Erik

Winter came, and with it came Vivienne's lamentations that she would be unable to dance in the snow this year. The difference a few months had made in her figure was prodigious, and she was more sensitive about it than ever. In lieu of dancing, she consented to walks outside through the frozen garden and ice-sheathed trees with me, summoning the spunk to stoop laboriously, gather a handful of slush and powder, and launch the occasional snowball at me when I wasn't looking. I told her it was terribly unsporting of her since I couldn't retaliate against her in her condition, but it only made her laugh.

We looked forward to our first Christmas in our new house, making expeditions outside to choose a tree and hauling it back into the sitting room to decorate. The stormy days kept us inside most of the time, and it felt so much more comfortable to be snowed in together than to be holed up in the Opera catacombs, I had to admit. A glimpse at the drifts piling up outside and the leaden skies above us through the window made me appreciate our fireside all the more, and while we were alone together in our corner of the earth, it certainly wasn't lonely.

Christmas Eve night saw us in the music room, the candles reflecting off the wide windows and the winter night surrounding us. I'd begun to teach Vivienne to play the piano while we were snowbound, as it kept us both occupied and she had less emotional meltdowns while she could focus on something. It was an easier task than teaching her the violin had been, but she still loved to argue with me and dispute my methods.

She sat beside me on the bench, her face set in concentration as her hands moved along the keyboard, the left striking one chord after another while the right plucked out the melody line. Her gaze flicked back and forth between the keys and the music set in front of her and her fingering was slow and deliberate, but she made fewer mistakes the longer she played. I watched her wordlessly, nodding to myself every now and then and trying not to laugh at her stern, serious expression. She came to the end of the piece and sighed. "Still less than perfect."

"But much better than last time," I replied. "Skill comes with practice, Vivienne, you know that."

"I know," she grumbled. "But I want to get it right now."

"Then by all means, play it again," I told her. "One more try, then we'll stop for the day." I pretended not to notice when she cracked her knuckles and listened as she began to play. She was halfway through when she suddenly broke off with a small gasp. "Erik!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"What is it?" I asked, confused and a bit concerned at her manner.

"The baby!" she said.

I felt a jolt of alarm. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she told me. "He just—he moved! I felt him kick!"

My eyes moved to her stomach. "That's normal, right?" I asked. "That's supposed to happen?"

"So I've heard," she replied breathlessly, putting her hand to her belly. "Oh, Erik," she sighed. "This is amazing...give me your hand."

"What?" I said, suddenly shy and nervous.

"Give me your hand." She reached out and grasped my wrist, guiding me along and placing my hand flat against her stomach. "Do you feel that?" she asked.

At first there was nothing, not the slightest movement. I looked back at her and there was such bliss in those green eyes that I felt ashamed I couldn't feel what she did. Then, so faintly I thought I might have imagined it, there was a gentle pressure against my palm. I nearly drew away in surprise but then I felt it again, the tiny stirrings of life nestled deep in her womb.

"Do you feel it?" she repeated.

So great was my amazement and wonder that speech evaded me. I could only stare wide-eyed at her, and she smiled. "We did that," she told me. "We created that little one together. Isn't that incredible?"

I nodded, a bubble of joy and pride swelling in my chest. I bent down and kissed our child, then straightened and kissed his mother, wrapping my arms around her and rocking her back and forth. "Can you believe it, little phoenix?" I asked. "It's barely two years since we first spoke, and now look at us! Married, a home of our own, looking forward to our first child—"

"First?" she laughed. "This one's not even properly arrived yet, and you're already planning on more?"

"Well, of course, dear girl," I replied. "He's going to need lots of brothers and sisters to keep him company, and we'll need lots of little prodigies to finish comprising our private family orchestra. Don't you agree?"

"It's a grand scheme to be sure," she said, "but let's take it one prodigy at a time, shall we?"

"We still need a name for this one," I continued. "We've only got a few months left to decide, Vivienne. We need to get a move on."

"Erik, we've been over hundreds, if not thousands of names!" she told me. "We can't agree on a single one!"

"Then let's..." I cast around for a compromise. "We'll win the pleasure of choosing."

"Win?"

"A contest. We'll play for it."

"Like old times," she grinned. "And since you issued the challenge, I get to pick what it entails. Violins, monsieur, and as for the music...I think Clair de Lune will do nicely."

