Page 108 of Breakaway Daddies

“I don’t care,” he says. “It’s magic.”

Bruno leans in close, brushing a gentle knuckle down the side of our daughter’s cheek. “She looks like Jinx,” he whispers reverently.

“Yeah,” Thomas agrees, peeking over my shoulder, “and this little dude’s got Rowan’s cranky forehead already.”

“Hey,” Rowan mutters, but he doesn’t even try to argue. He’s too busy smiling like someone handed him the moon.

Nina, calm and focused as ever, is gently drying the babies with warm towels, her voice soft. “They’re both perfect. Healthy, strong, and very vocal. That’s a good sign.”

I blink up at her, dazed. “Vocal” feels like an understatement. One of them just made a noise that sounded like a tiny goat scream.

My eyes drift toward the bundles she’s swaddling, little flailing fists poking out, cheeks pink and round and furious at the injustice of birth.

“I didn’t want the pink and blue circus,” I mumble, half to myself. “Everything’s unisex in the nursery. Yellow, green, little frogs and clouds. Felt stupid to assign colors to humans who aren’t even out of the womb yet.”

Rowan huffs a laugh that turns into a sniffle.

Thomas crouches beside the babies, gently tapping one little foot with a fingertip like he can’t believe they’re real. “Frogs are gender neutral. Frogs areeverything.”

Bruno nods solemnly. “Frogs are wise. Good guardians.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Rowan says, but he’s smiling as he says it.

The room is warm and loud and kind of a mess. There’s damp towels everywhere, and someone’s elbow just knocked over a bottle of electrolyte water, and I’m sitting in a half-deflated birth tub with tears leaking down my cheeks.

And it’s perfect.

“You’re so small,” I whisper to them. “And you have no idea how much trouble you’re gonna cause.”

Thomas grins. “I feel like they’re already conspiring.”

“Oh, one hundred percent,” Rowan says. “Look at their little faces. Those are the expressions of two people who are definitely going to team up and destroy our house.”

Bruno leans in, voice gentle. “Let them. We’ll build it again. Better every time.”

Nina chuckles softly as she adjusts the towels around me. “You’re all naturals. You should be very proud.”

“Oh, we are,” Thomas says, puffing up like he just won MVP. “I mean, we didn’t do much?—”

“I beg to differ,” I interrupt dryly. “You absolutely contributed.”

Thomas wiggles his eyebrows, and Bruno immediately smacks his arm. “Don’t make it weird,” Bruno hisses, even though he’s grinning.

Rowan just shakes his head, eyes still locked on the babies. “Two of them,” he whispers again, like saying it out loud makes it more real. “Two little humans. Our little humans.”

“Okay,” I whisper, looking down at our tiny miracles. “Now what?”

Thomas grins. “Now we learn how to change diapers without calling 911.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rowan says. “I watched three YouTube tutorials last week. I’m basically a pediatric nurse.”

“I will handle bath time,” Bruno announces solemnly. “And lullabies. And night watch.”

“Night watch?” Thomas echoes.

“Like a guard,” Bruno says, crossing his arms. “Nothing touches them. Not even bad dreams.”

I smile down at our babies and lean back, surrounded by the warmth of my partners and the softness of the moment. Everything else can wait.

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