The Good Twin's Baby

by Vivien Vale

  “Can I get you some water or anything?” Carter places his hand on the small of my back and looks up at me with adoration.

  “Sure, that would be nice.”

  I’m sweating like a pig, but I’m sure it has more to do with my massive size and the fact that I’m carrying around two humans than the temperature outside.

  Everyone else seems comfortable, and they look like they’re having a freaking blast.

  It’s the perfect wedding, and I feel like if I pinch myself, I might wake up from the most fantastic dream of my life.

  I’m sitting in a white folding chair at our table as Carter walks over from the bar. He graciously extends a hand to hold out a crisp, ice cold water bottle.

  “Thank you,” I tell him gratefully, and place the bottle to my cheek before twisting off the top and taking an enormous chug. “Ahh, that’s refreshing as hell.”

  Carter laughs and strokes my cheek. “You are absolutely fucking adorable. Have I ever told you that?”

  I pretend to ponder this question and then grin wildly. “You may have mentioned it once or twice.”

  I take a deep breath, full of contentment. Glancing around the reception tent, I notice my father and Carter’s father roaring with laughter and clinking their mugs of beer together like they’re medieval warriors who just became allies after winning a war together.

  Carter notices me staring at them with a grin. “Well, they sure look like they’re having fun.”

  “I think they’re drunk, but you’re totally right,” I admit. “They make a fantastic duo.”

  “It’s nice to see everyone getting along.” Carter takes a seat in a folding chair next to me and pats my knee. “How are you holding up?”

  “Aside from the fact that the babies are using my bladder as a squeeze toy?”

  Carter laughs.

  “Yeah, aside from that, I guess. It’s almost over, darling.”

  “Things are great,” I admit. “This is the best night of my life, and I couldn’t have dreamed it would be more perfect.”

  He leans in to give me another passionate kiss, filled with all the love in the world. It’s as if I’m weightless when his lips are on me, floating off into the atmosphere and beyond into a cloudy dreamland.

  When we come up for air, I point and belt into a fit of laughter.

  “What?” Carter looks up in confusion, trying to figure out what I found so darn comical at the moment.

  “Look at all your New York City friends.” I point, still giggling like a hyena.

  “What are they doing that’s so funny to you?” Carter is laughing himself, because, well you know…laughter tends to be infectious.

  “Look at them.” I point, giggling. “They’re trying to do the Cotton-Eyed Joe dance, but their choreography is way off.”

  “I didn’t realize you were a professional choreographer,” Carter teases me.

  “Hey, you never know. I might just turn out to be one of those crazy stage or dance moms,” I threaten playfully.

  “Don’t you dare.” Carter starts tickling my sides, and I start laughing harder.

  “Stop it!” I yell. “You’re going to make me pee…again.”

  “We don’t want to mess up that pretty wedding dress you have on, now, do we?” Carter eyes me as if he wants to rip it right off and plunge his face into my breasts.

  “Please.” I roll my eyes with sardonic flare. “You can’t possibly tell me you want me right now. I’m an elephant.”

  “You’re still fucking sexy to me.” Carter’s eyes twinkle with genuine appeal. Holy guacamole, he really does love me.

  I know I should know that by now, but it’s so nice to be reminded.

  “Thanks.” I lean in for a kiss, because he knows how to reel me in like a fish on a hook.

  We take in the festive atmosphere of the reception, and after a few minutes, I can’t help but shake my head. “They really are entertaining when they try to fit in.”

  “Who? My friends and family?” Carter asks.

  “Yup.”

  “Well, they just aren’t as cool as us, are they?” Carter laughs and pulls me close.

  “Nobody ever will be,” I admit in agreement, before scowling a second later.

  Carter furrows his brow. “What’s with the sour face?”

  “Oh, nothing, it’s just my ex-fiancé Kody over there.” I spit the words out as if they taste bitter on my tongue.

  It appears as if the whole town of Wheatfield, Nebraska is here for the wedding of the century…that’s what I’m officially declaring it.

  “Who’s that woman with him?” Carter asks with curiosity.

  “That’s Mary Beth Mayer, the town harlot,” I say sullenly.

  “Easy there, tiger,” Carter quips. “You don’t want to sound too jealous. After all, you just married the most eligible bachelor on the market.”

  I laugh again. Carter’s handsomeness is plain for anyone to see, but I’m continually taken with how adorable he is as well.

  “He looks miserable,” I notice with delight, then freeze. “Oh crap, he’s coming this way.”

  There’s no time for me to beeline it out of there—thanks to my size, I can’t even stand up from this seat without a significant amount of help.

  Kody approached us, looking apologetic. Mary Beth looms closely behind him.

  “Happy wedding day,” he says sheepishly. “I guess it would have been us if I hadn’t screwed up big time.”

  This statement gets Kody a smack on the back of his head that’s so loud I’m surprised his skull doesn’t cave in. Mary Beth’s hand hovers in the air after delivering the blow, and her face is frozen in a grimace.

  A few of the local policemen invited by my father perk up at the sound of the smack. They’re staring at us, looking ready to get up and involve themselves in this ridiculousness.

