Chapter 128: The Universe’s Little Prank Gift

SOFIA

Roman's voice crackled through my phone, low but uncharacteristically soft.

"She did it, Sof. The twins are here. A boy and a girl. They're both healthy. She's fine too."

For a moment, my chest squeezed so tight I thought I'd stopped breathing. Then I shot up from the bathroom tiles, my heart rate accelerating.

"Oh my god!" I squealed, my voice ricocheting off the tiles. "You're serious? She actually—Roman, that's—"

My throat tightened, tears prickling my eyes. "That's amazing. Tell her I'll be there soon. No...don't tell her. I want to surprise her."

Roman chuckled. "She'll love that."

"Of course she will. I'm her favorite person." I grinned, clutching the phone tight. "Text me the hospital details. I'll be there faster than you can say espresso martini."

"Already sent. See you soon, Sof."

The call ended.

And the smile slipped off my face.

Because for the past ten minutes, I'd been staring at two pink lines.

Two.

As in, double trouble.

As in, "Congratulations, you're either about to have a baby, or you just failed the biggest science experiment of your life."

My hand trembled as I picked the stick up again, even though I didn't need to. The lines weren't faint. They weren't questionable. They were screaming neon signs.

I sat there in stunned silence, my mind racing like I'd just snorted an unhealthy amount of caffeine.

Every. Single. Time. We used condoms. Every. Single. Time.

Roman was meticulous about it. Hell, he was more paranoid than me. And yet—

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," I whispered, staring at the universe's little prank gift.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips before I slapped a hand over my mouth. My pulse was erratic, my stomach tight, and for the first time in forever, Sofia Russo had absolutely no witty comeback for life.

....

My heels clicked against the tiles as I all but sprinted toward the maternity ward, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.

The moment I pushed open the door to the private room, my eyes went straight to her.

Sera.

My best friend. My ride-or-die. My cookie-dough-at-3AM partner-in-crime.

And now... a second time mom.

She was lying propped up on the bed, hair wild, cheeks flushed, holding the tiniest little bundle swaddled in pale blue.

Killian sat beside her, his shirt half-unbuttoned as he held the other twin in his arms.

The sight of them hit me harder than I had expected.

"Oh my god," I whispered, my throat closing. "Oh my actual—"

And then I was crying. Like, full-on ugly crying. The kind where your nose runs, your mascara betrays you, and you can't even form words because your chest feels like it just cracked wide open.

"Christ," Killian muttered, clearly horrified. "She's leaking."

"Killian." Sera shot him a glare sharp enough to decapitate. Then her eyes softened on me. "Sof, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I hiccuped, fumbling forward. "Everything. You're—he's—oh my god—look at his tiny face—he has your nose—Sera, he has your nose!"

I pressed a hand to my mouth, choking on another sob. Roman slipped into the room just then, and I swear the bastard looked way too entertained by my meltdown.

Sera narrowed her eyes, suspicious.

"You're crying more than I did," she said slowly, watching me like a hawk. "And I literally had two humans cut out of my body."

I froze. Shit.

"Blame the hormones!" I blurted, too fast. "I watched Marley & Me last night. Tragic stuff. Completely ruined me."

Killian snorted, and Roman coughed into his fist.

But Sera's gaze lingered on me, her brows creased. She didn't call me out, not directly. She just studied my blotchy face, the way my hands wouldn't stop trembling, and the way I clutched my purse so tightly.

And then she smiled, just barely.

But it wasn't her 'happy-new-mom' smile.

It was her 'I-know-you're-hiding-something-and-I'll-find-out' smile.

And somehow... that freaked me out more than the two pink lines still burning a hole in my brain.

....

The vending machine whirred as if it was judging me. I stood there, staring blankly at rows of overpriced snacks, trying to decide if I wanted chocolate or chips when what I really needed was a time machine.

Two pink lines.

The image burned behind my eyelids every time I blinked.

"You've been gone too long."

Warm arms slid around my waist, pulling me back against a chest I knew better than my own heartbeat. Roman. Of course he'd followed me.

I tried for casual, but my voice cracked. "Don't sneak up on me. I could've karate-chopped you."

He chuckled softly against my hair, his breath warm at my temple. "Sof..." His tone shifted, his voice deeper. "What's wrong?"

My throat tightened. I scrambled for something, anything, to deflect. The first thing that popped into my brain was... ridiculous.

"Do babies... come out with all their teeth?" I blurted, then instantly winced. Smooth. Real smooth.

Roman actually laughed, his chest shaking against my back. "No, cara mia. They don't. They're born toothless. Why?"

I tried to laugh too, but the sound broke, and suddenly the tears I'd been holding back all day spilled hot down my cheeks.

Roman spun me around so fast I almost stumbled, his hands cradling my face. His green eyes scanned me, no teasing left in them. There was only concern.

"Hey, hey—" he whispered, his thumbs brushing away the tears that just kept coming. "Why are you crying like this? What happened?"

I swallowed hard, my pulse thundering, every nerve screaming that this wasn't how I'd planned to say it. But plans never really worked with Roman anyway.

"I'm..." My voice cracked. I pressed a trembling hand over his chest, needing the steady thump of his heart. "Roman, I'm pregnant."

The words fell between us like a live grenade.

For a second, he didn't move or breathe.

Then slowly, Roman's green eyes went wide. His lips parted, but before he could make a sound—

"You're what?”

I froze.

Of course. Because why wouldn't the universe add more chaos to this soap opera of a day?

Rafael, Killian's brother and resident sass machine, was standing just inside the vending alcove, holding a bag of Doritos. His perfectly arched brow shot up, and his mouth curled into the kind of smirk that screamed, ‘Oh, this is juicy.’

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "Seriously? Do you people not believe in privacy?"

"Not when the drama practically delivers itself to my doorstep," Rafael quipped, ripping open the bag with a dramatic flourish. "Go on, don't mind me. Continue."

Roman shot him a look that could've set him on fire, then he pulled me firmly against his chest, wrapping me in his arms.

"It's okay," Roman murmured, his lips brushing the top of my head. His voice was steady now, solid in a way that sent my heart thumping harder. "I'm ready."

I stiffened, blinking up at him through tear-stained lashes. "Ready to what?”

His gaze softened, and for once, Roman didn't smirk or tease. He cupped my face with one hand, the other sliding down until it rested protectively over my still-flat stomach.

"Ready to be your husband," he said, his thumb brushing my cheek. "And our child's father."

My breath hitched.

Rafael made a dramatic gagging noise around a mouthful of chips. "Wow. Someone call Hallmark. I wasn't ready for this much cheese happening live in a hospital vending room."

"Raf," Roman snapped without looking at him.

"What?!" Rafael threw up a hand, smirking. "Don't mind me. I’m simply basking in the glow of this life-altering declaration.” He popped another Dorito in his mouth and crunched obnoxiously loud. "Seriously though, congrats, lovebirds. Mazel tov. All that jazz."

I wanted to laugh. Cry. Scream. Maybe all three. Because Roman meant it. I could see it in his eyes. My boyfriend wasn't panicking or running. He was ready.

Holy shit.