by Maggie Twain
“Mommy, Dadda, can I hab an ice cweam?” Arthur asks in his sweet, adorable little voice that just makes me want to melt. How could I possibly say no to him, especially when he looks just like his father.
We leave the surf and take seats in the shade of a restaurant veranda. Max and I hold hands as we watch our two little ones scooping spoons of strawberry ice cream into their mouths.
Max and I still can’t take our eyes, or hands, off each other, and as we enjoy these little moments with our family, I’m once again struck by how lucky I am. We have everything we could ever want but none of the material stuff matters one jot. When it’s all done, it’s these moments I’ll remember, not the vacations or the houses or the cars or the yachts but the sitting down with those who I love, even as Albert dribbles pink down his chin and I have to wipe it clean for him.
I think that this, here, now, is the happiest moment of my life.
I squeeze Max’s hand and glance over at those dreamy curls. “Alright, you can tell me.”
“What?” His eyebrows rise on his head. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “Yes but you’d better tell me quick before I change my mind.”
He smirks and I can tell what he’s thinking, that he wants them born so he can put yet more inside of me. “Hmmm, you know what, I think I’m going to keep it a secret.”
I grit my teeth and attempt to squeeze his hand but he just cracks up laughing instead. I guess I brought it on myself.
Even now, we still get on each other’s nerves and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Also by Maggie Twain
Surprise Billionaire
Saved by the Convict
Saved by the Cage Fighter
Unleashed: A Royal Romance: An English Prince At College
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