Page 267 of Red Marked

Flint shakes his head.

“You can see them in half an hour,” Carla tells him.

“Deal,” Flint whispers.

He gives Magma a bro-hug over the handle of the stroller. “Are you getting any more sleep than the last time I asked?”

Magma shakes his head. He’s grinning so hard it must hurt. “It’s the best thing that ever happened to us.”

Carla looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Her hair is up in a knot that’s coming apart, and there are dark smudges under both eyes. She hugs Koa first, long and carefully, and then Koa’s mother, then me, then Flint. When she steps back, she’s smiling.

“Look at you,” she tells Koa. “You look better than I do.”

“You’ve had three months of twins.”

“Fair.”

I glance at the door. “Where are Ridge and Robyn?”

“Next door,” Koa says.

Her face changes when she says it. Her mouth trembles, and her eyes fill all over again. She presses her lips together and looks at the stroller, and for a second, I think she’s going to fold. Then she smiles. It’s huge. It takes over her whole face.

“I’m so happy for them,” she says in a tiny voice.

Flint comes around the bed and puts his hand on her shoulder.

“You are truly amazing,” he tells her. “I hope you know that.”

She nods and wipes her eyes again.

Carla sits down on the mattress next to her. “Okay. I need to know everything. Did you get the epidural? Tell me it wasn’t the back labor thing, because I read about that and I nearly⁠—”

Flint catches my eye and tips his head at the door.

I pick up the bear and the basket. Nobody notices us go.

The door to the next room is half-open. I put my head around it.

Ridge is on the edge of the bed with his arm around Robyn.

My heart melts.

Robyn is holding a bundle so small it fits in the crook of one arm. Both of them are crying. Neither of them is making a sound. They’re staring down at that bundle as if it might vanish if they look away.

I start to back out.

Robyn looks up. She sees me, then Flint behind me, and her face crumples and lifts at the same time. She waves us in.

Ridge wipes his cheek with the back of his wrist and clears his throat twice before it works.

“Come in here,” he says. “I want to introduce you to our daughter.” His voice cracks on the last word. He doesn’t try to hide it. “This is little Maggie.”

We go over. I put the bear and the basket down on the chair, and we look at the baby.

She’s so tiny, with a shock of dark hair. One fist up against her cheek, fingers curled tight. Her eyelashes are so fine I can see through them. Her mouth moves in her sleep and then goes still.

“Isn’t she perfect?” Robyn whispers.