us, and we would play pass the baby. Their feeding schedules had been horrible–none of them ever wanted to eat together, so it was as if I always had a baby on my breast. That was until a tearful thirty-two hours with no sleep, after which I sent J.B. on a mission to find a twenty-four-hour WalMart and not come home without baby formula.

I like the smell of the kids in bed with me. Clean and fresh, smelling faintly of the apple honey baby soap I still use on them.

Do I want another baby? DoesJ.B.?

I lay in bed, listening to Ben’s even breathing and Lucy’s soft snores until I pull myself out of the warmth of the blankets to find J.B.

″Were you serious?” I demand, following the sound of the tap to the kitchen.

J.B. jumps at the sound of my voice. “That I needed I drink? Yeah.”

″About a baby.”

″You told me to stop talking about that.”

″I just want to know why? Why now?”

J.B. leans against the counter as he drinks from the glass of water. “I don’t know,” he says finally, staring at the half-empty glass like it has the answers for him. “I’ve been thinking how cute they were, how much fun–”

″Fun?” I interrupt incredulously.

″It was fun, wasn’t it? Some of the times. When we had enough sleep. Trying to figure things out, just you and me…”

″We can try to figure out other things,” I suggest. “Like an IKEA bookcase.”

″So you don’t want another one?”

I heave a sigh. “Honestly? I haven’t given it a thought. I wanted a baby for so long and then we had three and I love them so much and I never thought about more.”

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