Page 32 of Secret Triplets, Second Chances

JAKE

“Are you sure they’re not too hot?”

Lara glances into the stroller, then back up at me, worrying at her bottom lip. I reach in and put my hand in front of the little fan I have clipped to the visor, feeling the air.

“That little fan had great reviews,” Lara’s dad says, appearing next to his daughter, “and we can keep an eye on them. If they get too hot, we’ll take them inside.”

“Can we get corn dogs ?” Daffy asks, her voice rising to a shout, but it doesn’t matter because we’re standing just inside the admissions booth to the state fair, and she’s far from the only kid shouting in here.

“They said after we check on the babies,” Chrys says, putting her hand on Daffy’s shoulder. “To make sure they’re not too hot.”

“Who needs water?” Kellie appears behind Gideon with an armful of water bottles and starts passing them out to all the kids, loosening the caps.

Once the twins are situated, everyone has water, and Daffy has been promised that we’re going to get corn dogs, we set off, our own little school of fish in the ocean of the fairground.

“Hey,” Lara says, dropping back beside me and entwining her fingers with mine. “We finally made it to the fair, huh?”

I laugh, glancing down at her, thinking she’s even more beautiful now than she’s ever been, wearing a soft pink romper with strappy brown sandals, her blond hair light from the summer and tied up on top of her head. Her hand in mine is warm, and I feel the scrape of her ring against my fingers.

“Yeah,” I say, glancing at the family ahead of us, Kellie pushing the double-stroller and Gideon with Aster on his shoulders. “We did.”

“Maybe we should get married at the state fair,” Lara says, which makes me laugh.

It’s been a just over a year since I proposed to her, and we just set our wedding date for next summer, deciding it would be okay for us to take it slow, have all the time in the world to plan out our lives before the ceremony.

Just last night, Lara informed me that she was accepted to a one-year master’s program in nursing. Once she finishes that, she’ll be well on her way to becoming the director of nursing in the obstetrics department of the hospital.

Aster, Chrys, and Daffy are starting kindergarten in the fall, and they are each dealing with that in their own way. Lara assures me that all their time in daycare is going to make it an easy transition.

I’m not that excited about seeing them gone for eight hours a day, but I’ll also have my hands full with the babies while Lara is going back to school.

As though she can hear my thoughts, Lara’s mom stops and turns the stroller, giving me a clear view of our babies — surprise twins that grew our count from three to five in a single night.

Lily and Poppy, our two beautiful little girls, are fast asleep in the stroller and fully shaded from the sun.

Born in March, they’re just five months old, rolling and sitting.

It’s been incredible to watch them go from squishy little things the day they were born, to seeing their personalities bloom, watching the triplets learn to cope with the new reality of being older siblings.

The apartment was no longer big enough for the seven of us, so before Lara gave birth, we moved into my dad’s old house.

Shelby surprised us with a new back deck, and Zachery surprised each of the triplets with a beautiful mural on their bedroom walls — dinosaurs for Aster, stars for Daffy, and a princess castle for Chrys.

“I didn’t even know you could paint,” Lara had said, her hand to her mouth when she saw the work her friend had put in.

“Don’t cry,” Zachery had said, rolling his eyes at her and then breaking out into a watery smile. “Because it will make me cry, too.”

Now, we turn the corner, and a corn dog stand comes into view. The kids rush ahead with Lara’s mom and dad, while Lara and I take a seat on a bench with the stroller, holding hands and staring down at the babies we made together.

“Hey,” I say, clearing my throat and turning to her. I was planning to wait until we got home to tell her, but now feels right. “I heard back from the grant people.”

She straightens up, her eyes going wide and hopeful.

Last year, I was the official coach for the high school hockey team but it didn’t feel like I was doing enough.

So, a few months ago, I started a little program at the school for kids to talk through their issues, work through the things going on in their home life.

When the school administrators saw what a great impact it was having, they suggested I apply for a grant and extend it into other school districts, implementing it for kids across the state.

“Well?” Lara prods, pushing gently against my rib cage. “What did they say?”

I grin at her. “I got the grant. We’ll plan to roll it out starting next fall. It will take a little time to plan, and if that year goes well, they’re saying we could expand even further, into more of the Midwest.”

She leans in, nuzzling her head into my chest for a minute before pulling back. “That’s great, honey. And it lines up perfectly, too. I’ll have graduated, and the twins can go into day care then?—”

Lara, always planning and thinking. The love of my life, seamlessly fitting me and this thing I’m doing into the fabric of our family.

I surprise her by leaning forward and taking her lips with mine. For a moment, suspended in the middle of the Minnesota State Fair, everything disappears except the feeling of her mouth on mine, the sound of our breathing.

Then we pull apart, and I take her in, from her parted lips to her slightly hazy eyes, the way she looks up at me, her cheeks pink either from heat, love, or both.

“What was that for?” she asks, the corner of her mouth lifting.

“Everything,” I say, finding her hand with mine and tangling our fingers together. “Just glad that I’m here. Glad we finally made it here, together.”

She leans against me, and we sit contentedly, watching as the triplets and their grandparents walk toward us, corn dogs in hand, other fairgoers laughing around them. A few bubbles drift through the air, and Aster holds his corn dog above his head like a prize, presenting it to us.

“Hey,” I say, wanting to make sure I say it before we get lost in our kids and the rest of the day. Lara turns to me, her eyebrows lifting. “I love you,” I say, pecking her on the lips one more time before starting to stand and taking the handle of the stroller.

“Hey,” she says, grabbing my wrist and standing, pulling me back to her for a longer, proper kiss, despite the fact that our kids are ewwing and grossing in the background.

Lara pulls back, squeezes my hand, and stares up at me, those blue eyes shining with the hope and determination I can’t wait to see every morning for the rest of my life. “I love you, too.”

The End

I hope you’ve enjoyed Lara and Jake’s story!