  I wave my hand to them, assuring them that Carter and I can handle this pair of idiots on our own.

  We don’t have time for this nonsense. We’re happily married adults and soon-to-be parents.

  I give Kody a look of annoyance. “Thanks,” I mumble and then look over at Carter. “Will you please help me up, darling?”

  “Absolutely,” Carter says with stoic nobility and takes me by the hand.

  “We were just leaving,” I tell Kody. I enjoy glaring at Mary Beth as my new husband and I head off to a private place.

  We’re newlyweds now, and we have newlywed business to attend to—regardless of how huge I am right now.

  The chemistry is still there, loud and clear, and I’ve never wanted Carter more than I do in this moment.

  Which is saying something.

  As the stars shine down upon the Earth from the clear Nebraskan sky, Carter and I share an everlasting love that can’t be shattered, no matter what comes our way.

  Chapter 39

  Carter

  I take a sip of coffee out of the Styrofoam cup and feel like spitting it out again. But it’s not the sort of thing you do in a hospital waiting room.

  “Tastes like crap,” I say. I take another sip, just to make sure my opinion was spot on.

  It is.

  “Hospital coffee is not supposed to taste any good, my friend,” replies Lawrence and slaps me on the shoulder.

  Instead of a reply, I continue my pacing. Up and down I walk, up and down, like one of those caged lions you see in the zoo.

  “How long has she been in there?” I ask, more to say something than expecting an answer.

  “Too long if you ask me,” replies Lawrence before joining me in my pacing.

  He looks about as stressed as I feel.

  “She’ll be alright,” he pats me on the back. “I know she’ll be alright.”

  The haggard look in his eyes and sincere attempts at reassurance tell me that Lawrence has eschewed any and all bullshit—at least for this occasion—and has become as real as I always hoped and knew he could be.

  This is my brother; I know who he really is. The L
awrence Abraham that most people know nowadays is only part of the picture, and a lot of it is made up of who he thinks he’s supposed to be.

  With that slap on the back and vaguely condescending coffee comment, I thought I might still be dealing with that Lawrence—which would be fine—but on a day like this one, my brother has neither time nor energy to be anyone but exactly who he is.

  I take another sip of my coffee.

  “Still tastes like crap, right?”

  “I’m not drinking it for the taste.”

  Lawrence nods, stopping himself from making a smart comment. More likely, he’s distracted, tired, frazzled and in disbelief that this is finally happening—in other words, he’s right here with me as I reach the peak of this crazy, incredible ride.

  The ride of a lifetime.

  Two lifetimes, actually.

  Holy crap. It’s like the news of it being twins is just hitting me for the first time, weeks later.

  Being in a hospital waiting room for hours on end will do that to you.

  Especially when it’s almost three o’clock in the morning.

  Especially when you just happened to be waiting for any news regarding the love of your life giving birth to your children.

  Twins.

  Holy goddamn shit.

  I barely even notice that I’m pacing, it’s become second nature. I do notice that Lawrence has taken up pacing as well, not even noticing when he almost bumps into me.

  Since my brother is helping me with pacing duty, I sit down and take another sip of coffee.

  This shit’s getting cold, and yes, it’s getting worse.

  Fuck it. I’ve got enough excitement and nervous energy to keep me awake well into the next day and beyond.

  “I can’t even choke this shit down anymore.”

  “I thought you didn’t care about the taste.”

  Lawrence is pacing intensely enough for both of us, but still he manages a smirk after his little remark.

  That’s my brother, too. He can’t help himself sometimes, and honestly, I’m happy he’s here. I could leap up and give him a giant bear hug.

  But he’s too busy pacing and laughing—with a bit of unhinged exhaustion.

  As I get up to rejoin Lawrence in the pacing party, I laugh, too. We both do, just for a few seconds, out of tiredness, anxiety, and a loopy acknowledgment for whatever joke Lawrence was trying to make.

  And, I’d like to think, appreciation of each other.

  Christ, I keep getting more and more fucking schmaltzy the longer this goes on. If we don’t hear some sort of news soon, I might end up turning into a fucking Hallmark card.

  Lawrence and I stomp back and forth silently for another nearly endless stretch of time before I decide to sit down again.

  Pacing’s not cutting it anymore. I’m about to jump out of my fucking skin.

  “Mr. Abraham?”

  “Oh, thank fucking Christ!”

  The exclamation shoots out of me before I could even see who was saying my name.

  There’s a kind-faced nurse who I think I remember from some point earlier tonight standing by the entrance.

  My heart is pounding like a fucking jackhammer, and it feels like time is sl—

  “Do you have any news about my sister in-law, about my brother’s babies? What’s going on?”

  My brother’s voice makes me legitimately jump out of my seat. For a moment, I forgot he was even here.

  “She’s doing fine.”

  The nurse’s voice sounds tinny and distant, and my body feels both weightless and ready to collapse on the floor.

  But my vision is as clear as ever, and I can see the nurse smiling at me warmly.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Abraham. Your wife has given birth to two healthy daughters.”