I sighed. "Darling, you know I rather admire Debussy, but I thought you'd choose something a little more challenging. If you want to throw away your chance at naming our first child, go ahead, but—"

She elbowed me in the ribs. "Meet me in the sitting room, monsieur," she ordered. "I'd like to be comfortable for our contest." She tossed her fiery hair arrogantly and stood, strolling from the room with as much swagger as she was capable while bearing her extra weight.

I smiled after her and collected the violins before following her. She had already settled into her favorite place on the sofa, a pillow tucked behind her to support her back and her feet propped up on a footstool. She watched the fire in the grate as was her way, smiling to herself and caressing her belly. I stood in the doorway drinking in the picture before my eyes, wondering if she could feel the baby stirring again and causing her to smile that way. It was a sweet sight, and I wanted it burned forever into my memory.

After several moments of silence, I entered the room and handed her her violin. "What took you so long?" she asked.

"Nothing in particular," I replied, dropping onto the opposite end of the sofa. "I was just thinking that it will be a cold day in Hell before I ever get tired of watching you when you think I'm not looking."

"Erik, no swearing around the baby," she chided, tuning up.

"You don't even know if he can hear me," I said. "And even if he can, he's far too young to understand what Hell means. And if you want to be fussy, Hell isn't even foul language, it's a proper name for a real place."

"Well, stop being fussy, at any rate," she bossed. "Are you ready?"

I set my instrument on my shoulder and raised my bow. "I'm ready when you are, my phoenix."

She nodded, and we began.

The melody was flowing and lyrical, rising around us and sounding sweet as a lullaby. I could have played it in my sleep, but I was glad it was so effortless, as it left me free to continue watching my lovely Vivienne. She closed her eyes and swayed slightly with the music; she was almost as good as me by now. I saw her merge with everything: the melody, her violin, the general air of delight and expectation that hung over our home. Then I saw her smile that smile again, and I just knew she was feeling our child within her once more. They were all united, and they'd never been so beautiful.

We had nearly finished the piece, but that smile was too tempting to resist. I set my violin aside and flung myself to my knees at her feet. "I forfeit," I told her, leaning up to kiss her before putting my hands to her stomach. "You win. You name the baby. Name every child we might have, and settle on any ridiculous, outlandish, or boring name you like. Just let me feel him move again."

"I can't make him move, Erik," she laughed, laying down her own instrument. "He was quite active a few moments ago. I think he liked the music."

"Well, he ought to like music, considering the stock he's from," I replied. "It's in his blood, you know."

She smiled down at me and put her hands over mine. "I love you," she said.

"I love you, too, Vivienne. I love both of you."

The grandfather clock in the foyer struck eleven. I sighed and told her, "You should really get to bed. You need your sleep."

"Only as long as you come with me," she replied.

"Of course, mon amour. As you wish."

We went upstairs, and soon we were settled beside each other in our bed. I reached out to stroke her hair and she let out a drowsy sigh. "Merry Christmas, Erik."

"Merry Christmas, Vivienne." I kissed her gently on the nose, but she had already fallen asleep.

Vivienne

January was dismal and February didn't begin much better. I could hardly get around the house anymore, my back ached terribly from the extra weight, and while I knew good and well I would miss the little companion I had shared my body with for the past nine months, I just wanted him to hurry up and arrive already!

We'd been expecting his entrance into the world for several days when I felt sharp shooting pains in my body. I'd been forced to wait alone while Erik went to fetch the midwife we'd arranged to deliver the baby. She only lived a couple of miles away, so it was preferable to rushing into Paris and combing the length and breadth of the city in search of a doctor. And while Erik had at first worried she would prove to be a superstitious old crone from the country, we'd found Mme. Fontaine to be of a more practical, matter-of-fact nature; we were thus reassured that if the baby happened to look like Erik, she wouldn't be too...drastic.

Erik had returned with her, and after a brief examination she'd informed me that I'd only felt false labor pains and that the baby probably wouldn't arrive for a few more days yet. Needless to say, the news didn't go far in improving my mood. My patience had worn thin, and I'd never been so bad-tempered in my life.

I sat at the table one morning staring distastefully at my breakfast. I'd barely slept the night before, my ankles had swollen again, and I was so annoyed it was giving me a stomachache.

Erik glanced at me from across the table. "Not hungry this morning?" he asked.

"Not hardly," I replied. "And I was up half the night, too. I just couldn't get comfortable. I swear to God, if this little urchin doesn't get here fast, I'm going to reach in and pull him out myself."

He winced. "Try to avoid that if possible," he advised. "It sounds painful."

