“I get it,” Libby said. “You’re protecting your children. I can’t fault you for that. If anything, I think you’re a greater man for it.”
“And I’m sorry for ignoring you for the past couple of weeks. I came home to both of my boys having the flu, and they just started getting better.”
“My god, Graham. I mean, I get why you don’t tell people about them, but I would’ve understood.”
“I know, I know. It’s just, there are many reasons I keep them separated from other aspects of my life. Their mother is one, but I also don’t want a revolving door of women walking in and out of the house. They’ve been through enough and they need stability. My three kids need stability.”
I felt Libby tense as her hand fell from my back.
“Libby?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Your three kids,” she said.
“Yeah. My daughter and my two sons,” I said.
“Would you… be willing to change that statement to ‘your four kids’?” she asked.
My eyes connected with Libby’s as the blood drained from my heart. Four kids? Was this… was Libby pregnant?
“Four kids,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“You’re… you’re pregnant.”
“Yes,” she said with a whisper.
“That’s why you came to the house.”
“It is,” she said.
“How did you know where I lived?” I asked.
“I um… I was in the cafe across town when you… when you walked in.”
“Coffee Cupz?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you approach me then?”
“Honestly? I didn’t think you’d talk to me. So, I… got in my car and followed you.”
I watched a tear drip down Libby’s cheek. She was shaking, and I didn’t want her feeling this way any longer. She was the kindest, freest, most incredible woman I had ever met. She was timid and soft spoken, and her light-hearted nature touched a part of me only my kids had touched. I cupped my hand against her cheek as her tears died on my skin, and when she nuzzled into my touch I felt my heart explode with happiness.
This beautiful, soft, intelligent, soft-spoken woman was carrying my child.
“You’re pregnant,” I said with a smile.
“I am,” she said with a grin.
“We’re gonna have a baby.”
“‘We’?” she asked.
“You didn’t think I was going to let you do this alone, did you?” I asked.
“I wasn’t sure what to think. I figured with three kids of your own you’d-”
I silenced whatever she was going to say with a kiss. I felt her body fall into mine as my arms wrapped around her back. I pulled her into my lap, her legs straddling me as her hands wound tightly in the tendrils of my hair. I felt her tongue lapping at my lips, begging for entrance as my hands roamed her body.
Libby was pregnant. With my child. I felt my head spinning with excitement. I deepened the kiss, allowing the fire sparking in my toes to run up my legs. I laid us down onto her bed, rolling her over so she was pinned underneath the strength of my body. I had missed her kisses. I had missed her touch. I had missed the way her body felt underneath mine as her legs spread willingly to accommodate my body.
“We’re going to have a baby,” I said, whispering.
“So… you’re not angry?” Libby asked.
My eyes connected with hers as my hand traveled down her body. I watched her eyes flutter closed as her body betrayed her true want for me. I pressed a kiss to her neck, then her shoulder, then her cheek.
“I could never be angry with you,” I said.
Our lips connected again and that was it. I knew Libby was the one. I didn’t know how things were going to turn out and I didn’t know how we would integrate her into the family, but she wasn’t going anywhere. I wasn’t going anywhere. This past month without her had been a nightmare, and every morning I woke up and wished she was there. I was excited to start a family with her. To raise a child with her and introduce her to my kids. I knew they would love her. I knew they would adore her.
Just like I did.
But I had to get her to trust me again. I felt Libby’s hands planting themselves onto my chest and I rose up from her body. There was hesitancy in her eyes when there should’ve been happiness, and it killed a part of me. She didn’t trust me any longer, and I couldn't blame her for that. But that didn’t mean it had to stay that way.
I had to earn Libby’s trust back. No matter what it took.
Sixteen
Libby
I woke up one morning with a very sick stomach. Pulling myself from my bed, I sighed. It had been a week since I told Graham I was pregnant and he was acting like he had to make up for lost time. He was constantly text messaging me and calling me in the evenings, and now that I knew he had children I was wondering what they thought. When he was spending an hour on the phone with me, I was wondering what they were doing. When he was messaging me in the morning, I would wonder where his children were. How did he have all this free time to talk with me? He was a business owner and a father of three very small children. What was going on with them while he was talking with me?
I didn’t like that. I tried to keep my messages short and clipped so he didn’t feel the need to talk with me. I wasn’t going to allow him to neglect the children he had simply because I was pregnant with another one. In the grand scheme of things, my child wasn’t going to be special to him. It wasn’t going to be his first child, or even his first son or daughter. I was just some woman he’d accidentally gotten pregnant, and I wanted him to know I didn’t expect much from him.
I didn’t expect anything from him.
I broke the news to my bosses at the law firm and they understood. They both had kids at home. They were truly happy I had finally found someone to share my life with. I didn’t have the guts to tell them I wasn’t walking down the aisle with anyone just yet.
I felt lost in a sea of emotions, between happiness and stress. Graham blowing up my phone wasn’t making anything better.
Part of me wanted to tell him what was going on, but I knew he had plenty on his plate. Between raising three children and dealing with his company, he had enough stress in his life. I didn’t need to be adding to his plate or start assuming I was special in any way.
