Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 201 – Pancakes

A few hours later, wrapped in our coziest robes, Victor and I step out of our room.

As soon as we walk out, I can hear the noise of our boys downstairs, laughing and talking as they have

their breakfast.

I clutch my robe tightly around my neck as I hear them and look up at Victor, a huge smile breaking out

on my face. God, it’s good to hear them laugh.

Victor returns my look and takes my hand. Then slowly, carefully, we walk down the hall and head

down the stairs.

As soon as they hear the creek of our footsteps on the stairs, we hear everyone go silent.

I’m ahead of Victor, so they see my feet first, staying silent. Then, as soon as they see Victor’s slipper

appear on the step above mine, we hear a collective gasp.

Victor and I look at each other at that and can’t help but burst into laughter.

“Mama!” Alvin shouts, running to the clutch the banister at the bottom of the stairs.

“Papa!” Ian screeches, right after him, skidding to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and banging into the

wall at the bottom. “You’re better!”

They start up the stairs towards us but Victor puts out a hand –

“Wait, wait,” Victor says, his voice soft. “We’re not totally better yet, okay? Go easy on us.”

“Come and take our hands,” I say to them, smiling at my boys at the bottom of the stairs, unable to take

my eyes off of them. So precious to me, these two little things.

Grinning at us, Alvin and Ian obediently come gently up the stairs. Alvin takes my hand, helping me

balance, my little gentleman. Ian goes up a step beyond me, helping his dad by letting Victor put a

hand on his shoulder.

When we get down into the kitchen, I tear my eyes away from my boys to look at Rafe, who is sitting at

the table, pale as a ghost.

Burton stands behind him, a spatula in his hand, the pan he was using to cook beginning to smoke

lightly on the stove behind him.

“Um,” Victor says, his eyes moving to the pan. “Burton, would you…”

Burton blinks and snaps back to himself, spinning and running to the pan to contain the burning food.

Rafe, however, doesn’t stop looking at us.

“How,” he whispers, his gaze following us as Ian and Alvin lead us to seats at the table. “How did…”

“Boys,” I say, interrupting Rafe as Victor and I sit down. I don’t wanting to have this conversation in

front of my sons. “Do you know what I would really like?”

They look up at me, curious and eager to help. “The newspaper,” I say, giving them a big excited grin.

“Do you think you could go out into the driveway and see if it has been delivered?”

They frown at me, Ian opening his mouth to protest, but I pout. “Pleasssseeee, babies?” I say, clutching

my hands below my chin. “Just go look. I really want to see the news today.”

“Okay,” Alvin says, shrugging, and he and Ian bolt to the front door, slipping on their boots and

grabbing their jackets to check the driveway.

“Do we…” Victor says, looking at me curiously. “Do we…subscribe to the newspaper?”

“No,” I say, shrugging and then looking at Rafe. “But. I don’t want them to know how bad it was, last

night. How close we came.”

Victor nods, agreeing, and then he looks at his brother as well.

“Victor,” Rafe says, his voice still full of disbelief. “It was…it was so bad last night. You were…god

damnit, Victor, but you were on death’s doorstep. I really didn’t think that you were going to make it

through the night. And yet, somehow here you are. Good as new.”

“I wouldn’t say good as new,” Victor responds, looking up at Burton as he brings us over two glasses of

orange juice, smiling at us with shining eyes.

“Okay,” Rafe says, huffing out a little laugh and running a hand over his amazed face, as if he might be

seeing a mirage. “But, you know, not dead. Or anywhere near it. What the hell happened?”

“Evelyn did it,” Victor says, smiling at me tenderly, taking my hand. I feel a tingle run all through my

body at the touch of his fingers.

“Did what,” Rafe says, starting to get impatient.

“I don’t know,” I reply, giving a little shrug. And really – I’m not trying to be cryptic. I don’t really know

what happened, what I did.

I could go into all of the details, of course – my memories of going to that place, somewhere in my mind

but also somewhere beyond it. Of what it looked like there, of what we did, of how we…made the

exchange. But…I suppose that some things I want to keep secret. Just between us.

So, I improvise.

“I guess I just…followed my instincts. Nursed him through the night, and whatever it was that was

making him so sick just…broke. Sometime around dawn.”

Rafe looks between us, his mouth hanging open. I can tell that he doesn’t believe me and I give him a

little shrug. He doesn’t need to believe me, I guess. Frankly, it doesn’t really matter what happened

between us.

It was an experience that defies belief. Any attempt to explain it, really, would…it just wouldn’t make

sense.

“So, the icy grip of death just…decided to let go and walk away,” Rafe says, dubiously. “Sometime

around dawn.”

“Yup,” Victor says, smirking at his brother and raising his glass of orange juice to his lips. I watch him

drink, thrilled to see it. He hasn’t had anything except water and broth for days. God, it is such a relief

to see him thirsty, hungry.

I, for one, feel as if I could eat like a horse.

Luckily, Burton is there at my shoulder with a stack of pancakes. “Madame,” he says gently, placing

them in front of me.

“Thank you,” I say, looking up at him, my eyes still shining.

“It is an honor,” he says softly, so softly that perhaps only I hear him. Victor and Rafe certainly don’t

react. Then, he bows slightly, and moves away.

I blink, my eyes following him wondering – did he…did he actually just say that? Or did he put the

words in my mind, like it happened last night in the dream state?

I’m distracted from the question, though, by the pounding of the children’s feet on the front porch. As

Burton places a stack of pancakes in front of Victor, I quickly look at both him and Rafe.

“Please,” I say, glancing at the door, wanting to get this out before they come back into the house.

“Don’t let them know – how…how bad it was. Last night. It’s not information that they need.”

I look both Rafe and Burton in the eyes, worried, but they both nod, agreeing to my terms.

I never, ever want Ian and Alvin to know how close they came to losing their father. It’s knowledge, I

know, that would haunt them perhaps their entire lives. It’s better to let them think it was a mere illness

that passed within a few days.

Perhaps, when they’re much older, we’ll tell them. But for now…

“Mom!” Ian says, bursting through the door and frowning at me. “We couldn’t find any paper!”

“Oh!” I say, frowning back and pretending surprise. “It wasn’t there? What a shame. Someone must

have stolen it. Oh well.”

The boys take off their boots, Alvin more carefully than Ian, as he has something clutched in his hand.

As they bound over to the table to rejoin us for breakfast, Alvin comes right to me, holding out the fistful

of flowers that he picked for me.

“I found these,” he says, giving me a smile both proud and shy.

“Snowdrops,” I say, taking the delicate white flowers from him, my heart melting at his sweet

thoughtfulness. “Thank you, baby,” I say, running my hand over his soft hair. “These are the first flowers

of spring. They represent a whole new season.”

“I’m glad you like them,” he says, and then turns to the pancakes waiting for him.

I open my mouth to say that I don’t like them, I love them, when suddenly I feel the urge to cough. It

starts small, just a little tickle in my throat, but then I find the cough growing into a full bark, a hack.

Victor puts a hand on my back, looking at me with concern, and I can barely catch my breath, clutching

my napkin to my mouth as my chest finally settles down.

When I finally suck in a breath and glance down at my napkin, I see that it’s speckled red with blood.