"You're telling me?" I asked. "And it will be even more painful before it's over. It hurts just thinking about it."

"It hurts? Right now?" he asked, alarmed. "Do you think this is it? Should I get Mme. Fontaine?"

"Oh, why bother? She'll only tell me it's false labor again and that I'll have to wait some more—"

"I'm serious, Vivienne. How bad is this pain?"

"It's not that bad," I assured him. "It was worse last time, and last time nothing happened. I'm—"I hissed through clenched teeth as a spasm tore through me. Thatwas more painful than the last time.

"Don't lie to me and tell me that was nothing," he told me. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"

I nodded.

He rose from the table. "I'm going to get the midwife," he said. "I swear, I won't be long."

"Hurry," I entreated. "I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be," he promised. "Can you make it upstairs back to bed?"

"I think so."

"Good. Let me help you."

We left the table and made our way through the house and up the stairs. The pains—I soon felt confident in calling them contractions—came a little sooner every time, but they were still several minutes apart. Erik got me safely back into bed and turned to leave for Mme. Fontaine. He hesitated in the doorway of our bedroom and I knew he was as reluctant to leave me as I was to let him, but we had little choice in the matter. He hurried back to my side, gave me one last kiss, then sped from the room.

I waited there alone, lying in bed and falling prey to stronger and more frequent pain. After a time I felt the sheets dampen around me as my water broke, and I knew for certain that this was it. Whether I was ready or not, the baby was coming.

I started to panic as the contractions intensified and there was still no sign of Erik. In the gaps between the pain, I had time to reflect that we would soon be parents, and the knowledge at once delighted and terrified me. Was I really ready to be a mother? What if something went wrong during delivery? And where was Erik? Shouldn't he have returned by now?

A contraction made me feel I was being ripped apart, and I cried out. "God, help me! Erik, where are you?"

"I'm here, little phoenix."

I focused my eyes and saw him in the doorway with Mme. Fontaine, the midwife. He came to my side at once, brushing my hair off my sweaty forehead. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"No!" I replied. "Oh God, it hurts!"

Mme. Fontaine bustled over to examine me, bending my knees and positioning my legs. "There's still time yet," she told me. "This little one won't be here right away."

I groaned loudly.

Erik took my hand and squeezed it. "It'll be fine, Vivienne," he said. "There's no need to worry."

"Really?" I demanded. "Do you want to switch places, then?"

"You know I would if it were possible."

"Of course you say that, since it's not possible," I snapped.

"Are they always like this?" he asked Mme. Fontaine.

"Most of them are, monsieur," she replied. She paid no attention to Erik's face, and he didn't seem troubled by the absence of his mask in her presence. He hadn't worn it since we moved in, and except for a surprised expression when we first met her, Mme. Fontaine hadn't behaved as though there was anything unusual about Erik's face. "You might as well sit down. We'll probably be here awhile."

He sat down next to me on the edge of the bed and continued to hold my hand, doing his best to soothe me when more contractions came. My grip grew tighter and tighter until eventually he flinched and exclaimed, "Damn it, Vivienne, I know you're in pain, but have some compassion on my fingers!"

"No swearing around the baby!" I told him. "And whatever happened to switching places? You think a few bruised knuckles compares to this?"

"I'm not certain if anything compares to that," he said. "At least, nothing I'm likely to experience."

"Then I'll just tell Mme. Fontaine to give you a kick in the balls and see how you feel about it!"

"Now, wait a second!" he exclaimed. "What good would it possibly do you to assault me in the gentleman's region like that?"

"Don't worry, monsieur," Mme. Fontaine assured him. "They all tend to think it does them good."

I let out another cry and she lifted the bed sheet off my legs and over my knees. "It's time," she announced. "Maybe you'd like to leave, monsieur? The husbands don't do so well during the labor."

He shook his head. "I'm staying here," he said, but I heard his voice shake slightly and his grip on my hand was a bit less steady. He was just as scared as I was, but he wouldn't abandon me or the baby, and I gave his hand another squeeze to tell him how grateful I was—though I feared the message was lost in translation as a contraction hit a moment later and I gave a shout.

"Just keep breathing," Mme. Fontaine instructed, "and push when I tell you."

Push? How the hell was I supposed to do that when my entire body was being...ripped? Squeezed? I couldn't describe the feeling, other than by saying it fucking hurt!

There was an intense pressure deep down and I nearly began to panic again, but Erik held my hand tighter and said, "Just breathe, Vivienne, deep breaths. We can get through this together."

