She gave him credit for trying not to panic, but he shot up so suddenly, he lost his balance, and stumbled backwards into the pond.
Alex came up sputtering and muddy, and Maggie had to laugh, despite the band of pain squeezing her womb. "This looks vaguely familiar."
He climbed out, grabbed her, and kissed her solidly. "Just don’t sit on me this time. You might crush me."
Her outrage faded under another contraction, and concern replaced the teasing glint in Alex’s eyes. Gran appeared, took one look at the situation, and smacked Alex on the arm. "Get a move on it, son, or you’ll be delivering your own baby."
Alex paled considerably, then helped Maggie up the slight incline. Gran followed, smiling through her tears. "Told you left knee ache meant true love," she whispered.
Hours later, Alex cradled his sleeping daughter. He stood next to his wife’s hospital bed and watched Maggie count the fingers of their son.
"Ten toes and ten fingers," said Maggie.
"Twenty digits all together then," he said, still reeling from the surprise delivery of twins.
Maggie kissed the top of her son’s fuzzy head. "Do you think we can get a patent?"
Alex laughed, so filled with joy, he wanted to dance with his future ballerina. His daughter’s eyes drifted open. She yawned, waved her tiny wrinkled fist, then stared at the man holding her.
"Hello, Vicky," he said, touching her smooth, soft cheek. "I’m your daddy."
He leaned close to Maggie. "This is your mommy. And this little guy," he continued, showing Vicky her blanket-wrapped sibling, "is your brother...Elvis."
The End
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Husband For Hire Page 12