Page 207 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“Atlas,” Ethan says. “Atlas Hartley Branson.”
She smiles. “Hartley?”
Ethan nods, looking at his son. “We’re honoring your father, Tess. The man who was ready to fight us to protect you. We’re rewriting the code.”
I swallow hard, nodding. “I like it.”
“And the girl?” Dr. Aris asks.
Tessa looks at Asher. “We wanted something bright. Something coming from the stars. A nod to the thing that almost destroyed us but ended up bringing us together.”
“Nova,” Asher says softly. “Nova Marie Branson.”
Nova. A star flaring brighter than anything else in the galaxy. A nod to Nebula, but ours. Brighter. Better.
“Atlas and Nova,” I repeat. “The A-Team.”
“The B-Team,” Asher corrects. “Branson Team.”
“Whatever,” I laugh, wiping my eyes. “They’re perfect.”
The room is quiet two hours later. The adrenaline has faded, leaving us running on fumes.
Tessa’s asleep, finally. She looks exhausted—her hair matted, no makeup, a hospital gown hanging off her shoulder. She’s the most breathtaking thing I have ever seen.
Atlas is asleep in the bassinet on the left. Nova is asleep in the bassinet on the right.
Ethan’s sitting in the chair by the window, staring at Atlas. He hasn’t moved in an hour. Asher’s sitting on the floor, reading the instruction manual for the hospital-grade breast pump he insisted we buy.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, just watching Tessa breathe.
“We did it,” I whisper quietly.
Ethan looks up. “We did.”
“Are we ready for this?” I ask. “Changing diapers? School runs? Dealing with boys who want to date Nova someday?”
“I’ve already drafted a security protocol for Nova’s dating life,” Asher says without looking up from the manual. “No dating until she is thirty. Or until the suitor can beat me in chess.”
“She’s going to be single forever,” I laugh.
Ethan stands up and walks over to the bed. He puts a hand on my shoulder.
“We’re ready,” Ethan says. “We figured out how to run a company. We figured out how to share a wife. We can figure out two babies.”
“We’re outnumbered now,” I point out. “Three of us. Three of them—Tessa and the twins. The balance of power has shifted.”
“Good,” Ethan smiles. “I was getting tired of being in charge anyway.”
Tessa stirs. Her eyes flutter open. She looks around, panic flaring for a millisecond until she sees us. Until she sees the bassinets.
“Hey,” she croaks.
“Hey,” I smile, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” she admits. “But happy. Really happy.”
She looks at the three of us hovering around her.