I struggled to calm down, breathing deeply and giving him a nod. This was it...our lives were about to change...

"All right, Madame," the midwife said, "push!"

The world was about to end, I was sure of it. It couldn't possibly continue on through this—pain! Pain! There was no room for anything else and no memory of time without it! "I can't do this!" I screamed.

"Yes, you can, little phoenix," Erik assured me. "I know you can."

"Here's the head," Mme. Fontaine told us.

"You see the baby?" I gasped.

"The head, at least," she repeated.

"Show me," Erik demanded, darting to her side. I was nearly blind with the pain, but I could distinctly see him, my husband, the infamous Phantom of the Opera, on the verge of fainting.

"Try not to pass out, monsieur," Mme. Fontaine said. "I have my hands full at the moment with your wife."

"Our child," he said dazedly. "That's our child..."

"Not yet, it isn't. Push again, Madame, as hard as you can."

More pain, more agony, would it ever stop? I felt as though I was losing consciousness when finally-it was over. I heard a pair of newborn lungs hard at work, screaming and crying. Then there was Mme. Fontaine's voice, "It's a boy."

"My God!" Erik burst out. "Vivienne!"

"What is it?" I asked breathlessly. Did he look...

"He's perfect," he gasped, and I heard the catch in his voice that heralded tears. "Vivienne, he's perfect!"

"Let me see him!"

Mme. Fontaine cleaned him up, wrapped him in a blanket, and laid him in my arms. The instant I saw his sweet little face, pink and wrinkled and flawless, even without the eyes of a mother...how can I explain it? My heart suddenly felt larger, too large for my chest to contain it. It would have to spill out and surround him, my son, so he would always know how desperately and completely I loved him. "Look at him," I said, about to cry myself. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

Erik didn't answer, and I looked up to see him watching us with tears pouring down his face.

I was about to speak again when there was another contraction like a runaway horse. "What's happening?" I exclaimed.

"I thought as much," Mme. Fontaine said. "You'd better take your son, monsieur. It's twins."

"What?" Erik and I shouted together.

"Twins. The other one should be coming any minute now."

"You mean I have to do all that again?" I cried as Erik took the baby from me and held him, looking terrified and overjoyed at the same time.

"You made it the first time," he said encouragingly and slightly manically, just as frantic as I was. "It'll be all right."

I didn't know if I was furious, ecstatic, or just plain hysterical. "Son of a bi—"

"No swearing around the baby!"

"Erik, shut the fu—" I broke off, screaming. There was no way I could survive it again; I was going to die while bringing our second child into the world only minutes after the first was born. I felt like I was walking down a dark tunnel, leaving Mme. Fontaine's instructions and Erik's words of support further and further behind me. There had to be light somewhere at the far end...It couldn't go on forever...God, please don't let it go on forever...I didn't know how much longer I could go on...

"It's a girl."

I burst out sobbing in relief, thanking Heaven it was over, and when Mme. Fontaine gave me our daughter and I saw her round, rosy face, I began to laugh and I couldn't stop, grateful that our children wouldn't have to suffer like their father had because they looked different. "Erik!" I said. "Look at her! Look at them both!"

"I know!" he crowed.

"Congratulations," Mme. Fontaine said. "I'll leave you alone to get acquainted with each other." She left the bedroom after helping me change into a clean dress and putting fresh sheets on the bed. Erik and I sat side by side, each holding an infant.

"It would be our luck to be landed with two at once," I told him.

He nodded. "Twice the fun, twice the love..." he said.

"Twice the chaos," I added.

"Well, that's a given," he agreed, "but it'll also be twice the adventure."

I smiled and looked down at our babies. "I hope you're happy with two, because I'm never doing that again. Ever."

"Oh, it can't have been that bad," he teased.

"Ever," I repeated.

"Don't exaggerate, darling," he grinned.

We both had our arms full with the newborns, or I would have elbowed him in the ribs. He knew it was on my mind, because he grinned even wider then said, "A deal's a deal, little phoenix. You get to name the first one."

"Actually, I recall you forfeiting the chance to name either one," I teased back. "I can choose any ridiculous, outlandish, or boring name I like."

"Now, you won't hold me to that, will you?"

I beamed again at our children and said, "You caught me in a charitable moment. I get to name him, and you can have the privilege of naming her."

"Fair enough," he replied. He was quiet for several minutes, then said, "Thank you, Vivienne."

