Nine Months Later
Had I known Sassy would need to deal with pregnancy and the rigors of the police academy at the same time, I might’ve attempted to veto our training cycle and earned myself an ass-kicking from my wife. Had I know she would go into labor during the graduation ceremony, which included our entire class of six lycanthropes, I wouldn’t have bothered to leave bed. I would’ve stayed home, kept Sassy home, and left her in the capable hands of our mothers before our trip to the hospital.
According to my mother, my job was to accept I’d have a broken hand by the end of the delivery and do my best to convince Sassy our firstborn children weren’t actually going to claw their way out of her belly and take over the world from birth.
I really needed to curtail her enjoyment of watching horror movies before bed. Every time she watched one, she concocted a new way our children would kill us all.
Twelve hours later, the twins we expected made their appearance along with one extra, a tiny boy who wanted nothing to do with being born. He voiced his complaints over his eviction from her belly in screams confirming he had healthy lungs. Our twins, the daughters neither of us had truly anticipated, cried as well, although they were easier to please.
They wanted their mother to nurse them immediately, and they were not having anything to do with the nurses who wanted to check their health. To my amusement, the babies won, although Sassy ultimately needed her mother’s help getting both babies situated and cradled while they drank for the first time.
As though accepting his fate as the custodian of two sisters, Maxwell waited his turn for a chance to nurse with admirable patience, and gave Joe and the nurses time to measure him, check him over, and otherwise confirm he had all of his pieces in the right place.
All things considered, I could only think of one thing to say. “I’m so sorry.”
The look Sassy shot me promised retribution later. “You’re exactly fifty percent to blame for this, Mr. Clinton.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I’m at least seventy-five percent to blame for this. The blue shoes are taking the other twenty-five percent, as you’re faultless.” I regarded my hand, wondering if she’d ever release it but decided I didn’t mind. When she let go, I’d need Joe to put my hand back together. Until she wanted me attending to my new fatherly duties, I’d stay where I was and do my duty as primary hand holder.
I had no idea how we’d manage caring for three infants completely dependent on us, but I was relieved neither of us was expected to begin working for three months. When we tested our new lives as cops, our parents would take up the roles as spoilers of grandchildren.
It still amazed me we’d managed to cram eighteen months’ worth of education into eight months.
“You’re so full of shit, Aaron,” she whispered, and as I’d been warned, her exhaustion left her shaking and ready to check out of life for a while. My next job would be to keep her awake long enough to bond with our babies.
Smiling, I leaned over her and kissed her cheek. “You’re perfect, and so are they, but you have mommy duties to attend to. After our voracious daughters are satisfied, little Maxwell needs a turn.”
“How’d we end up with three?” Sassy shrugged. “Oh, well. What’s one extra?”
I wouldn’t remind her we’d never sleep again from my understanding of the situation. We weren’t going to be sleeping with twins. Triplets would drive us to the limits of our sanity. “Exactly. What’s one extra? I think we’ll manage just fine,” I lied. “There are four eager grandparents with like a million kids between them who’d just love to babysit for us.”
My parents sighed while Sassy’s parents laughed.
“You’re right. Totally right. Now, I do believe we have an argument to resume, Mr. Aaron Clinton, as our entire list of boy names is now completely fucking useless!”
“If you’re expecting me to be apologetic that we have two daughters as beautiful as you, you’re going to be very disappointed.”
“Aaron,” she growled.
I smiled, lifted her hand, and kissed her knuckles. “Next time, please don’t break every bone in my hand, okay?”
“Next time? Next time? Why are you already thinking about next time? And what the hell are you talking about? I didn’t break your hand.”
Joe, deliverer of his newborn nieces and nephew, laughed from the doorway. “You broke his hand, but he’s been a great sport about it. I will say this much, though. Damn, woman. Next time Dad needs a vice, I’ll just tell him to talk to you.”
“The instant I can get up, you’re a dead man, Joe,” she snarled.
“He’s teasing you, Sassy. You’re fine, I’m fine, and the babies are fine. That’s all that matters.” The start of the rest of my life filled the room, and Sassy graced me with a tired smile. “Please don’t kill Joe. I need him to put my hand back together,” I teased.
“You will regret that, Aaron.”
“But will you make me regret it while you’re wearing the blue shoes? It’s important.”
“You are so lucky the babies are nursing, Aaron. So. Lucky.”
Yes, I was.