25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Lachlan

"Look, Thing One and Thing Two, don't get any crazy ideas about extending your reservation." Quinn's voice drifted out of the bedroom, as I carried a tray full of lunch up to him. "Management is shutting that idea down. There will be no extended stays."

I'd been horrified when, at our baby shower – the one Quinn said he absolutely, under no circumstances wanted – Wade had presented us with two tiny onesies, each printed with "Thing One" and "Thing Two" on them.

Wade had taken Quinn's numerous protests about having a shower and ignored every single one of them. Doing what Wade always did when people protested what he wanted to do. He just did what he wanted anyway.

He'd thrown a baby shower in our library, and I'd carried Quinn down and deposited him on the sofa. He'd held court, laughing and opening gift after gift, after gift – our family and friends had surely emptied every baby department within a fifty-mile radius – of tiny sleepers, socks, onesies, more blankets than I imagined ten babies would use, bottles and diapers .

Regardless of my horror at the Dr. Seuss themed onesies, the nicknames had stuck. Quinn had insisted, this way each baby had their own unique nickname before they were born. He'd decided it was much better than me calling them peanuts. I didn't see how it possibly was better, but I'd given up the fight on this particular issue. Pick your battles and all that.

I paused outside the open door, listening.

"Your check-out date is in a week. Feel free to exit the premises early. You've been trying to escape what I frankly would like to point out are five-star accommodations, so there shouldn't be any lollygagging going on now."

I bit my lip, in an attempt to stifle my snickers. I had no doubt Quinn knew I was out here. His cat ears were better than my wolf's on picking up sound most days, and I knew he could smell the grilled cheese I'd prepared.

I'd finally mastered that damn sandwich. Who knew something seemingly so simple, would be the most frustrating thing I'd tried my hand at making? Ever. I'd burned more bread and cheese than I wanted to ever admit to. Nothing smelled worse than scorched, blackened cheese, I'd found out. I had it down now, though, and made one hell of a scrumptious grilled cheese.

"Quit lurking out there," Quinn called. "I'm starving."

I placed the tray on the bedside table, watching as Quinn rubbed his hands over the huge mound that was his belly. He'd gained very little weight anywhere else, though his ass had filled out lusciously, but his stomach was stretched beyond my imagination. He'd whined when the vicious red marks had made an appearance, lining his skin from his belly button down towards his dick, but I found them stunning. Oh, they weren't pretty, but they were a mark of our pups thriving, and for that reason, I found them remarkable and beautiful .

"I wasn't lurking, I was eavesdropping. There's a difference." I handed him the plate of piping hot sandwiches, smiling when he placed it on his mound of stomach, and it balanced perfectly. He regarded me over the half sandwich he held, eyes shutting in bliss at the first mouthful of melted cheeses.

"Handing out eviction notices today, are we?" I grabbed a sandwich and made myself comfortable in the glider rocking chair I'd installed in our room last week. We had another in the nursery across the hall.

"Hmmmm, well, after all the trouble they've caused, I thought it best to make sure they understand they can come out anytime now." He huffed a little. "I'm surprised they're still in there, honestly. With all the scares, and Finn's many lectures on the statistics of twins, especially shifters, coming early," he rolled his eyes, "I figured they'd have made their debut by now. But nope," he popped his ‘p', "they're all snug in there, happy as little clams, quietly snoozing away."

He wasn't wrong in his logic. I'd half expected that they'd have arrived by now, too. But I was also happy if they wanted to stay in and bake as long as they needed. I knew Quinn was more than ready to be done. The bed rest had been hard on him, on both of us, but he'd borne the brunt of it.

Hiring the new baker, Jenna, had eased some of his worries, but I knew it was making him crazy giving up that much control of his first baby. Besides, bed rest got boring real fast. It sounded great in theory, but the reality sucked hard.

There are only so many shows, movies, books, and games you can play before becoming bored out of your mind. I quickly realized a bored Quinn was a cranky Quinn. Lying in bed all day, every day was not comfortable either, made even worse by his ever-growing belly.

