Page 130 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
"You're wounded," I whisper.
"Yeah." He winces as he sits up, while George pins a struggling Marina behind us. "It's okay, I think it's just a shoulder wound. Didn't hit anything important."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. You okay?"
I nod. Then I kiss him.
We stay like that, holding each other close. I don't know how long we stay locked together, the chaos fading around us.
By the time we pull away, George is cradling a sobbing Marina in his arms. Sirens wail in the street below, growing louder. He looks at us apologetically.
"I'm sorry," he says. "This is partially my fault. I should… I should have noticed sooner."
"It's okay."
I should be angry but I'm not. I can't help feeling sorry for both of them, even her. Clearly, she's a woman who needs help. A lot of help.
"Is she okay?"
"No," George admits quietly. "Not really. But hopefully she will be."
He carries her into the living room to wait for the police and the ambulance, and I stay with Grayson.
"I love you," I tell him.
"I love you too," he replies.
"I hope the baby has your eyes."
It takes him a second to process it. "Wait, you're…" He trails off, disbelief turning to wonder.
I nod, and even bleeding, even in pain, he laughs, sealing it with a kiss.
Epilogue
GRAYSON
The baby does end up with my eyes. Or, to be precise, both of them do.
That's right—my beautiful Jenna gives birth to twins, each one a joyous, adorable handful all on their own.
My son, Landon, has my dark hair and is the calmer of the two—though that's not saying much.
My daughter, Leslie, with her mother's red hair, has a fiery little personality.
Jenna told me she decided to have the babies because she felt they wouldn't change her plans all that much. Apparently, fate saw that as a dare.
We got two rambunctious babies who were either screaming their heads off when they weren't hungry, cold, or in pain—or laughing hysterically as they tried to crawl anywhere their stubby little limbs could take them.
It took months of sleepless nights and sheer panic that they were going to get themselves killed before we got the hang of it.
But as much as we complained during those nightmarish toddler months, I started to miss them once they were gone.
Truthfully, I love our kids to death, and apart from their mother, they were, are, and always will be the brightest thing in my world.
Even during those difficult early years, when I put my career on hold so I could stay home with them, I loved every minute of it. I wouldn't take back a single second. Career be damned—parenting is far more important.