"For what?" I asked.

"For this," he said, nodding to the twins. "You just gave me two children when I never expected even one."

"Well, you did have a hand in it."

"Exactly. I would never have even had a chance at a family if not for you. No one else would have—no one else ever—" He stopped, unable to continue.

I rested my head on his shoulder and he leaned down to press a kiss to my temple. "Erik?"

"Yes, Vivienne?"

"I'm tired."

"Well, you've earned the right to be. Go ahead and sleep. I fear we won't be getting much of it for awhile."

I sighed and leaned against him, still holding our daughter. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was Erik cradling our son in his arms and the last thing I heard before I fell asleep was him humming softly for the three of us.

Erik

We were both awakened in the middle of the night by an insistent wail. I heard Vivienne sigh heavily and say, "There he goes. It's your turn."

"That's his hungry cry," I reminded her without even opening my eyes, "and I'd be rather useless to him in that regard."

She sighed again and I felt her get out of bed, but it wasn't five seconds later that a second cry joined the first. "And that's her," she said. "You have to get up after all."

Resigned to my fate, I rose and followed her into the next room. The twins were awake and both were crying loudly in their cradles. As a musician, I admired the power of their three-month-old lungs and looked forward to when I could train them to harness that power into song. As a father, I was anxious to soothe them and calm them again, no matter how long it took. And as a rather sleep-deprived individual, I sincerely hoped it wouldn't take long.

Vivienne went to Rene, lifted him in her arms, and carried him to the rocking chair by the window, settling down to nurse. I scooped up Annelise and walked the nursery floor with her, humming a lullaby to quiet her. It had been a rough week, as both infants had contracted whooping cough, but things were just beginning to settle back into their usual routine. Ren would wake up for a nighttime feeding that Annelise would sometimes sleep through, only to wake up later for her feeding. Even I was feeling drained lately, and I knew it was nothing to how exhausted Vivienne was.

I glanced at her and saw her struggling not to fall asleep again even as our son suckled at her breast. Poor thing...she'd proven to be a wonderful, if not fretful, mother already. She could soothe both twins without any effort at all, she doted on them with all her soul, and when they'd been sick she cared for them around the clock, heedless of her own tiredness. She really was like a mother hen with her chicks.

I sighed. It worried me that she got so little rest and so little time to herself. Every waking minute was devoted to the twins, and they were the object of her every thought. I tried to be reasonable and say that was how it should be, but I felt like I was living with a different person sometimes. There was the Vivienne of yesteryear who was so full of life and energy, and then there was this Vivienne, the woman whose soul had burned so bright and now had reduced to a dull glow. "Are you all right?" I asked quietly so as not to disturb the babies.

She snapped to attention, on the verge of dozing off. "Hm? Oh, yes. Of course I am."

"You look tired."

"Well, I feel tired." She sighed and moved Ren to her shoulder, patting him on the back until he gave a tiny burp. She stood again, rocking him in her arms to get him back to sleep.

"Here, I'll do that," I told her, laying the now-sleeping Annelise back in her cradle and taking Ren. "Go on to bed and get some sleep."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Vivienne, I think I can be trusted to look after my own son for ten minutes," I replied.

She hesitated, still reluctant to leave, but I shooed her off and she went back to bed.

I set Ren on my shoulder and walked the floor with him. "We'll be fine on our own for awhile, won't we?" I asked him softly. "We'll show your mother how well we get along."

He fidgeted slightly and I kept talking to him in a low, gentle voice. Ren wasn't like Annelise, and he couldn't be made easy with a simple lullaby. The only thing that calmed him as well as his mother's embrace was our conversations, father to son. Granted, he couldn't actually take part in the conversation, but he was, ahem, the scion of a genius, and I knew he drank in every word and understood what I was telling him.

"You know, you've got the best mother in the world," I said. "And you'll probably look more like her than your sister will, to be honest. You're definitely going to have her temper." Ren did look a great deal like Vivienne. What little hair he had was very red, and he had her eyes-well, for the most part. Their shape was the same and I had a feeling they would have the same mischievous twinkle when he was older, but while one was her vivid green, the other was my glowing yellow. I finally got a sense of what it must be like to run across me in the dark when I saw him, because it had taken me an entire month to get used to that one burning light that greeted me when I entered the nursery at night. It was quite the surprise, and very intriguing indeed...And while Annelise had beautiful manners and was a well-behaved little darling, Ren was as moody and feisty as his mother, though I suppose I deserved some of the credit for his temperament.