I watched him squirm now, his face grimacing. "Back hurting again? "

It was his most constant complaint, and I spent a lot of time rubbing it for him. Not that I minded, I loved being at his beck and call. Cooking, cleaning, even doing the laundry in between zoom meetings and reading emails.

I could have hired someone, but I'd wanted to do it on my own the first couple of weeks, while we'd each gotten acclimated to the unplanned changes in our lives. My wolf hadn't been keen on the idea of letting other people near our mate and pups those first few weeks. I'd never imagined I would find it as calming as I did, cooking and cleaning, but it soothed my soul for some insane reason.

I figured my dad was tossing in his grave, but I didn't give it another thought. I was doing what made me happy, for the first time in forever, and I no longer heard my dad's voice in my head, telling me who I needed to be. How I needed to act.

It was incredibly freeing.

Quinn wiggled again, then stretched. "I may need to take a lap around the room."

He'd been getting up for short periods, doctor-approved, in the last month, especially when his muscles were aching. He dug his hand into his lower back. "Today seems worse than normal."

I helped him up, rubbing at his back while he leaned against me the best he could with his belly between us. He hissed as I hit a sore spot.

"Damn, is it possible to pull a muscle, lying in bed doing nothing? My back is killing me today."

I kissed the top of his curls, one of my favorite things to do, gently massaging along the wall of tight muscles of his lower back.

He sighed softly, yawning. "Does it make me a horrible person, if I say I'm ready to not be pregnant any longer? "

I chuckled against his soft curls. "I'm pretty sure that's a normal reaction."

"Good, because I'm really ready to meet these two."

"Me too."

I blinked my eyes open in the darkness, not sure what had woken me. I reached a hand out for Quinn and felt nothing but the sheet where my mate should have been. It was cold, no longer holding his warmth, which told me he hadn't been in our bed, where he belonged, for some time.

I instantly sprang up, my eyes scanning our bedroom. Even in the darkness, I could see well enough to know the room was empty.

I jumped up, not bothering with clothes or a robe. It was the end of June, and even with the AC on I wasn't cold.

I found him in the library, one of his favorite places to hang out. He'd been spending more time there in the last month. I'd carry him down and then head into my home office, after taking care of any household chores that needed to be done. I'd usually find him stretched out on the couch, book propped up on his round tummy, when I'd take a break. Oftentimes, I would just watch silently from the doorway, as one of the babies would be kicking, and the book would move gently when they pushed against it.

Quinn wasn't stretched out on the couch now, however. He was standing behind the large armchair next to the big window. Something seemed off with his posture, I just couldn't pinpoint what. I wanted to scold him for coming down on his own, but knew he must have had a good reason not to wake me.

I ran a hand over my face, trying to wake myself up. "Quinn?"

He didn't answer me, teeth gritted. I scanned his face, stiff in concentration, his eyes focused in front of him, but not seeing anything. He was pale, a little sweaty, and his hands were curled around the top of the chair. He gripped it so hard his knuckles were white.

"Baby?" I moved quickly, wanting to scoop him up, get him in the car, call Finn, something . But I waited until what I guessed was a contraction passed, until his grip loosened, and he was able to take in a shaky breath.

He nodded. "Thing One and Thing Two took my eviction notice seriously."

I rubbed his back. "Why didn't you wake me?"

He took in another shaky breath, straightening up. "I came in here to walk around. My lower back was still killing me. I didn't want to wake you. I'm starting to think my back wasn't just hurting earlier, but maybe I was having back labor."

I immediately lowered my hand and started rubbing his lower back. He leaned into me, his head under my chin. "Back labor? That's a thing?"

He nodded into me. "That contraction hit like a Mack truck. I couldn't even breathe, Lach. The only thing keeping me upright was holding onto the chair. There was no warning. Nothing in the books said anything about it happening this way. My water hasn't even broken!" He wailed a little, which was so out of character for him, I had to hide my smile. "All the books say that your water breaks, and you have easy contractions, minutes apart. Lots of minutes apart. There are no minutes apart, Lachlan! None! This is bullshit! I'm not ready for this! "

The intensity of the contraction I had witnessed concerned me, as well as him saying there was no time in between them, indicating he'd had more than one. "We need to go. Now."

