Or is it thirty minutes?
I have no idea.
Suddenly, a shriek. Piercing, shocking, incredible, it is our baby’s announcement:I have arrived, world! Hear me roar!
“Congratulations! You have a baby girl,” someone says.
Tristan’s smile catches the tears falling down his face.
“She’s perfect. She’s so perfect,” he mutters while they lift the screaming bundle.
Another cry follows, softer but just as steady.
“And a baby boy!” another nurse exclaims, holding him up for us to see. His fists are raised like he’s celebrating.
My chest rattles with the emotions clamoring to burst out—love, relief, excitement, joy. Pure, impossible joy.
Tristan presses his forehead to mine, both of us sobbing, grinning like idiots, whispering thank-yous to anyone who’ll listen. To God, fate, doctors, our son and daughter. They’re here. Our babies are here.
CHAPTER 51
TRISTAN
“Don’t take your eyes off them,” my beautiful, brave Ligaya whispers as the nurses carry the babies to a corner of the operating room. They’re checking vitals, suctioning, wrapping their bodies to resemble burritos.
“I won’t,” I promise, and my throat aches because I’ve never meant anything more. “Ligaya, they are so beautiful.”
Our daughter is placed into my arms first. She’s loud, her whole face scrunched and red and righteous. I laugh because even like this, she’s exquisite. Our son, smaller, is nestled against Ligaya’s chest, his head under her chin. His expression of contentment is the most gorgeous sight.
“A son and a daughter,” she murmurs in awe.
“Yeah. A son and a daughter.”
Her eyes shine. “Can we name our son after my dad? Orlando is so dignified and yet sweet.”
“It is.”
“And that’s the name of my favorite Shakespeare character.”
“I already said yes. Please don’t talk about Shakespeare.”
We both laugh. My son and I lock gazes and my world tilts. My child is looking at me, waiting for me to say something profound.Instead, all I can get past my throat is, “Hi, Orlando. You’re very beautiful, and you’ll be a theater nerd like your mom.”
Ligaya smiles, dreamy. “Also, it’s kind of cool together, Orlando and Olivia, don’t you think?”
“Thank you,” I manage to mutter, despite my heart expanding and blocking my airways.
We had considered the possibility of the name but didn’t want to commit until we knew for sure we had a daughter. I look at her now. Her eyes are open, light brown and alert. I kiss her forehead and I swear she relaxes in my arms.
“Hello, Olivia.”
Ligaya’s tears of joy flow freely. “Hi, Olivia. I love you and your brother so much.”
“Thank you for honoring Olive,” I address Ligaya. “But our little girl will have her own name, her own destiny.”
Ligaya tilts her chin up so our eyes lock.
“You are the man you are because of the love you shared with Olive. Our children are blessed to have a father who knows the depths of love, all its joys and its trials.”
