Page 162 of Jordan

“How?” Rafael says.

“He said it’s rare, but it happens. The twins are both of ours. One is yours. One is mine.”

“You’re joking,” Rafael says with a laugh, shaking his head, his blond hair flopping around. “This is a joke. That’s not possible.”

“It’s very possible, and I’m not lying,” I state firmly.

“Both of you?” Jordan says breathily. “You each have a baby in me?”

“Yeah, angel. We do.”

I consider making the joke the doctor did, about Baby B, but I don’t have it in me. I’m still in shock myself, and it’s clear they are too.

“What does this mean?” she asks. “Are they going to be okay?”

“He said they’re perfectly fine. It was the first thing I asked. This doesn’t affect them in any negative way.”

“This is crazy,” Rafael says, blowing out a sharp breath. “Both of us?”

I nod absently as I take Jordan’s hand.

“You okay?” I ask her.

“I’m just trying to process this.”

“This changes nothing, Rafael. You can still leave, if you want to.” I need to make sure he knows this because I don’t ever want him to feel like we forced him to be here.

He shakes his head, determination filling his eyes. “No. I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to be here for Jordan, for you, and for our babies.”

“I’ll admit, I like hearing that.” I smile at him.

“May I?” He holds his hand out toward her.

She lifts her shirt, and he gently presses his hand against her stomach. He looks up to meet my eyes. His say so much. Shining with fear and excitement. I place my hand over his, and Jordan fits both of hers over ours.

“We’re going to make this work,” Jordan says, looking between the both of us. “Right?”

“Yeah, angel. We are.”

“We are,” Rafael says with a grin, meeting my gaze. “We really are.”

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Jordan

I’m lying in bed nibbling on crackers because I can’t stop throwing up when I hear a dull whomping sound. It gets louder and louder and sounds like it’s coming from above the house. Thunder, maybe? It’s a heavy rumbling sound, but too rhythmic for thunder. I look out the window, but I don’t see anything.

I move out of the room and hear shouting from downstairs. I hurry that way, but skid to a stop when I hear gun shots. The crackers fall from my hands, and I force myself to swallow what’s already in my mouth as everything in my stomach threatens to come back up.

Footsteps pound across the wooden floors. There’s more shouting, banging, cracking, and someone screaming my name. I hurry into the first room I find, which is Enzo’s office. Of course, the one room that has nowhere to hide!

I close the door behind me, lock it, and curl under Enzo’s desk.

Why didn’t I grab my cell phone before I got up? Does he know what’s going on? What the hell is going on? Who is shooting and why? Why is someone screaming my name? Oh, this is bad. This is so bad. It’s exactly what I feared.

I peek out from under the desk to glance at the monitors that show the security camera views, and my mouth drops open when I see a fucking helicopter in the front driveway. A helicopter! I slap a hand over my mouth to stop the scream when I see men laid out on the pavement, dark puddles around them.

This is not good.