He nodded. "Probably a good idea. We need to call Finn. And Wade. Gigi, my parents. Your mom. Jamie and Brendan. Everyone. I don't know where my phone is. Where is my phone?!"

I started ushering him out of the room, my hand on his lower back, guiding him and massaging at the same time. I needed to time the contractions, to see how close they were coming. I could make the other phone calls later. Notifying family wasn't my number one priority right now.

We hadn't made it two steps down the hall when another pain hit him. Quinn cried out, then his breath seemed to catch in silent agony. He grabbed on to me, his knees giving out at the intensity of the pain. I scooped him up before he could sink to the floor, and hurried up to our bedroom.

"Breathe, baby," I instructed, because he looked like he was holding his breath, and I knew he shouldn't be doing that. That just seemed like a bad idea. All the baby books, videos, and literature I'd watched and read, stressed breathing through the pain. Short breaths, all huffing and hee hee heeing.

He shook his head at me, then released the bruising grip he'd had on my arms. "Can't. Can't breathe. Fuck, those took a quick turn. I need drugs. Now!"

I chuckled, laying him gently on our bed. I snatched my watch up, taking note of the time, then grabbed my phone. I needed clothes. Quinn at least had on some pajama pants and one of my t-shirts. He needed shoes, though.

I already had a bag in the car, which he didn't know about, so I didn't waste time on that. He'd had one packed practically since he'd been put on bed rest, when we weren't sure if the babies would need to be delivered early, but I'd been afraid we'd forget it in the excitement of actual labor. It never hurt to be prepared and have extra.

He shook his head, trying to steady his breathing. I grabbed a pair of jeans, and the first shirt I came across. I hit Finn's number on my phone while scooping up Quinn's tennis shoes, which still fit over his swollen feet if we left them unlaced. He grimaced at the tightness.

"It's only until we get to the hospital, then you can take them off," I soothed him. My brother answered on the second ring and sounded way too awake for three in the morning.

Finn didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Babies finally decide it's time to put in an appearance?"

I snorted. "Yep, contractions are fast and furious."

"Let me talk to Quinn," he demanded, in his no-nonsense doctor voice. It annoyed me, to say the least. My word wasn't good enough? Grr, annoying brothers.

I handed the phone to Quinn. He gave me an ‘I'm a little busy here, trying to have your babies' look, but snatched the phone from my hand. I listened to his side of the conversation, while I finished dressing and gathering up essentials – wallet, bag, shoes for me. Keys, where the fuck were my keys?

"No, it hasn't broken…my back hurt all day but no contractions, and then bam…every couple of minutes…I don't fucking know, I'm busy trying to breathe through them, you asshole, not timing them, but not that much time between….Fuck!"

Quinn doubled over, gripping the comforter in his white-knuckled fists, trying to breathe, eyes closed, my phone forgotten on the bed. I scooped it up, looking at the time. Fuck was right .

"Two minutes!" I growled into the phone. Finn's voice was calm and steady, and I hated him for it, but was thankful for it at the same time.

"Lachlan, listen to me. I need you to get him in the car. Now. Do not worry about the speed limit, and if you get pulled over, tell them you need an escort to the hospital." I sucked in a harsh breath, my chest constricting. This sounded bad.

"I was just leaving the hospital, so I'm going back in to get a team and a gurney. We'll be waiting at the Emergency entrance."

I watched as the contraction eased, and Quinn took a deep breath and unclenched the blanket. Tears were starting to roll down his beautiful face, from the pain. "I want drugs!"

Still clutching the phone to my ear, I helped him to his feet, then scooped him up. I managed to keep the phone to my ear, while gathering everything else we might need.