After all, I wasn’t even the first woman he had done this with.
I was lying in bed after calling out sick again and my phone kept buzzing. I picked it up as I rubbed my eyes, seeing the messages rolling in from Graham. Everything from ‘how are you feeling?’ to ‘how long do you have to work today?’ had been sent, and I almost tossed my phone into the corner.
Until a very specific message came in.
My daughter has a ballet recital tonight at seven. Would you like to join us?
He was inviting me to one of his daughter’s recitals? Were his sons going to be there? I laid there in bed, reading the message over and over again. Why would he be inviting me to a family function? Didn’t he want to keep these parts of his life separate? That was what he said a week ago. Had something changed?
My fingers hovered above the keypad for what seemed like hours before I drew in a deep breath. If he wanted me to come to his daughter’s ballet production, then maybe this was him trying to show me he was in this for the long haul. Maybe he didn’t care about me, but this might’ve been his way of trying to show he was going to be there for this child. And who was I to deny the presence of this child’s father simply because I didn’t know where I stood with him? That was selfish of me, and I didn’t want to start motherhood by being selfish.
So I told him I’d see him at seven.
He texted me the address of the venue and I took the day to rest up for it. My body was more exhausted than it had ever been, and I slipped in and out of sleep all day. I kept dreaming of him. I closed my eyes and saw his beautiful face. I imagined what our child would look like, if they wou
ld have his eyes or mine. Would we have a son or a daughter? Did Graham have a preference? Would his children accept my child as one of their siblings, or would my child forever be destined to be an outcast? I woke up with more worry rushing through my veins than ever before, and I rushed around to get ready for the production.
Then I went to meet Graham.
He was waiting for me with his sons in his arms. They were dressed in suits that matched the one their father had on and it forced a smile upon my cheeks. They were wiggling around and making a mess of their father, and without thinking I held my hands out for one of them. He fell into my grasp and I held him close, smiling down at the boy with shaggy brown hair. He wrapped his arms around me and I held him close, and I could feel Graham’s eyes on me the entire time.
“You look wonderful, Libby.”
“Thanks,” I said. “We should really take our seats.”
I held one of his sons in my lap the entire recital. His daughter was beautiful, tiptoeing around the stage and doing these cute little jumps. Her face lit up every time she was out in front, showcasing how she could twirl and jump and kick high to the sky. I looked over at Graham and saw his eyes light up. He was so proud of his daughter and what she was doing. He cradled his sleeping son against his chest as he took in his daughter’s performance, and my heart melted at the sight. This massive man, with muscles bulging from his suit and eyes that could pierce any enemy, was softened by the moves of his daughter and the feel of his son against his chest.
In that very moment, I understood the type of man Graham was. I got a glimpse of the true person inside. I saw him for who he was, not the businessman-slash-lover he portrayed himself to be. Deep to his core, he was a family man. A man willing to sacrifice anything and everything for the happiness and safety of his children. This was the piece of him I had been missing. This was the piece of him he had been concealing from me. This was what had been missing on all of those dates where I thought he seemed distant and unaware of his surroundings.
I studied him, reveling in the beauty of his fatherhood.
Soft snores started coming from my chest and I dropped my gaze. His son was fast asleep on me, pressed deeply into my bosom with his cheek against my heart. Graham looked down at me, smiling a smile I’d never seen on his face before. I cupped his son’s head with my hand, feeling the way he snuggled closer into me as tears crested my eyes.
We could make a wonderful team if we could get ourselves back on track.
The production ended and the two of us rose to our feet. We clapped our free hands against our legs, cradling the two sleeping twins against our bodies. I started whooping when his daughter took the stage, bowing deeply with her tutu bouncing against her waist.
I looked up at Graham and saw tears lining his eyes, tears of pride as he cheered his daughter on.
We moved from our seats and made our way backstage. The young girls were hustling everywhere, but my eyes were locked on his daughter. The moment she saw her father she took off, running with open arms straight into his. I peeled his sleeping son from him, cradling them both against me so he could hug his daughter tight.
Then she turned to me and smiled.
“Hi! I’m Lizzie. Are you feeling better?”
I furrowed my brow as my eyes darted to Graham.
“She recognizes you from the porch,” he said.
“Oh. Oh! Lizzie, it’s very nice to meet you. And yes, I’m just fine. I wasn’t feeling very well that day, and when I saw you guys were home I ran away so you wouldn’t get sick. I heard the boys weren’t feeling well and I didn’t wanna risk it.”
“Yeah. My brothers had the flu. Do you know which one is which?” Lizzie asked.
I chuckled as Graham set his daughter down onto her feet.
“I’m still getting the hang of it. Why don’t you remind me?” I asked.
“The one with the longer hair is Deacon. The one with the shorter hair parted off to the side like Daddy’s is Daniel.”
“I think I can remember that now,” I said. “Thank you very much for your help.”
“Did you like my dancing?” she asked.
“I loved it. I can’t dance like that. I’m very jealous,” I said.
“I could teach you, if you want.”
“I would like that very much,” I said with a smile.
