ch.1

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Flimsy leaves drifted down in clusters. Grand oak trees with prickly branches cast long, lean shadows. Whispers from bees and butterflies wove through the meadow.

This was our favorite park: Monarch Park. It was always quiet here, quiet enough to hear the murmurs of squirrels as they bit their tiny acorns- and the dripping of the stream at the other end of the park.

Darcy sat in Harry's lap and rested her head against his chest. Juliano sat quietly in my lap while Des sat on top of Harry's shoulders and grabbed fistfuls of his curls. (Yes, Harry and I named our sons after our fathers. It was harder for Harry but I told him it would help him mend the relationship he had with his father).

Juliano (JD) and Darcy listened quietly as Harry read them a fairytale, the same one my father had read to me when I was Darcy's age. 

Darcy was nearly 7 years old. She was just as bright and bubbly now, as a kid, as she was when she was a baby. And as for the twins, I'm just glad you all didn't have to witness me blow up like a whale.

I lost the weight from the twins a few months after giving birth. But Harry was still eager for more. I nearly took him to a doctor because his addiction to babies was getting just as severe as my fixation on his rusty leather jacket.

I refused Harry until he used contraceptives and I took birth control. There was just no way I would even have the time to write my name on the next story if I had another kid after the twins. (Yes, I've been writing a lot recently. Random snippets of ideas. Mostly short stories). But it's been nearly five years since the twins and poor Harry waited patiently before I let him officially try again. And now I'm pregnant. 

Juliano and Des are about to be 5. JD is older than Des by a few minutes but he is by far quieter. Darcy and Des were the loudest babies while JD was soft and sweet. He only cried faintly when he needed a diaper change or milk. He clung to me the way Darcy clung to Harry.

Des stuck to neither me nor Harry, he sort of went to whichever one of us wasn't mad at him for ripping Darcy's dresses or for sneaking cookies before dinner.

"And the handsome knight saved the good-hearted princess and they rode off into the golden sunset," Harry finished with a grin.

JD curled up in my lap while trying not to press too hard against my stomach. I'm nearly eight months into my pregnancy. No one can become a professional at being pregnant or have a set way for raising children but I think Harry and I have learned quite a bit since we had Darcy. Even so, every kid is different; just when you've cracked the code on Diva Darcy, the next baby is painfully shy and requires the opposite treatment.

"I like the story, momma," JD smiled up at me.

"Me too, baby," I kissed his cheek. 

"I like stories. They make me feel like I'm in another world," he whispered to me and me alone. He looked up into my eyes the way Darcy looked up at Harry. I didn't like to think that JD doesn't love Harry but he definitely preferred me. 

Harry reacted very differently to the twins. He cared for them just as he cared for Darcy but he wasn't that delicate with them. He sort of expected them to be tougher, to be mini versions of himself. JD was far from tough. The boy cried when butterflies died. He was sentimental, like me. Like Harry when he was alone with me. 

I patted J.D.'s hair to the side and kissed his forehead. He looked quite a bit like me. Like my dad. He had my straight, dark brunette hair but he had my dad's hazel eyes. It was strange sometimes, it felt like I was holding a little boy version of my dad.

J.D. loved to read and write, too. He had started reading a few months ago. I found him under the covers, sitting with one of Darcy's books, reading and re-reading. He was so modest he didn't even tell me he could all the nights that I read to him. He pretended like he couldn't because Darcy was having trouble and he didn't want to make her feel bad by being better than her.

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