Epilogue
Five Years Later AmosLove looks at me worried, as her mother, on the loveseat in our bedroom, groans in pain. I open the doors of the dresser quickly, tossing some essentials into a bag. This should’ve been done already, and I internally chastise myself that it’s not. Alma’s four weeks early, having just hit the thirty-six-week mark yesterday. We knew that twins usually come early, but neither of us thought they’d arrive a month early.
“Dad,” Love says, fear in her voice. “Is this normal? Is Mom going to be okay? Are the babies going to be okay?”
I close the dresser drawer and turn to her, pressing my palm to her cheek. “She’s going to be fine, Lovie. This is very normal.” I chuckle. “She was just as vocal when she was having you. And the babies will be in great hands. Please,
