The wheels of the hospital chair hummed against the linoleum floors as the nurse pushed me down the quiet corridor toward the NICU. My fingers curled weakly in my lap, nails digging into the fabric of the blanket draped over me, as if anchoring myself to something tangible would stop the storm raging inside me.
Dom wasn’t here. And I was relieved. I couldn’t deal with his prying anymore. If I slipped up, even just a little bit, I’d ruin my plans for my daughters. The longer I was around him, the more chances I had to ruin things.
It was good that he was gone.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
That the night on the island had altered me forever. That he wasn’t just someone I had shared a passionate moment with—he was their father. Hell, that wasn’t even the worst part.
I had almost admitted the worst part to his face. The night on the island had left me shaken up, too. I had never experienced a connection like that. Not during my wild nights in culinary school when everyone hooked up with everyone else. Not with boyfriends in my past. I didn’t even know sex could be that good, or that I could feel that way, let alone with someone I didn’t know.
The truth clawed at my throat, desperate to be set free, but I had to swallow it back down. I had to be strong. Because if Dom found out, everything would change.
I could not handle another change thrown at me.
But then a sickening question oozed into my brain. Would he hate me for keeping them from him? My heart clenched painfully, but I forced my breathing to stay even. I couldn’t afford to think like that.
I had made my decision. I had to put my babies first. Not whatever stupid thing my heart wanted. Not some dream of what could have been. Telling Dom would ruin everything.
It would ruin him.
He had a reputation and a respected career—two, really, between working at this hospital and owning some medical company. He had a life that didn’t have room for an unexpected scandal. He also had a son who already had complicated feelings about him.
If word got out that he had unknowingly fathered twins with his son’s ex?
His world would crumble.
And what would it do to my girls?
They deserved stability. Not a fractured family. Not a potential courtroom battle over custody. Not a father who might only be in their lives out of duty rather than love.
I refused to put them through that. I refused to be a bad mom like mine.
People always ask chefs things like, who taught you to cook? I usually smiled and said my grandmother and spun some story about a loving memory of warm chocolate chip cookies and crocheted doilies.
There was no point in telling them that I taught myself how to cook because my mom was never home long enough to feed me. That she was too busy running scams or gambling to help me with homework or make sure we had groceries. That I learned how to steal to keep from starving.
I had grown up without love or support, and I swore I would never let my daughters feel that kind of loneliness. That they would never know hunger. I would be enough for them.
I had to be.
So why was my mind still stuck on Dom, on the way he had looked at me before leaving?
He had wanted to stay. I could feel it.
As the nurse wheeled me down the hall toward the NICU, she asked, “All right, Miss Green, ready to meet your little girls?”
I let out a breathy sigh, shaking my head. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Goodbye, Dom.
Goodbye to the man whose touch still haunted me, to the man who had changed everything with one night. Goodbye to the what-ifs, to the stupid dreams I’d let linger in the corners of my mind.
I let the grief swallow me. Silent and deep.
But the second the nurse opened the NICU doors, grief took a backseat.
The world shrank to the soft hum of machines and the two impossibly tiny beings in front of me.
My daughters.
My breath caught. My heart stuttered. They were perfect.
The incubators cast a warm, gentle glow around their tiny bodies. Their little fists curled at their sides, and tufts of dark curls peeked out from beneath their hats. Their faces were scrunched in delicate frowns, like they were already displeased with this big, bright world.
My throat closed around a sob. I reached instinctively, as if the distance between us was unbearable.
“They’re beautiful,” the nurse whispered. “Would you like to hold one?”
I could only nod.
The moment my daughter was placed against my chest, the world reset. The chaos, the fear, the ache for Dom—all of it evaporated.
Her tiny body melted into me. Fragile but fierce. I felt her breathing sync with mine, like her soul already knew me.
“Oh God,” I choked out, tears falling freely. “Hi, baby. Hi.”
She let out a tiny mewl, curling closer.
“I—I was thinking of naming them now.”
The nurse smiled warmly. ‘That’s a wonderful idea.’
I kissed the soft fuzz atop her head. “Marissa Claire.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks as I looked at my other daughter, still resting in the incubator. “And that’s Summer Paloma.”
The names settled over me like a promise.
Marissa. Summer. My girls. My family.
They were my lifeline, my second chance. I would give them everything I’d never had.
I pressed my lips to Marissa’s head again, letting her warmth seep into my bones. “You’ll never go hungry. You’ll never feel unloved. I swear.”
The storm inside me softened, replaced by sunshine. A quiet, pure joy.
For the first time since finding out I was pregnant, I felt certain.
The road ahead would be tough, but I could handle it.
I was tougher than the road.
