Page 32 of Tate: Gemini King
When I curl up in Tate’s arms and fall asleep, I feel entirely at peace. We only wake up when Terrorist barks and asks for one of us to lift him into the bed with his loud ass yapping. Tate lets his palm down for the chihuahua to climb up, and Terrorist sits in his father’s palm before Tate drags him up onto the bed.
“Come sleep with your parents,” Tate whispers. “But be careful. Natasha farts in her sleep.”
“Says the one who snores…”
“Maybe we should get married,” Tate says. “We already fight like we’re married.”
“Tate. Go to bed…” I grumble. Married? Tate needs to slow down.
“Alright,” he says. “But I’m gonna convince you in the morning.”
“I doubt that,” I whisper. But I nestle closer to Tate’s big warm body, I don’t know if I even mean it.
“Good thing your curse didn’t work,” he murmurs sleepily.
“What?” I say back a little too loudly, freezing in Tate’s arms. I tell myself that he’s half asleep and doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Was he awake when he grabbed the chest hair?! I wait frozen for thirty-seconds, waiting for Tate to respond.
“Nothing,” he mutters. “Just get some sleep, princess.”
* * *
the end
epilogue
Natasha learns that she’s pregnant at exactly seven weeks. She never misses a period and notices right away. In a state of euphoria over the pregnancy news, Tate impulsively adopts a one-eyed Sphynx cat who Natasha immediately names Timmy.
This time, Tate can’t argue with her since he picked the name “Terrorist” for their chihuahua puppy – always a treat to explain at the vet. At first, there is complete chaos between the cat and the chihuahua puppy, but within a couple months, they’re best friends.
“Enemies to lovers,” Tate says when he catches the first picture of the sphinx and chihuahua. “Just like us.”
Natasha rolls her eyes… but she can’t help but crack a smile as Tate squats to get a better angle for the picture.
After a surprisingly peaceful thirty-nine weeks of pregnancy, Natasha gives birth to a pair of twins – two boys.
Somehow, in an extremely rare case, the ultrasound missed the twins. When the midwife and doctor hand Natasha the babies, she can’t stop looking at their overly excited father…
Of course, Tate would surprise her with twins. Of course he would.
“We’re going to name them after superheroes,” he says excitedly. “Captain and then… Panther.”
Natasha freezes. This is not the time to let Tate pick the names. Clearly. “Tate. We are not naming our son Captain. Or Panther. Get that idea out of your head.”
She stares at him, making sure he really absorbed the message.
“Fine,” Tate says, staring at one of our sons with so much love on his face that it makes me forget how annoying he can be. “As long as we don’t name them something like Timmy.”
“We’re not going to name our son after our cat, Tate.”
“Right,” he whispers. “Can I kiss his forehead?”
“He’s your son,” Natasha says, holding their second twin and clutching him against her chest. They both have grey eyes… just like their dad.
Once they take the twins home, chaos ensues for months. The twins grow at an alarming rate, clearly taking after their father, who enjoys every minute with them. Terrorist lives up to his name and develops a habit of chasing the Sphynx cat Timmy around the house. When they aren’t napping together in a beam of sunlight, they’re warring like an old married couple.
After a significant amount of fighting, dragging Cormac into the argument, and a lot of make-up sex, Tate and Natasha finally choose names for the twins…
Asher Whitmarsh and Joshua Allen Whitmarsh. Natasha only finds out that Josh Allen is a quarterback after the twins’ first birthday…