Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins – Chapter 218
It’s a subdued night that evening by the fire. The ghosts don’t bother us, or perhaps they’re not here to bother us – perhaps they live in a different part of the forest.
But either way, the four of us are alone as we sit by the fire, eating our little dinner in silence. The boys glance between us, but they don’t say anything, perhaps sensing that a quiet dinner tonight is for the best.
I can’t seem to get rid of my anger and worry from this afternoon. I should probably focus on bigger things – like the ever-increasing ache in my muscles and joints – but I can’t seem to get Amelia off my mind.
ening to my own terrible thoughts.
sion.
clean my plate but…well, some nice possum will get a good meal tonight. Or a bear. I can’t muster up the energy to care at this moment.
erious.
.
still hear them. The noises of them cleaning up, murmuring soft goodnights to each other, changing quickly into their pajamas.
rn off and I feel Alvin climb into the sleeping bag next to me, pressing his back against mine.
feel tonight. I sigh, frustrated with myself again.
otions, no matter how complicated they are? I don’t have to be bright and sunny every day. Not for myself, and certainly n
mind.
– not really. I’ve always been someone who has been able to push the anxiety aside a
…
ay, mama,” Alvin whispers next to me, reaching h
ng to press a kiss to his hand.
son for you to give me more chocolate. Like, a lot more. Or else I will turn nasty and cruel.”
row, I would apolog
sn’t really matter. It can’t.
be back to us.
’s a lullaby I could sleep to every night, for the rest of my life, and never grow sick of it.
y rising over me. But still, it’s not bad. I just snuggle deeper into my blankets.
dreams
ood home, or in the woods behind our house, or just somewhere else entirely.
a bright golden light, like noon sun. And filled with fog, like we’re sitting in clouds.
nt, turning slowly around in the fog, the smoke of it turning and twisting as I run my fingers through it.
n my dream tonight.
nt, then, and step outside.
trees – had they been birch yesterday? – stretch high into the air, disappearing into a blank whiteness when they get too high to see the tops.
g for anything like a billowing white sea. My eyes catch on a figure, then, standing a short distance away on a rock in t
aving his hands to me. I smile and hea
n his rock. “What are you doing here?”
ll.”
real son.”
“I am precisely just as cute.”
. “What should we do?”
k, and I’m happy to listen along as he wonders about where this fog came from, and whether fog is just clouds flying low, and whether it would start raining on his feet.
o process in a dream. Hours, days, weeks, minutes – I don’
in front of me.
a,” he says quietly. “I think we’re here?”
ed white. Cheerful paintings of flowers and birds grace the door, the lintel, the windowsills. It’s the sweetest house I think I’ve ever seen.
ning down so that my face is level with my son’s, not taking my eyes off of the house. “Who do you think lives
e Hansel,” he whispers, smiling up at me. “You b
and I feel myself jolt awake, as if from a nightmare.
’s.
ing around.
irection of the cottage.
arming little house of our memory, it’s a dilap
ietly, moving closer to me and squeezing my hand. “I told you it was my dream.”
see Victor and Ian standing there behind us. But, as I knew it would be, the forest is empty. “Who brought us here.”
And, inside of me, I do. I know
She did.
ind.