The past few days were a blur of feedings, diaper blowouts, and stealing scraps of sleep between the twins’ chaotic schedules. Everyone said twins synced up.
Liars.
Since leaving the hospital, I’d discovered more lies. Leak-proof diapers? Spill-proof lids? Sleep hacks that guaranteed rest? Total crap.
I’d told myself bringing them home would feel like running dinner service during a rush—fast, intense, thrilling.
It wasn’t.
It was exhausting and terrifying. How did I convince myself I could do this alone? Was it confidence or just plain stupidity? Either way, it didn’t matter. Because this chaos? This was everything. Marissa and Summer were my everything.
I’d prepped my apartment down to the last duckie detail, arranged their nursery a hundred times, and mapped out every possible contingency. None of it prepared me for the sheer tidal wave of love that hit every time I looked at them. One glance at their tiny faces and I’d get choked up, full to bursting in the best, messiest way.
Still, it was hard.
I was still healing—still wrecked. No one tells you how brutal just going to the bathroom will be after birth. The cramps, the sore boobs, the bone-deep exhaustion? A whole new level of wrecked.
And as much as I adored my girls, I missed myself.
Cooking had always been my anchor, my fire. Now, the only thing I “cooked” came from my own breasts. And burp cloths were my new wardrobe staple. Meals? A rotation of half-eaten sandwiches between naps. My life no longer revolved around plating scallops at Suivante but around tiny, perfect babies and counting how many hours they slept.
Thank God for Carrie.
She had been my rock since the second I was discharged from the hospital, shuffling me and the babies home with an efficiency that only she could manage. She had coordinated a food delivery from the restaurant—because as much as I loved to cook, I barely had time to shower, let alone make a meal. Those had been my first real meals since the hospital.
She had even taken charge of bedtime for the night, helping me wrangle my newborns into their bassinets while I sat on the edge of the bed, still adjusting to the reality that this was my life now.
Once the girls were finally down, Carrie reappeared in the doorway, arms crossed, her smile firm. “Well,” she said, lowering herself onto the couch beside me, “that only took an hour longer than it should have.”
I let out a tired laugh. “They do seem to enjoy making me work for it.”
Carrie grinned. “Can’t imagine where they get that from.”
I smirked, nudging her with my foot. “Don’t start.”
She leaned back against the cushions, stretching her arms over her head. “So, are you feeling like a real mom yet?”
“More like an underpaid dairy cow.”
Carrie snorted. “Well, I’d offer you a raise, but you’re technically on leave.”
My heart clenched at that. “How’s everything at the restaurant?”
Carrie’s face lit up. “Chaotic as always. We had a vendor screw up a fish order yesterday, so I had to talk Jean off a ledge. He was two seconds away from going full French rage and storming into their warehouse with a cleaver.”
I sighed wistfully. Jean’s rants were legendary—a mix of French curse words, broken turns of phrase in English, a sprinkling of German, and a dash of Japanese. The man had been around the world with the Peace Corps, decided it was too nice, and went to culinary school, where he was disappointed by the laidback nature of other chefs. When he came to Suivante, he demanded rigid order in the kitchen.
I missed Jean and his rants and the way he’d throw a knife into the wall when he was annoyed. It always freaked out the new hires. Good times.
I whined, “No chance I can do the job with those two greedy girls strapped one to a boob, right?”
“You will be back,” she reminded me, nudging me gently. “It just takes time.”
“I know,” I said, but my chest ached at the uncertainty in my own voice. “It just feels…different now.”
Carrie studied me for a moment before asking, “Still thinking about Chicago?”
I hesitated, rubbing my fingers along the hem of my sleeve. “It’s on hold. After everything that happened…I don’t know. Nearly dying tends to make you rethink your choices.”
“It really was that close, wasn’t it?”
“If I hadn’t gotten to the hospital when I did…” If Dom hadn’t been my surgeon… “I’m not sure if I’d be around for my girls. Or if they would have made it…”
She patted my leg. “Don’t even think about it. Everyone is here and healthy. That’s what you need to focus on now. Not the what-ifs of it all, you hear me?”
I nodded and tried to let her words reassure me, but the thought had crept into the back of my mind and taken up residence. The nurses had thought I was asleep at one point and talked about how lucky I was. That if I’d lost another pint of blood before getting there, we wouldn’t have made it.
I let out a slow breath, nodding. The idea of leaving the city still felt like the right move, but something inside me had shifted. The urgency to run away from home had faded. “I’m not sure if Chicago will ever happen after everything.”
“Have a little faith in yourself, Ella. If you want it, you’ll make it happen. I know you. There’s nothing you can’t make happen.” Before Carrie could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. “Expecting someone?”
