The Twin Birthright. Catherine Mann

nurse at the bassinets grinned before turning away and busying herself with another newborn.

      Naomi gestured to her wheelchair. “If you can call riding in this ‘up.’”

      He knelt in front of her. “Your blood pressure’s down?”

      “Yes. And now I want to see my babies.”

      “Of course.” He reached for the first bundle, Mary, and settled her in the crook of Naomi’s arm. Then followed with Anna.

      Naomi soaked in the sight of them, clean and sleeping. And beautiful.

      She looked up at Royce, finding his eyes locked on hers. She resisted the urge to fidget nervously and reminded herself of who she should be depending on now. “Where’s my family? Delaney said they were all here.”

      She’d especially wanted to see Isabeau who was expecting a baby with Trystan Mikkelson.

      “They fawned over your babies and then headed home to give you rest.”

      “Oh, they just left?” She frowned. That wasn’t like them.

      “Your blood pressure was up. I sent them away.”

      She sat up straighter, stunned...irritated. “You did what?”

      “It’s late. I told them we’ve got this covered. And they said they’ll be back in the morning.”

      She looked around at the busy staff and kept her voice low. “What gives you the right to decide who stays with me at the hospital?”

      “There’s another weather warning out, so they left to get ahead of the storm,” he said, with such practical calm it set her teeth on edge.

      But then she’d always been far quicker to lose her temper than he was.

      “And if they’d wanted to stay?”

      He stared back at her silently.

      Reason trickled through her anger. Nothing could have made her family leave if they hadn’t wanted to—or unless they had an ulterior motive. “They’re all hoping we’ll get back together.”

      “Maybe. Regardless, I want to help. Is that so bad?”

      “I have help. Or rather, I did until you gave them all their marching orders.” She tamped down her anger. “Who’s watching your dog?”

      His Saint Bernard, Tessie—named in honor of the scientist Tesla—was his big, lovable, constant companion.

      “My neighbor’s got her. She fine. Don’t worry. Just rest.”

      Sagging back, Naomi relented. She had been surprised at how much it hurt saying goodbye to Tessie when she’d packed up her things at Royce’s place. She’d cried more than a few tears into the soft fur.

      So many tears. So much grief. She was weary with the hurt.

      But it was for the best, because she couldn’t risk falling into a relationship with him again.

      Naomi cradled her babies, upset, but not wanting to let anything spoil this first night with her girls. And Royce really had been there for her today. They had meant so much to each other once, even if for only a brief time. “I guess this was our plan, back before.”

      “That it was. I spent a large part of your pregnancy expecting to be their father. It’s not so easy for me to just shut that off.”

      Tears became heavy in her eyes, compromising her vision, as all the words she knew seemed wrong, inadequate. “I’m so sorry for any pain I caused you. I should have known sooner that—”

      “Stop. This isn’t the time to rehash that.” He slid an arm around her, the strength and heat of him so familiar.

      So missed.

      She shrugged off his arm and the temptation it held for her to slide into their prior routine. “No offense. But touch me and I’ll cry. It’s the hormones. And I wish they were in my room with me and everything was...normal.”

      “Understandable. How about we sit together, you put your feet up here—” he pushed a chair in front of her and lifted her legs to rest on it “—and we’ll hold the babies all night long.”

      She looked up from her daughters into his deep brown eyes, finding his gaze full of emotion, of memories. Their memories. And this time there would be no escaping them or hiding from each other. Not now.

      As they spent the night together, pretending to be the family they never could be.

      * * *

      Milla Jones pushed the flower cart down the quiet hospital corridor, careful not to wake the sleeping patients, the babies and their families.

      One family in particular. Her reason for being here tonight. She’d been unable to stay away, even though she would have a legitimate reason to see them all in two weeks. Revenge required patience, and God, she’d waited for so long. Surely she could allow herself this small indulgence after all that had been taken from her. All the reasons she had not to trust anyone.

      Milla wheeled past a janitor mopping up dried mud and stains from people tracking in wet snow, and stopped outside Naomi Steele’s door. The cart held four arrangements for the new mother of twins, and a cluster of pink balloons. Milla didn’t plan to make this a full-time job. It was a one-time gig with a purpose.

      She hadn’t been able to resist the chance to scope out the Steeles and Mikkelsons. She’d heard about the twins’ birth and had conned a hospital volunteer into letting her deliver arrangements to the patients. Which technically wasn’t cool on so many levels, but Milla had long ago given up playing by the rules. Life had been too harsh. She’d fought hard to build a future for herself, independent of anyone.

      So she refused to feel guilty for pushing the door open and peeking inside the room. The empty room. No one lay in the bed, though the sheets were rumpled. No sounds came from the bathroom and the recliner was unoccupied.

      Sighing in disappointment, she unloaded the four arrangements, placing them around the room wherever there was space—two on the window ledge, one on the rolling cart and the last by the sink. Scanning the room once more, envisioning the family that should have been in here, she tied the balloons to the end of the bed.

      Her time would come. She wasn’t backing down. She had two more weeks to scope out both families before she made her move.

      For years, she’d hidden out in fear of her enemies. But when she’d almost died in a wildfire last summer, she’d decided the time had arrived. She had to look out for her own safety. She’d come here to uncover the truth. The reason she’d left Canada and moved to Anchorage. To find out who was responsible for the destruction of her life—the Mikkelsons or the Steeles.