"I thought we were supposed to check-in at admitting?" I questioned my brother, trying to keep my voice calm for my mate, who seemed on the verge of losing it. His anxiety and fear were pouring off him in waves. I could smell it and feel it. I tried to keep sending him calming pheromones.

"We don't have time for that," Finn told me, still calm as a damn cucumber. How the fuck did my brother do this every day? "Tell me you're in the car?"

"Almost." I managed to get Quinn into my SUV, and buckled, just as another contraction hit him. He bent double in the seat, not even trying to keep his moans in.

I slammed the key in the ignition. "I'm hanging up now."

"Don't get in an accident, but you need to drive like you did when we were teenagers," Finn instructed, ending the call.

I'd already driven every possible route from our house to the hospital, to find the quickest one. With the early hour and the fact that I'd had a bit of a lead foot when I'd gotten my license, we were pulling up to the hospital in less than ten minutes.

True to his word, Finn was waiting when I screeched to a stop outside the emergency doors. He had Quinn's door open, and my mate out and on the gurney before I was out of my seat.

Not caring if they towed my car, I ran after the gurney, as we crowded into an elevator. There were two beta nurses with Finn. Quinn's contractions seemed to be one on top of the other, barely allowing him time to catch his breath in between. His groans were bordering on screams, and my wolf was howling and pacing with every sound he made. I took a calming breath, willing myself not to lose it. That wasn't going to help the situation. Quinn needed me to stay calm.

"Fuck! I want some drugs!" he screamed, "Where are the fucking drugs? You said there would be drugs!" His accusing eyes landed on Finn.

I kissed his sweaty forehead, wondering why the fuck this elevator was moving at a snail's pace. "Soon, baby."

Finn was busy running his hands over my mate's extended stomach, and I wanted to growl at him. "No time for drugs this time, I'm afraid. These babies mean business."

"This time?" Quinn wailed. "I'm not doing this shit again! You can fuck right off!"

I grinned, then ducked my head, when Quinn shot me a murderous look. Not the time to tell him I found his temper adorable. Or how absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful he looked, red-faced, with sweat pouring off him.

He gasped, then moaned loudly in the small confines of the elevator, "I need to push!"

"No!" Finn bellowed. "No, you don't. Not yet."

This was the longest elevator in history! Were we even moving ?

"Fuck you!" Quinn yelled, all his muscles tense. "I need to push now, you asshole!"

Finally, finally , the doors opened onto the maternity floor, and Finn and the nurses rushed the gurney into a room. They transferred Quinn to the extra-wide labor bed, one made so an alpha could be next to their mate, and stay with their pups.

Trying to stay out of the way while they stripped my mate and got him into a hospital gown, attached monitors, and took his vitals, I dropped the bag on a loveseat that was in the room.

I grimaced as Finn gloved up, and quickly moved to the head of the bed, sliding on it next to Quinn, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. His hands gripped me hard, as Finn did a quick exam that I tried my best not to think about. It was still super weird for me that my brother was our doctor, and had been up close and personal with my mate and all his bits.

Finn spoke quietly to one of the nurses, and she turned to gather what looked like a long knitting needle.

"What the fuck is that?" Quinn demanded, trying to scoot up in the bed, closer to me.

"I'm going to break your water," Finn told us calmly.

How the fuck was he so calm, I wondered for the umpteenth time. I was about to lose my shit.

"Not with that you're not!" Quinn barked.

One of the nurses wiped Quinn's sweaty forehead with a damp cloth. "You won't even feel it, Sweetheart."

"The fuck I –" Quinn broke off in mid-sentence, as I watched the pad they'd placed under him become soaked.

"See," the nurse – I really needed to get their names, because they were so calm and sweet to my mate – told him, her voice quiet and soothing .

She and the other nurse made quick work of changing out the pad beneath Quinn, and wiping the amniotic fluid off of him. Another minute and the stirrups were on the bed, and his legs were in them. At some point, one of them had even hooked him to an I.V. It was pumping fluids into him, a needle in the arm opposite the side I was on.

