Reed stood in the nursery—the twins’ nursery—marveling at tiny Dylan and Daniel. Five days ago Norah had given birth to the seven-pounders, Dylan four ounces bigger and three minutes older. Both had his dark hair and Norah’s perfect nose, slate-blue eyes that could go Norah’s hazel or his dark brown, and ten precious fingers and ten precious toes.
Norah was next door in the triplets’ nursery, reading them their favorite bedtime story. Soon they’d be shifting to “big kid” beds, but at barely two years old they were still smack in the middle of toddlerhood. He smiled at the looks they’d gotten as they’d walked up and down Main Street yesterday, Norah pushing the twins’ stroller and him pushing the triplets’.
“How do you do it?” someone had asked.
“Love makes it easy,” Reed had said. “But we have a lot of help.”
They did. Norah’s family and the Potterowskis had set up practically around-the-clock shifts of feeding them, doing laundry and entertaining the triplets the first couple of days the twins were home. Many of their students from the past year had also popped by with gifts and offers to babysit the triplets, couples eager to get some first-hand experience at handling multiples.
Even the Dirks had come by. David and a very pregnant Eden—expecting twins without having ever said “I do” at the Wedlock Creek chapel.
“I’ve got this,” David had said, putting a gentle hand on his wife’s belly. “I thought I’d be scared spitless, but watching you two and taking your class—easy peasy.”
Reed had raised an eyebrow. David might be in for the rude awakening he’d been trying to avoid, but Reed wasn’t about to burst his bubble. They’d have help just like the Barellis did. That was what family and friends and community were all about.
Norah came in then and stood next to him, putting her arm around him. “The triplets are asleep. Looks like these guys are close.”
“Which means we have about an hour and a half to ourselves. Movie?”
She nodded. “Jerry Maguire is on tonight. Remember when we watched that?”
He would never forget. He put his arms around her and rested his forehead against hers. “Did I ever tell you that you complete me?”
She shook her head. “You said it was nonsense.”
“Didn’t I tell you I was an idiot? You. Complete. Me. And so do they,” he added, gesturing at the cribs. “And the ones in the room next door.”
She reached up a hand to his cheek, her happy smile melting his heart. Then she kissed him and they tiptoed out of the nursery.
But Dylan was up twenty minutes later, then Daniel, and then the triplets were crying, and suddenly the movie would have to wait. Real life was a hell of a lot better, anyway.
Keep reading for an excerpt from A Matchmaker’s Challenge by Teresa Southwick.