Annelise had blonde hair, though Vivienne predicted it would darken to my light brown eventually. Her eyes were yellow as well, but they didn't glow so much as shine. She had the brightest, sweetest nature imaginable and it was like looking at the sun when I looked at her; she had that warm, nurturing air about her. If she had any faults, I guessed she would lean towards complacency that would overstep the boundaries of reason once or twice. It was far too early to see if she had any musical inclinations, but she always listened intently whenever I sang for her, so I took that as a promising sign.

Ren soon went back to sleep, and I put him to bed before following Vivienne to our own. I had expected her to already be asleep again, but she wasn't even in bed, pacing the floor anxiously and looking up the instant I entered the room. "Is he all right?" she asked. "Did he get to sleep again? You know he hasn't slept well all week—"

"He's fine, little phoenix," I told her, laying my hands on her shoulders and kissing her on the forehead. "He's asleep; they both are."

"But Annelise will wake up soon," she protested. "She'll need her feeding—"

"And in the meantime, you need to get back to sleep. You haven't slept at all the past few days, and the twins need you strong and healthy—"

"They need me, period, Erik," she told me. "I can't afford to be selfish—"

"You can't afford not to take some time to look after yourself. You're no good to them in this state. Look at you! You can hardly stand, you're so exhausted! I want you to spend a day or two getting plenty of rest and recovering your strength. I'll look after the twins."

"But Erik—"

"No buts, Vivienne. I'm more than capable of caring for our children. In fact, if I came equipped with such perfect breasts as yours, they'd have virtually two mothers."

She swayed slightly, then sat down on the edge of the bed. "If that were the case," she said, "then they wouldn't need me at all."

I frowned and sat beside her. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head as if reluctant to speak, but went on slowly, "For nine months I carried them inside me, and they depended on me for everything. Everything. My purpose in life was to give them life. I ate for them, breathed for them—literally ate and breathed for them. Now they have lives of their own, and they don't need me as much, and as they keep growing they'll need me less and less, until one day they won't need me at all."

"They're only three months old, Vivienne," I told her. "I think they'll need you for a good while yet."

"Don't tease me! I just never imagined how much I would need them. They depend on me for survival, but they are my survival. Even now, when I know they're only in the next room, I actually miss them. Miss them!"

"It's all right, Vivienne, you're just tired—"

"No, it's ridiculous that I can't even sleep when they're out of my sight! How pathetic is that?"

"I don't think it's pathetic at all," I replied. "I only wish my own mother had cared about me so much."

She paused, then sighed. "Erik, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you—"

"No, it's all right," I assured her, "really, it is. I can't tell you how glad I am that our children have a mother so violently and dramatically in love with them."

"You're teasing me again!"

"I'm not, I'm being perfectly serious. You don't know how much it means to me."

She sighed again and leaned her head against my shoulder. "But why are you so standoffish with them?" she asked. "You've seemed so reluctant to get near them at times."

"On the contrary, mother hen. I've been reluctant to get in your way as you've commandeered the care of them all to yourself. And I'll admit, sometimes I have been worried I won't be half the father to them as you are the mother. You set the bar so high, my dear."

"Well, it's about time there was something I could best you at," she replied, taking her turn to tease me. "Though I don't know what you're talking about, to tell the truth. You'd be a wonderful father if you weren't so shy."

"Shy, am I?" I asked, putting my arms around her and drawing her to me. I ran a hand down the length of her body and laid a long, deep kiss to her lips before adding, "I'll have to prove otherwise, won't I?"

"I thought I was exhausted."

"You are, but this will help you sleep." I lowered her back onto the bed and continued to kiss her, raining adoration down upon the body she was still so insecure about after birthing our beautiful children. I took those perfect breasts in my hands and I caressed those hips she'd been so proud of and still had every reason to be. Reaching even further, I caught the hem of her night gown and drew it up—

The sound of a crying child broke in and we both let out sighs of disappointment. "That would be Annelise," she said, pushing me aside and rising from the bed. Ren hadn't woken, so there was no need for me to follow her, but I did anyway to keep her company.

"I mean it," I told her as she sat nursing our daughter. "I don't want you to lift a finger tomorrow. I'll take care of the babies; you just take care of yourself."

"Erik, where in the world would I be without you to look after me?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"I have no idea," I told her. "There's times when I have to ask myself the same question about you."

Conclusion to come tomorrow! *sniff*