This was not happening anything like we'd thought it would, or how any of the books had said it would go, but here we were. I don't know why I was surprised. These babies were just like their Daddy, doing things however the fuck they felt like it, and at top speed.

"Alright Quinn," Finn called from down between my mate's legs, "Next contraction, give me a good push. Your baby is right here, just waiting for a little help from you."

"I told you I had to push, you dick!" My mate wailed at my brother.

Three pushes later, Finn told us, "The head's out, stop pushing until I tell you."

Quinn leaned back into me, and I nuzzled his neck. He was sweaty, anxious, scared, and he'd never smelled better to me.

My mate. My warrior. My love.

"One more push, Quinn, and this little one will be here," Finn instructed. "You can do this."

Quinn leaned up, and I supported his back with my weight. I felt his muscles working to push our child out, and I couldn't even put a name to the emotions that washed over me. He must have felt the baby slip from him because he sagged back against me, exhausted and spent. I kissed his forehead, his damp curls, his cheek. Whatever spot I could reach, I didn't care.

"Why isn't he crying?" Quinn whimpered seconds later, and I realized we hadn't heard the baby make a sound. I glanced to the end of the bed, to my brother's face .

Finn was staring down at the baby in his arms, a look on his face I'd never seen before, and it terrified me to my bones.

"Finn?" I whispered, my voice harsh in the now quiet room. The only sound the beeping of the monitors hooked to Quinn.

Finn looked up, his blue eyes glassy, just as the baby – our child – let out the loudest, most pissed-off wail I'd ever heard. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until I heard the cry.

Then my brother did something I rarely saw on him. He smiled. A true, honest to Goddess, full-on smile.

I blinked, because I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually seen Finn smile, and Quinn whispered, "Tell me my baby is okay?"

Finn cleared his throat, then looked down at the baby screaming in his arms. "She's perfect."

What? She? What?

"It's a girl," Finn said, awestruck, clearing a lump from his throat. "She's a girl. A perfect little girl."

The nurse that had wiped Quinn's face was holding a pair of scissors out to me. "Do you want to cut the cord, Alpha?"

I…I didn't know what I wanted to do. I was struck dumb. I, we, had a daughter.

The first Sinclair daughter born in four hundred years.

I moved to the end of the bed and snipped where she instructed. She wrapped my daughter in a blanket, then handed her to me. "You'll need to scent her, and then we'll get her cleaned up, and measurements taken."

I looked down at my daughter in awe. I barely felt the tears streaming down my face. She was red, and wrinkly, pissed off and letting the world know it. She was covered in blood, and I didn't even want to know what else. She was the single most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life .

I took her over to Quinn and laid her in his arms. He nuzzled her, then threw me an angry, accusatory glare.

"You told me we weren't having a girl! We don't have anything for a girl! We don't even have a girl's name picked out! We can't keep calling her Thing One! You dick!"

I chuckled at his outrage. Only my mate would be pissed off at me over this turn of events.

"On the bright side, my mom is going to love you forever, you know," I told him, nuzzling our daughter, mingling our scents. "You are now going to be the favorite son. Forever."

The baby was quiet now, her anger at being born momentarily forgotten, as she blinked at us, her blue eyes identical to mine. She wrapped one tiny finger around my bigger one, her grip strong. Her hair was a dark reddish-brown, like her Daddy's, and she had a headful of it sticking up all over her head, but her facial features were pure Sinclair.

The same nurse came over – and I finally glanced at her name tag, Chelsea – and told us, "I'll need to take her now, but she'll be back as soon as possible."

She scooped the baby up, reminding Quinn. "And you're not done just yet."

Quinn's eyes tracked her with our child, as did mine. I had this unholy urge to not let her out of my sight, but we had another baby to deliver.

Suddenly, alarms started blaring in the room, startling me. I whipped my gaze to Finn, who was still between my mate's spread legs.

"Quinn, how you feeling?" Finn's voice was still calm, but I could hear something in it. Something I didn't like. Something was wrong. I glanced at Quinn. His face had lost all its color, his eyes were rolling back in his head.

