Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Her breathing is soft. Steady. And her heartbeat thumps against my chest. I can easily say I have never known this much love and warmth. Within seconds, she’s already stolen my heart and I’m okay if she keeps it until the end of time.
Her tiny fist unclenches, and those razor-sharp baby nails dig into my skin. I slide my finger under talons and let her hang onto my finger. I close my eyes and dream of what it’s going to be like to watch her and her brothers grow up. Then I try to imagine what it’s going to be like when I have my own someday.
I hold her tighter, relishing the cadence of our hearts beating together.
“Thank you,” I say to the two men sitting next to me. They hum in response, completely lost in their own euphoria.
I hear chatter around me but can’t decipher if it’s in my dream or if there are people talking around me. When the voices continue, I groggily open my eyes and see my sister for the first time and smile. Peyton eyes me suspiciously.
I shrug. “She’s my first niece. She’ll need me to keep the boys away.”
“Won’t her brothers do that?”
“Sure, when they’re older.” Someone is going to have to pry this baby from my hands. “She looks like you and Elle, it’s in my nature to protect her.”
Peyton’s lower lip quivers. “I appreciate you.”
Reluctantly, I stand and take a few steps toward her. I lean down, making sure to hold onto my niece as if my life depends on it. “I’m so damn proud of you,” I tell her and kiss her forehead.
The nurse comes in and smiles softly. “Okay, gentlemen, I think mama wants some time with her boys.”
She said boys and since I have the only girl, I don’t move. Peyton makes the mistake of asking Liam and our dad what they’re going to be called, and these two old fogies get into a tit for tat on who is going to be the cooler grandpa.
News flash, old men, it’s all about the cool uncle.
“Shut the f—” my dad stops himself before dropping the f-bomb in the nursery. “Let’s go round up our wives while we discuss the level of coolness you think you have.” My dad puts his hand on Liam’s shoulder and give him a slight push. “Quinn.”
“But—” I protest and then sigh. “Here’s your daughter,” I mumble as I hand her over to Peyton. “This isn’t fair.” I reach for my shirt before muttering, “Someone has to go back on tour,” in a high-pitched voice meant to sound like my mean manager.
“I’ll miss you,” Peyton says as I kiss her cheek.
“Thank God for FaceTime.”
“Okay, we’ll be out in a bit, to tell everyone their names.”
“One better be Quinn,” I say, laughing. I’m sure one isn’t, but it doesn’t hurt to put a bid in on naming rights.
Out in the hallway and take a photo of myself, still in the hospital, looking tired but happy. I send it to Justine with the caption:
Uncle to three perfect humans.
Her response comes seconds later.
Justine Floyd
They’re lucky to have you. You look surprisingly good for someone who’s been up all night.
I smile.
Runs in the family.
Justine Floyd
When do you head back?
Shortly.
Justine Floyd
Can’t wait to see you.
Those five words stir something unexpected in my chest—a fluttering, a warmth. I type several responses, delete them all, and finally settle on:
Me too.
Finally, Peyton, Noah, and the incubator holding the triplets appears in the waiting room, which I’ve learned has been reserved just for our family.
“We have names,” Peyton says as she beams at Noah. “No comments from the gallery if you don’t like them. We do and they’re fitting.”
“Baby A, our oldest is Maverick Liam Westbury.”
They let Maverick’s name settle onto his gramps. Liam wipes at his eyes and nods.
“Baby B,” Peyton continues as she looks at our dad. “Is Jace Harrison Westbury.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” mom blurts out. “I thought you were going to call him Harry Westbury and I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. The poor boy would’ve been teased relentlessly.”
Peyton looks at Noah and blanches.
“And my niece?” I ask.
“You know her middle name’s Elle unless Peyton did me a solid and named her first born daughter after her lovely sister,” Elle says as she bumps my shoulder with hers.
I scoff. “Maybe Quinnella,” I say.
“Please no,” mom says and then covers her mouth.
“Our little girl is Juniper Elle Westbury.”
“Yes,” Elle says as she fists pumps. “I told you!” She jabs her finger at me. “Wait, Juniper? Not Elle? I mean I knew Elle was in there, but I really thought—”
“Juniper,” Peyton says. “We’ll call her Junie or Junie Elle. I didn’t want to call her Ellie, and she needs her own identity.”
“I love it,” Elle says.
I feel a rush of emotion at the names, at the way they honor our family while creating something new. Those emotions become almost unbearable as I take one last look at my nephews and niece. I lean down and take another picture of them.