Paisley extended her hand toward Braxton. Without hesitation, his hand found hers and he stood, placing his other arm around the back of her neck as he leaned in and kissed her lips tenderly.
“I’m sorry, Brax. I know this isn’t what you expected.” Her eyes were tight, her concern apparent. “I should have known this could happen—Paxton and I are fraternal twins.”
Braxton was still in shock as they left the hospital; the ride home was quiet as he contemplated what this meant for him. Now, not only did he have to worry about Paisley surviving this pregnancy, he had to worry about two children.
“Stop it,” Paisley said to him from the passenger seat. “I know what’s going through your head right now. You’re scared and analyzing all the things that could go wrong for me, but you don’t have to.”
Braxton glanced in her direction; his one raised eyebrow spoke volumes.
“You heard the doctor—I’m healthy and the babies are fine.”
She was right, but now he had to figure out how to handle his overactive mind. This was his problem and not hers to deal with. Because it didn’t matter how many times he received reassurance, he was going to have to come to terms with it on his own.
By week twenty-five, Paisley’s morning sickness began to subside and she was able to maintain a steady increase in her weight. As the weeks went on, Braxton also began to relax and enjoy her pregnancy. He was excited at the fact that he was now going to be the father of three children and not two.
Her six-month checkup revealed she was pregnant with baby boys.
“Are you excited we’re having boys?” she’d asked.
“Ten fingers, ten toes, and healthy. That’s all I can ask for, butterfly.” He’d smiled as he said the words, but secretly, he’d prayed for a boy, one to carry on the Michaels name. Though he’d never admit that to Paisley. “Are you sad that they aren’t girls?”
“Nope, we’ve got a girl. Now we’ll have boys.”
As they left the doctor’s office, Braxton wrapped an arm around Paisley's waist and she pushed Emmy’s stroller. They were the picture-perfect family.
Night after night, once Emmersyn was in bed, Braxton and Paisley would lay in their bed and debate what names were appropriate for their sons. Braxton liked the names Taylor, Colton, and Justin. Paisley, of course, wanted to keep with her family tradition, and felt strongly that they should name them Preston, Peter, or Patrick.
“Come on, butterfly. Work with me, will ya? I just can’t agree to another P name. Could you imagine our family reunion?” Braxton had been lying on his back, his hands behind his head, displaying his bare chiseled chest. “Meet my wife, Paisley, her brother, Paxton, and our two boys, Peter and Patrick. It’s too much, baby. Meet me halfway. I’ll give in to one P name if you agree to one of my names.”
Paisley ran her fingers down the center of his abdomen and then back up. Her body craved to feel his skin on hers, but her belly was constantly in the way these days. “A compromise, you say?” She pretended to contemplate the idea as she glanced into the air. “I agree to one of your names, and you agree to one of mine. Hmm. If I say no, then what?”
Braxton had always loved this playful side of Paisley; he knew she was going to give in. She just wanted him to suffer some. “No is not an option, my wife. If you don’t agree, you’ll never feel my tongue against your skin again. Or in other places, for that matter.”
Just the thought had Paisley ready to agree to anything he wanted. “I pick Colton then from your list. Do you have a preference from mine?”
Braxton appeared to be contemplating his response.
“I like Preston, just in case you care,” she added before he could give his answer.
Braxton rolled to his side to face her. His thumb brushed against her cheek as his fingers dug into her hair, tugging her face toward his. His lips brushed against hers, once, twice, three times before he spoke. “I love those names, butterfly. They’re perfect, just like you.” He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him.
Paisley straddled his waist, ready to satisfy herself and then him.
Chapter 34
Braxton sat behind his desk, staring at a picture of a pregnant Paisley and his little princess, Emmersyn, all dressed in pink. He couldn’t ask for more in life than what he’d been given. The perfect wife, a beautiful daughter, and two sons who were just about ready to join them in the world.
He’d come to the office early so he could finish up a few things before he took Paisley to her appointment. She was in her third trimester, and it was time for another ultrasound. They were looking forward to this appointment and seeing their boys once again.
The ultrasound showed that baby boy A was breech, and the doctor talked to them about the possibility of needing to do a C-section if he didn’t turn around before delivery. They hadn’t expected to get such devastating news.
When they left, Braxton’s mood was somber. He needed to get out of his own mind, or he’d be a bear to live with for the rest of her term.
“Brax,” Paisley called out to him as she waddled her way through the lobby of the medical building. He hadn’t heard her call his name, and she had to sit for a moment. There had been a cement bench beneath a tree just outside of the entrance, so she made her way there and sat down.
“Braxton,” she yelled this time to get his attention.
He ran to her side. “What's wrong? Do I need to go get the doctor?” He was ready to sprint inside and do whatever it took to ensure she was taken