"What's happening?" I demanded as the nurse tried to rouse my mate .

"Call the O.R." Finn barked, breaking down the bed. "Tell them we are coming now. Placenta detachment, fetus and omega in distress."

"Finn!" I could hear the panic in my voice, as a red stain of blood spread from underneath Quinn. And spread, and spread. It was our bed all over, so many months ago, only ten times worse. I could smell his blood, so much blood, and the alarms were blaring in my ears.

They were already moving the bed towards the door at a speed that frightened me, even more than the blaring alarms and blood did. I started to follow, stopped, torn, between my mate and our daughter.

"Stay, Lachlan," Finn ordered. "I'll send someone to update you, as soon as I can."

"Finn!" I yelled, and I saw my brother look back, without stopping. "You save him. If it comes down to a choice, you choose Quinn!"

Then they were gone.

I was standing there, in the middle of our labor room, staring at red drops splattered on the clean, white floor.

Quinn's blood.

Quinn and our other baby.

So much blood, in a minute of time.

My knees wobbled, and I almost sank to the ground. Instead, I landed in the padded rocking chair that was in the room. Chelsea, now finished with our daughter, came over with our clean, wrapped baby and handed her to me.

I cradled her in my arms, staring down at her in wonder.

What if I lost him? Lost them?

Never had it entered my mind that I could lose Quinn. Not like this. Not this way. Not since that one terrifying scare, we'd had early on .

The baby blinked at me with her big blue eyes. Her face a tiny female replica of mine, topped with Quinn's wild hair. I felt the tears leaking from my eyes, and I made no move to stop them.

What if I never saw his face again? Heard his sassy mouth? Held him in my arms? Kissed his lips?

"Does she have a name, Alpha?" Chelsea asked me quietly. She was cleaning up the mess of the room, efficiently and quietly. I knew from our hospital tour, in most cases, you labored, delivered, and stayed in the same room. They were lovely rooms, suites really, with private baths. I didn't know if I'd be able to stay in this room, without having nightmares.

"What?" I croaked, swallowing hard. I couldn't think, my brain overrun with all the devastating possibilities of what could be happening with Quinn.

"The baby's name?" she repeated gently.

I looked at my daughter. We'd – I'd – been so convinced we would have two boys, two alpha boys, we hadn't even picked any girl names.

"No," I whispered. "My family, we haven't had any girls in over four hundred years. She's the first."

She smiled softly at me. "I imagine she'll be spoiled rotten then, now, won't she?"

I managed a soft smile, looking down at her tiny, beautiful face. "I'm going to have to hire bodyguards."

Chelsea looked down at the baby. "She is a beauty already. What names did you have picked out?"

I knew what she was doing. She was making small, idle talk, to take my mind off what was happening, somewhere in this vast hospital, to my mate and other child. Bless her for it. I'm sure she had other things she could be doing, besides making sure I didn't go quietly out of my mind and tear the hospital apart .

"Um…Rory Quinn and Patrick Lachlan," I told her. "Quinn wasn't thrilled with me picking our names for their middle names. But I let him pick their first names, so it was a compromise."

I didn't know why I told her that, other than she was easy to talk to and I needed to talk. It was that, or I would start pulling my hair out and throwing things across the room.

"Good strong names." She smiled, tapping a finger against her lips. "Just a thought, but Rory can be a boy or girl name, as can Quinn."

I looked at her, then down at my daughter, who was now sleeping peacefully in my arms.

Rory. She'd been Rory from the time we'd picked their names.

I would call them by their names when I rubbed Quinn's belly, or they were kicking up a storm, not letting him sleep. It tickled him that I refused to call them by their nicknames, unless other people were around. We'd refused to divulge any of the names we'd picked out until we'd had the babies.

I knew Quinn would love it. He'd picked the name Rory first, and without hesitation.

"What do you think, little one?" I whispered to her. "You've been Rory from the time your Daddy picked it. I think it fits you."

