"What?" he yelped, sitting up to punch lightly at Grayson's shoulder. Well of his patience had suddenly run dry at the thought of having Eve back with him. "Grayson, I want my daughter back in my arms in five minutes, or so help me..."
"Make it three minutes," Grayson promised with a grin.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Grayson staggered into Wyatt's room in the darkest hours of the night, the seventy-two hours after he'd given birth.
"Wyatt," he gasped.
Instantly Wyatt was awake and sitting up in bed. He shot a swift glance at his daughter, who was sleeping like a log in the cradle an arm's length away. Her cheeks were flushed with rosy pink health, not fever. "What is it?"
Grayson's eyes were wild. Fierce. Fear, instant and paralyzing, gripped Wyatt. He had let himself fall in love with Eve and now...
Then, Grayson shook his head. His face broke out into a smile. "It's official. Wyatt, there's no sign of the activated Flu."
"No sign..." He didn't quite understand. He'd been so prepared for bad news. "What? How... How is that possible?"
Grayson shook his head again, almost laughing. "The genetic tests came back. She has the same remains of the Flu circling in her body, as we do, but it hasn't activated. She has a natural immunity, just like us."
"My God. Are you sure?" It would hurt more if he allowed himself to hope, only for everything to go all wrong.
But Grayson crumpled against him, laughing so hard that he actually started sobbing. For once, Wyatt had to hold him up, and he found he was definitely up for the task.
"She's going to be okay," Grayson said. "Our baby is going to be okay..."
Wyatt closed his eyes, held Grayson to his chest, and let himself believe it, too.
Epilogue
The shrieking of overly excited toddlers filled the air, mixed with splashing water and whining about toys.
Wyatt tilted his sunglasses down his nose and aimed a well-worn look of warning. "Eve, share with your cousin."
"No!" the three-year-old yelped happily, holding her favorite rubber ducky over her head. Her vocabulary was growing by leaps and bounds every day, but 'no' was still her favorite word.
Tyson, six months younger, and a touch shorter reached for the toy, but could not quite grasp it. The whimpering sounds he was making was edging onto a full blown tantrum.
Rolling his eyes, Wyatt started to rise from his seat. Tyler stopped him, appearing like magic from the back of the kitchen.
"Popsicles are ready!" he called and was immediately set on by a horde of shrieking children—all of who were playing around the Ranch's shallow pool, and who were old enough to walk.
Struggle over the toy forgotten, Eve and Tyson ran over. Tyler winked at his son and handed him his favorite flavor—cherry red, and Eve's to her: she loved anything blue.
Standing from his lounge chair, Wyatt came over to help pass out Popsicles and wrangle the kids. All the mother took turns helping out in communal playtime and activities, but Wyatt was there more often than not. Tyler's training had allowed him to transition to the genetics department in the Ranch after his son was born. Wyatt, however, was happy to help raise the kids. He was good at it.
"I thought Grayson was supposed to be here," Tyler said. "I gotta talk to him about a deviation on one of our tests."
"Thomas was showing signs of pre-labor last night," Wyatt said easily. "Grayson's his doctor. So."
He didn't mind sharing Grayson's time—he was happy that Thomas had gotten his wish, picked in the third round of the Lottery. The ultrasound showed he was expecting a girl.
Along with Eve, there were a few female children in the thirty-odd that the Ranch supported. But every new birth was cause for more celebration.
Wyatt smiled to himself, and out of force of habit kept from touching his belly. Tyler would see, and then he would know.
Popsicles in hand, some of the kids tried toddling back to the pool. Wyatt and Tyler and a few of the other mothers were busy wrangling them, wiping colored juice off faces, and reapplying sunscreen when needed.
It was hard, trying work. Wyatt loved every minute of it.
His own daughter was last—she was a surprisingly neat eater. Must have gotten it from her father—and only had a couple drips that needed to be cleaned from her chin.
"Daddy!" she called, pointing. "Daddy's here!"
Wyatt followed her gaze and grinned when he saw Grayson striding across the sun-warmed concrete.
"How's Thomas?" Wyatt called.
"False alarm," he said and bent to scoop up the excited girl. He dotted a kiss on Wyatt's cheek in greeting. "Still a couple days to go, by our estimation."
"Daddy! I ate a popsicle!" Eve cried. "And a bug!"
Grayson snorted and raised his eyebrows at Wyatt, who grinned back.
"I didn't see a bug." She was three, and was developing an active imagination.
Grayson grinned and ruffled her dark, fine hair. "That's good protein." Then he settled her down. She ran, shrieking, to the sandbox.
"How are you?" Grayson asked, lower to Wyatt.
This time he did smile and touch his belly. "We're doing fine. No morning sickness. Looks like I'm on the upswing."
"I guess it's true what they say. Two is easier than one."
Wyatt chuckled and finally gave into the urge to touch his belly. He could imagine the little lives sleeping safely inside. Twins, though it would be a few months until they knew the genders.
Standing side by side with Grayson, their fingers laced loosely together Wyatt watched their daughter play and imagined two others alongside her. He couldn't wait to meet them.
End.
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this book, and would appreciate it if you took the time to leave a review.
~ Gonna
Also by Genna Donaghy
Touch Me Not
The Silver Dragon’s Slave
Having His Cake
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A Baby Maybe Page 10