  The warm, rhapsodic sensation that rushes through me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  There’s a different sort of weightlessness now, a feeling like I could fly out the window and take a few laps around the fucking moon and back.

  Like a little kid overcome with excitement, I can’t help but look over to my brother in wide-eyed glee—and he’s looking back at me with the same expression.

  “Would you like to see your wife and daughters now, Mr. Abraham?”

  To say I’m at a loss for words is an understatement. Looking back at the nurse, it’s like someone removed the language center of my brain, and all I could do is stare with what must have been a dumb yet elated expression.

  The nurse’s smile grows knowingly. “Follow me, Mr. Abraham. Your wife is waiting.”

  “Can I come, too?”

  “Yes,” I respond to my brother. Maybe I haven’t gone mute, but I feel like something’s happening to me—or maybe everything is.

  The trip down the hallway, through a door, and down another is a blur. It’s like I’m floating more than walking, and I’m surprised to suddenly find myself in the delivery room.

  At first, all I see in the room is a large, blue hospital curtain. With theatrical flair, the nurse pushes the curtain away slowly to reveal my beautiful wife lying in bed.

  June is glowing and radiant. Although a cloud of exhaustion surrounds her face, her eyes are shining with euphoria. Her smile is subdued but also filled to the brim with a warmth I can feel from across the room.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she jokes in a tired but happy voice. “Don’t be shy. Come here and let me introduce you.”

  Introduce me?

  My eyes finally make their way down from June’s shining face, and for the first time…

  That sensation I felt in the waiting room was nothing compared to this.

  Seeing my children for the first time in my life, I can’t stop myself from gasping and grabbing my chest.

  I don’t think anyone could’ve seen that reaction coming.

  “Oh. They’re beautiful. They’re the most wonderful sight I’ve ever seen.”

  In this moment, it’s all I can say. It’s all I feel the need to say.

  So, I walk over to my wife to meet my new daughters.

  The floaty feeling is stronger than ever as I drift to her bedside. Time is playing tricks again, too, as the next thing I know I’m holding a tiny, magnificent angel, and then another, one in each arm.

  Their eyes are open, and they’re both looking in my direction calmly and happily.

  “She’s named after my mom.”

  I don’t know how, but I know exactly which of my daughters June is talking about.

  I look down at her, as her eyes seem to wander randomly around the room.

  My look shifts to my other daughter, lying so still, looking serene and content.

  “And she’s named after my mother,” I say.

  “Of course. Would you like to say hi, Lawrence?”

  I think it’s understandable that I forgot my brother was even there again.

  When I do look at him, his expression is joyful, but with a clear bittersweet undertone.

  “It’ll happen for you, too,” I tell my brother, carefully transferring both my newborn daughters to his arms, “if you want it to.”

  Lawrence doesn’t respond to me, but as he holds and beholds his nieces, there’s no doubt that he’s enthralled with them—and rethinking some of his own priorities.

  “Are those my granddaughters?”

  “Of course they are, Dad.” June sounds shockingly full of life as she answers her newly-arrived father.

  I turn to greet June’s dad, but he’s already standing next to my brother and staring so adoringly at his granddaughters that I know I’ll have to wait until later.

  As my brother and father in-law fawn over my newborn children, I sit down in a chair next to my gorgeous wife’s bed.

  “I’d say that contract worked out pretty well,” she comments.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  The room is brimming with happiness from everyone in it.

  “I’m also thinking,” I continue, “that I’d
love to do this again sometime.”

  June’s subdued smile widens a bit.

  “I like the way you think, Mr. Abraham. I could get used to being this happy.”

  Baby Bargain

  A Billionaire Baby Contract Romance

  By Vivien Vale

  Copyright © 2018 by Crimson Vixens

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Daniel

  If I’m not mistaken—and I rarely fucking am—I think my secretary is wearing a ball gag as a necklace today.

  “Sorry to bother you, sir,” she says, as that big red rubber ball jiggles against her throat.

  She’s tightened the leather straps up enough that it could reasonably be mistaken for a choker, but I’m not some uninitiated fuck—I didn’t exactly get my first erection yesterday.

  “Make it quick.” I don’t have time to question my secretary’s more-than-questionable fashion choices. If I don’t figure out why the columns on this report aren’t adding up by the end of the day, I won’t know which incompetent jackass in accounting to fire tomorrow morning.

  “It’s just, uh, your mother is here,” she informs me.

  And then, right on cue, my mother flounces in. Doesn’t even give me time to feel sorry for myself.

  “Danny, darling!” my mother coos, trotting into my office on a pair of peep-toe heels the color of cotton candy vomit. “How’s my favorite businessman? Give mommy a little smooch, that’s a good dear.”

  I roll my eyes—but I do as I’m bid. My mother is as vapid and air-headed as they come, but she’s still the woman who gave birth to me, and for that, she can have as many cheek-kisses as she wants. I just wish she’d stop fucking calling them smooches—and I wish she would have left Muffins the Purse Dog at home for once.