I was feeding Rory a bottle when Finn strode through the door of our hospital room, what felt like hours later. He looked haggard and exhausted. I'm sure I looked worse .

He held up a hand before I could get any words out of my mouth. "He's fine. They're both fine. He's in recovery."

I gasped in a deep breath, feeling like I could breathe for the first time since they'd rushed Quinn from the room.

Finn sank down on the loveseat, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at Rory in my arms, sucking on her bottle. I had no clue how long he'd been awake at this point, but he looked ready to collapse and sleep for a week.

"She's beautiful," he whispered, his voice full of wonder, staring at the baby in my arms. "I can't believe she's a girl. Mom is going to be out of control."

I chuckled. Yeah, I was already bracing myself for that.

From the awe in his voice, I didn't think our mom was going to be the only out-of-control one. Rory was going to have three out-of-control uncles too. Four if you counted Wade.

As much as I wanted to gush about my daughter, I wanted to know about my mate and our other child more.

"What happened? How's Quinn?" I wanted more details than fine. I needed more than fine.

"The second twin's placenta finally tore away from the uterus, and Quinn started hemorrhaging. The baby went into distress. Oh, it's a boy, by the way. They should be bringing him to you shortly."

A boy. One of each.

I couldn't help the smile of joy that broke across my face, as I lifted Rory to my shoulder and patted her back gently, trying to coax a burp from her.

"I had to do an emergency c-section, but I was able to get the bleeding under control, without having to remove his uterus."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Not that I would have cared what they'd had to remove, as long as Quinn was going to be okay .

"He'll be in recovery a little longer, then they'll bring him back here." Finn rubbed a tired hand over his face.

"It's going to be a longer recovery than you were planning on. I know Quinn's tired of bed rest, but he's essentially given birth and had a c-section. He lost a lot of blood. He's going to need rest, lots of it, and he won't be moving very fast, or doing any lifting for a while."

I nodded. "I'll make sure he rests."

If I had to tie him to the bed this time, I would. "I'm still going to work from home, even after Quinn goes back to work."

Finn stared at me, and I stared back. I didn't care what his feelings on the subject were. I was happy with the arrangement, Quinn was happy with the arrangement, and we didn't need to answer to anyone else. If I wanted to work from home and take care of our children, that was between my mate and me.

"Good for you, Lach." Finn finally said. "You look happier than I've seen you in a very long time."

The door swooshed open again, and Chelsea came in with another wrapped bundle. I shifted Rory to one arm, and she laid my son – Patrick – in the crook of my other arm. I nuzzled his neck, scenting him. Quinn would scent them both, once he was able.

I looked down at the sleeping baby. His hair was all me, black as a crow, and standing up all over his head. But his face was a miniature replica of Quinn. I wondered if he'd have my blue eyes, or Quinn's green ones. It was hard to tell this early, and he was sleeping, so I couldn't get a peek at them.

"It's too early to know for sure," Chelsea said, "until the blood tests come back, but it looks like your daughter is an alpha, and your son is an omega."

I blinked down at my sleeping babies. An omega. Not only had Quinn given us a girl, but also an omega boy .

Finn groaned, rolling his head across the back of the loveseat. "Mom's going to be extra out of control now."

I laughed, still staring at the sweet faces of my beautiful children. "I sent out a mass text, letting the family know the babies were here. I didn't tell them what we had yet, I want it to be a surprise."

Finn arched a brow at me, and I shrugged. "What? I want to see their faces."

"Mom's not gonna like that," he muttered.

I grinned. "Yes, but she won't care, once she realizes that all the boy clothes she has already bought, that she thinks I don't know about, will all go to Patrick. Now she has an excuse to buy more clothes for Rory. Girl clothes."

"True." Finn smiled. "Nice names. I like them. Strong."

Rory threw up a little fist and made a growly sort of noise. I shushed her, and she quieted down.

"She's going to be a handful," Finn told me, elbows resting on his knees.

I grinned even brighter. "Just like her Daddy."