I looked up at Graham and there was an expression on his face I couldn’t read. I knew he was studying the situation, but there was a shadow of a grin on his cheeks. He reached for Daniel, who was fast asleep, but as soon as my tired arm hit my side I felt a small hand slide within mine.
I looked down to see Lizzie smiling up at me.
“Are you a friend of Daddy’s?” she asked.
I looked at Graham before I drew in a deep breath.
“I am, yes. Is it okay that I’m here?” I asked.
“Yeah. I like it. Daddy doesn’t have friends, so it’s nice to know he has one,” Lizzie said.
“I have plenty of friends,” Graham protested.
“But none that come over and play. We get to have friends over all the time, but you don’t bring any over,” Lizzie said.
“That’s because I’m too busy cleaning up after you guys,” Graham teased.
“No. It’s because you work too much,” Lizzie said.
“I think she’s calling you out on that one,” I said.
“Well, how about we focus on getting ice cream to celebrate your wonderful performance,” Graham said.
“Really?” Lizzie asked.
“I could get behind ice cream,” I said. “But will the boys be okay?”
Graham’s eyes connected with mine again as that unreadable expression crossed his face.
“They sleep anywhere,” Lizzie said. “Come on. We can go to my favorite place.”
“Why’s it your favorite?” I asked.
“Because they have oatmeal raisin cookie dough ice cream,” Lizzie said.
“That… actually doesn’t sound half bad,” I said.
“It’s the best. Now come on!”
Lizzie tugged my body and I relented with a giggle. I cradled Deacon against my body, trying not to jostle him too much as Graham followed quickly behind me. Lizzie dragged us all to the car and I helped get the boys situated in their car seats, then I shut the door and looked up at Graham.
“Follow you guys there?” I asked.
“I figured you wouldn’t have a problem with that,” he said with a wink.
Seventeen
Graham
I leaned against the doorjamb as I watched Libby sit on the edge of my daughter’s bed. She was reading a book to her and Lizzie was enjoying every second of it. The light in my daughter’s eyes as Libby turned each and every page was unmistakable, and I enjoyed the way they were always bonding when Libby came over. The boys had taken to her already, but they were pretty friendly toddlers. They’d take to just about anyone if they spent enough time around them. But Lizzie was a different story. She was skeptical of anyone that came around. She was the child that always clung to my pant leg if she was ever meeting someone new.
But she never did that with Libby.
Not once.
The way the two of them had bonded warmed my heart. Lizzie would go running across the marble floors of our home to rip open the door whenever Libby arrived for dinner. She’d catapult herself into Libby’s arms and hug her tightly, the two of them smiling until it hurt. Lizzie would talk her ear off and Libby took it in stride, answering all of her questions as if they were the most important thing in the world.
And her bond with the boys was priceless. She never hesitated to take them and change them if I was busy with something. She learned her way around the house quickly and would do things like get them sippy cups full of milk and put them in their playpens. When they cried, she would jump to figure out what was wrong. When they yawned, she wouldn’t hesitate to take them both upstairs and bed them down early. She was the first to volunteer herself for bath time an
d even bought these tablets that made the water the boys were in change colors.
Libby had no idea how naturally this all came to her, and every time she was around I saw the mother in her emerge.
Libby tucked my daughter tightly underneath the covers before coming to turn out the light. She smiled up at me before she shut the door, then the two of us were alone in the hallway. The past four weeks with her had been phenomenal. We had family dinners at my house so the kids could get to know her, then we’d cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie with a milkshake or something her stomach could tolerate. She was starting to tip into her second trimester, so her nausea was abating. But not by much. There were still moments where I could call her to talk and I could tell she had just been sick.
I hated it for her. I wanted to take it all away from her and shoulder it myself.
“How was tucking in the boys?” Libby asked.
“They’re the easy ones. Lizzie’s the high-maintenance child,” I said.
“She doesn’t seem high-maintenance to me. Brushing her teeth, picking out pajamas, picking out a book to read and snuggling underneath the covers is pretty straightforward.”
“I put the boys in pants and lay them down with blankets,” I said.
“Then you simply don’t understand how a girl works,” she said, giggling.
“I knew enough to snag someone like you.”
“Well, don’t make it sound so romantic,” she said flatly.
“Come on,” I said, chuckling. “There’s raspberry sorbet waiting for us downstairs.”
I took Libby’s hand in mine and guided her back downstairs. Every once in a while, I caught her gawking at my home. Compared to what she lived in, it was pretty outlandish. Hell, compared to what everyone lived in, it was pretty outlandish. But I wanted a space my kids could bring all their friends to and not feel like I was breathing down their necks. I also wanted a place where I felt the kids could roam without ruining my space. It worked for us, even though it seemed bombastic and overdone to most.
Her favorite room of my house so far was the library. It sat at the back of the house and was completely off limits to the kids. They had their own little library with age-appropriate books of all kinds—coloring books with crayons taped to the inside and cardboard picture books, children’s poetry books and those little puppet books that had all the things the boys could touch and feel and explore.
Quadruplets Make Six Page 10
