Page 72 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

“Before youpanicked,Hannah, not before you allowed yourself any feelings,” my mom clarifies. I can hear the eye roll in her voice.

“Maybe panic is the only feeling she would have right now, Mrs. Jackson,” Chris replies, the steering wheel sliding under his hand as he turns into the OBGYN office building.

“Is that true, Hannah? Are you that anxious?”

“Mom, please. No more questions,” I beg as Chris pulls into a parking space, stopping gently.

My mom twists around in her seat and reminds me, “You calledme,Hannah. I’m trying to be supportive in the best way I know how.”

Despite the financial choices she made that led to my current job, my mom and I have a good relationship, and we almost never bicker, and I certainly don’t want to bicker right now, so I just say, “Thank you, Mom,” as Chris opens my car door and holds out his strong hand.

He pulls me out of the car, snakes an arm around my waist, and hugs me tightly.

With his mouth on my ear, so close that I shiver at feeling his breath on my skin, he whispers, “She’s just worried about you. She’ll even out.” I nod against his shoulder and lean into him.

The waiting room is full of expectant women, and their faces show the entire spectrum of human emotion.

Some look out-of-their-mind terrified, and some look elated, others slightly nervous.

I don’t know what I am yet. I won’t know until I can get Chris alone and figure out how he feels about it all. I could do this alone, but I don’t want to.

I look over at my mother, her hair fading with age and her eyes set deeper, and think about how even if Chris decides he didn’t want to do this with me, I will never be alone as long as my mother is on this earth.

She came instantly at my request, even without my father. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes?” She gathers my hands and pulls them into her lap, smiling sweetly.

“What did you tell Dad?”

“Oh, my God! Your father!”

She drops my hands like a hot potato and stands up quickly, pulling her phone out of her purse with a heightened anxiety I can feel from here.

I raise my eyebrows up into my hairline and watch her with amusement as she finds his contact information.

“I’ll be right back! I’m going to step out and call him. I plum forgot about him, I was so worried about you!”

She leaves quickly, the little bell above the door ringing as she does.

I have a flashback to the first time I saw Chris again for the first time in several years.

The bell had rung above his head, too, hanging like mistletoe. He’d given me a start, caused me to catch my breath in my throat.

Now, in this moment of uncertainly, he sidles up closer to me, pulling his chair over a few inches so that he can talk in a low volume.

When he does, I feel my breath in my throat again, the rising attraction to him even under these circumstances, his piney smell. I’m grateful that smell still brings me comfort.

“You have a good mom,” he mutters to me.

I nod, and he continues, “Questionable if your dad has a good wife or not.”

When I laugh, he bumps my shoulder with his and kisses the top of my head. Butterflies take flight in my stomach.

“Hannah Jackson?” a nurse calls from the doorway, and when Chris and I stand, she smiles warmly at us and says, “Just Miss Jackson for now, sorry.”

Chris and I look at each other awkwardly, and I say, “I’d like him with me, though.”

“You can have him with you in just a moment, okay?” The nurse’s smile is kind, crinkling into her eyes, so I nod and shrug at Chris.

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