Dakota Pierre, now a devoted wife and mother, is living the life she always wanted. But how long will it be before that happiness is disrupted?
BOOK: Born Again
WORD COUNT: 4490
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The rush of lukewarm water against my skin felt amazing. I closed my eyes and let the water consume me, knowing it was only a matter of time before it all came to an end. Because it always did, around the five minute mark. I could almost set my watch by it.
Bang, bang, bang!
Ah, there it was. Right on cue.
Eyes still shut, I felt blindly for the shower valve, then twisted it, bidding farewell to my rare moment of freedom.
“Mommy, I hungry,” came the whines from the other side of the bathroom door. Two small voices, not yet able to get the words out properly.
I just had enough time to wrap towels around my body and my hair before I pulled the door open.
“I hungry,” the twins declared in unison, looking up at me with big, puppy dog eyes, brown just like their mother’s. They had much of her features — from the dark hair to the thick eyebrows — as though, by some miracle, we’d conceived them together. One of the benefits of choosing Naomi’s relative as a donor. Naomi had been apprehensive at first; but when her cousin, a gay playboy who had no intentions of settling down, said he’d happily help us start our family, we’d both decided on him. She would have loved them no matter what, I was sure of it, but the genetic connection just made our family that much more whole.
I shook my head, beaming from ear to ear as I looked down at my children — my twin blessings, who had been cutting my showers short for the two and a half years since their birth. Five minutes was about as much time as they granted me before they came looking for me, abandoning their favorite children’s TV show.
“Can Mommy put some clothes on first?”
My query received resounding, petulant “nos” from the twins, who always seemed to be in-sync with each other, from the things they said to the things they did. I’d read up on twin telepathy whilst pregnant, and had been expecting it, but not at such a young age.
I chuckled to myself, then led the way to the kitchen. They followed at my heel.
“What would you like to eat?” I placed them in their matching high chairs in what had become a very small kitchen, now that our family had expanded. The apartment was up for sale, but we’d chosen a terrible time to sell; the financial climate meant that there had been no offers, none that could be taken seriously, anyway. So we were stuck for the time being. Not a major setback, as the twins were still young enough to share a room. But eventually we would need to find a house.
“How does oatmeal sound, huh?”
“With banana and raisins for you, Skye; just banana for you, Gabe,” I said, mostly for my own benefit as opposed to theirs. I’d committed to memory that Gabriel was, under no circumstances, ever to be given raisins again. I’d learned my lesson the first time, after Naomi and I were finding squashed raisins all over the apartment for weeks! He must have picked them out and slipped them into his pocket before liberally discarding them.