Zuria
A week had passed. Healing had come faster than I expected—almost too fast. The bruises faded. The sharp pain in my side dulled to a vague ache. And I could finally move around freely without dragging an IV pole behind me like a ball and chain.
Danny stayed with me through everything. He barely left the room, only stepping out to get coffee or make calls. He helped with the babies too, cradling them in his arms with a gentleness that didn't match his teasing mouth.
I had finally settled on their names.
Oren, Byron, and Cedric.
When I'd first told Danny, he gave me a look like I'd named them after three 18th-century poets.
"Seriously?" He'd raised a brow. "Oren? Byron? Cedric? Sounds like the cast of an old-timey soap opera."
"They're strong names," I huffed, folding my arms. "Stop judging."
"I'm not judging. I'm just saying—" He paused, grinning. "You sound like you've been reading too many fantasy novels."
