Page 114 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

Scott and I walk from the park back to the house.

The babies are in their stroller, sleeping soundly in the sun, their perfect eyelids twitching underneath the shaded awning.

They’re just at the age when their vocalizing is starting to resemble words, and in their moments of sleep, when their seashell-colored lips are curled and still, I ache for their baby talk.

Scott holds Lucy’s leash loosely. She doesn’t take much direction at all; I’m constantly amazed by the luck the universe brought me with having Lucy as my children’s dog.

Interestingly, or maybe obviously, someone driving you to the hospital in labor creates a bond, and Scott and I have grown to be good friends.

He struck up a relationship with one of the nurses who helped deliver my twins, and so I have her as a built-in friend now, too. Jessie. She’s amazing, compassionate and confident, and with the best stories to tell, of course.

Tyler’s constantly telling me to be careful around Scott, but Chris knows he has nothing to worry about.

Now that he’s home and we’re even making enough money to vacation in Maine over the hot LA summers, we’re finally living the life we sacrificed for during my pregnancy. The days are good, and the nights are sweet.

Scott and I reach the front door, and I hand him the keys to unlock the door and hold it open for me so that I can struggle with the stroller wheels against the lip of the floor.

Scott and I head upstairs for water and a light fruit salad after our walk.

It’s a ritual that I’ve grown to love. Sometimes Chris joins us too, but not today.

Today, he’s been sneaky and reserved, wanting me to stay away while he makes and takes phone calls.

He keeps pushing me out of the house, asking if I’ll run this and that errand for him. I have this feeling he’s ordering me some sort of present, maybe a new car like we talked about. My old one is dissolving into rust more and more with each passing day.

When I reach the front door, I look over at Scott and see that he’s got on a barely-suppressed smile. He sees me looking and points it at the floor.

“What is going on?” I ask him, my key still in the lock, “I can tell something’s up. It’s not my birthday, though, so what is it?”

Scott shrugs. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about! Chris has been trying to find reasons for me to stay out of the house for practically a week straight, and look at you, you’re grinning!” I point at him accusatorily.

He smacks my hand away and demands, “Can you let me in? I’m dying of thirst. Isn’t it enough that I walk your dog free of charge? Now you expect me to read Chris’ mind? I don’t really even know the man.”

Keeping my narrowed eyes on him, I turn the handle, my heart pounding with anticipation, and open the door to…nothing different. Nothing out of place. everythingng as it usually is.

I stand for a moment in the silence of the living room, just taking in how much I truly believed something was going on. “Well…” I trail off, recovering, “Let me cut up the fruit then.”

“Oh, no, I’ve actually gotta go meet Jessie. She said she wants to have brunch. Could I just get a glass of water? I really am so thirsty.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” I pour him a glass of water while he unclips Lucy.

When he walks over to me, I lean against the counter while he drinks it. I fiddle with my hair and toss it behind my back.

“We’ve gotta get together again, all of us, soon.”

“Jessie would love that, you know she would, Hannah. We’ll do that soon, okay? Really soon!” He points excitedly at me as he shuffles toward the front door.

Once he’s disappeared, I call out for Chris, but he doesn’t answer.

I roll the babies, still in their stroller, to the nursery, where I find Chris in the middle of the dimly-lit room on one knee. His smile splits open across his face, and he reaches out his hand for me, waving at me to come closer.

Tentatively, I step toward him, and he grips my fingers and pulls me in so that my waist is at the same height as his face. He hugs around my hips and pulls back so that he can look up at me into my eyes. “Well, you knew this was coming eventually.”

I tilt my head back and laugh at the ceiling.So, this is why.“I guess I did,” I sigh, raking my fingers through his curls.

“Hannah Jackson, almost a year and a half ago, you told me it wasn’t the right time. Since then, well,” he gestures with wide open arms at the room, “It seemed like the right time when your brother forgave me and it seemed like the right time when we bought the vacation home and it seemed like the right time when our kids started crawling for the first time. It has never not seemed like the right time when I’m with you.”

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