I shook my head and stood, moving carefully as I made my way to the door. These days, I always had to walk gingerly, or I might tear a stitch.
When I opened the door, though, there was no one there—just a massive gift basket on my welcome mat taking up part of the hallway, wrapped in pink cellophane and tied with an elegant gold bow. The thing was as tall as me.
Carrie let out a low whistle. “Damn. They really are that huge.”
I knelt and ran my fingers over the attached envelope. Who the hell would have done this? I flashed a curious smile at her. “Is this from you?”
“I’m generous, but I’m not that generous. That’s the Platinum Lollipop Welcome Basket Extraordinaire. My sister-in-law got the Platinum Lollipop Welcome Basket Remarkable from her husband and complained she didn’t get this one, even though the Remarkable basket was named right. It was stuff like this one, but about half the size. Nothing’s ever good enough for Margo.” She rolled her eyes, then refocused them on the monster in front of us. “How the hell do we get this through the door?”
“I think we drag it.” With that, she dragged and I got out and shoved the thing into my apartment. It was more awkward than heavy, thankfully.
Once I closed the door, she asked, “Who would have sent it?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll check the card.” I ripped the envelope with all the excitement of a kid on Christmas. Whoever did this, I owed them a big thank you. There was champagne in there. The good stuff. The card was thick and stiff, clearly a pricy one. It had a silver baby rattle on the front.
When I flicked it open, everything stopped.
Dom.
Dom had sent this.
A lump formed in my throat. I didn’t know what to think. Why would he do this? After our talk in the hospital, I hadn’t seen him again. I was too focused on the babies to think about him, but even more than that, I had to put him out of my mind, or I’d break down and tell him everything.
Why send me an oversized baby basket?
“Who’s name is on the card?” Carrie asked, shaking me from the thought.
“The nurses sent it,” I blurted out the lie. “They doted on the girls the entire time we were there. And me. They said I was one of their best patients, and the girls were even better. I figured they said that to all the patients. But I guess they wanted to spoil them.”
“That’s sweet of them.”
I nodded quickly, heart hammering as I untied the bow, peeling away the wrapping. Inside among the champagne bottles was a collection of baby essentials—organic cotton onesies, soft blankets, tiny socks, and plush toys. French-milled chamomile soaps. Two of everything, bare minimum. There were bottles of baby shampoo, delicate lavender-scented lotions, even a small, hand-knitted hat in each of my daughters’ names.
But at the very bottom, buried beneath all the thoughtful gifts, was something that made my breath catch.
A pink plastic mermaid.
The same mermaid that had once hung from the rim of my cocktail on the island.
I had forgotten all about it.
But he hadn’t.
He had kept it.
My fingers trembled as I closed around the tiny figurine, my chest tightening.
Beneath it was a small card with his number scrawled across it.
His phone number.
I stared at it, unsure what to do.
“What else is in there?” Carrie asked, peering over.
I quickly slid the mermaid and the card into my palm and tucked them into my sweater pocket. I forced a smile. “Just more blankets.” I grabbed one and held it up.
She nodded approvingly. “The nurses went all out. I’ll have to tell my other friends to have babies at Seth’s hospital.”
“Right. Seth’s hospital.” The most dangerous place in the world for me happened to be the place that saved me and my daughters. Conflicted was not a strong enough word for how I felt about that place.
Later, after Carrie had left and the apartment had gone quiet, I sat alone in the dim light of my living room, staring at the cheap plastic mermaid in my hand.
I was still in contact with some of the restaurants in Chicago to keep my options open. Dom’s number felt like a weight in my pocket. I wanted to dial it. I wanted to tell him everything and let the chips fall where they may. But I also wanted Chicago for my girls.
There was no debating it really. I wanted to be the best mom I could, which meant I couldn’t afford to be hung up on some guy I had one night with almost nine months ago. No matter how he made me feel.
But as I turned the tiny plastic mermaid over between my fingers, my thoughts shifted. Back to the island. Back to who I was that night. Before babies, before knowing who Dom was, before things became real.
That was the odd thing about vacation sex. It was amazing, in part, because you knew it was temporary. Flings had an air of magic to them. This liminal thing barely existed in reality yet gave life so much meaning.
Thoughts of Chicago had faded. I was wondering about Dom.
The one who got away.
I fingered the edge of the card with his number on it. So many possibilities on such a small piece of paper.
A cry broke out in the other room, and I was on my feet before I knew what I was doing. By the time I reached the bassinets, I remembered why I needed Chicago in the first place.
No matter what I thought about Dom, my girls had to come first.
