Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 40 – Therapy call

That night, I’m not surprised to hear the phone ring in my closet. It’s another unscheduled call – Victor is used to getting what he wants, when he wants it – but he’s starting to develop a pattern with when he needs his therapist.

Checking to ensure that the boys are asleep, I tuck Archie into my lap on the closet floor and pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” Victor’s voice is brusk, unsettled, and – as usual – robotic. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, I can talk. The…usual overages, will apply, of course.”

“Yes.” Victor hurries on, dismissing this. “I’m having trouble,” he says, “balancing…well, balancing my life. My responsibilities to the people who I love, who love me.”

“I see,” I say gently. “Did something…happen? To bring about your unsettled state?”

He pauses. “Yes, it did. It’s amazing that you can intuit that.”

I press my hand to my forehead, warning myself to be careful. “Comes with experience,” I say, pushing forward. “Please continue.”

“We had…an incident tonight, I guess that’s the right word for it. My son tripped my fiancé – I don’t think he meant to hurt her, but she was hurt. Everyone was very upset.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” I murmur.

“Thank you. The issue becomes that I took your advice, although it is perhaps also…instinct, knowing that my son was in the wrong. But I backed Amelia, and we left.”

I note, silently, that Victor has – for the first time – accidentally dropped a hint about his identity. “How do you feel about this?”

“Honestly? I feel horribly guilty. The boys were crying so hard when we left, and they accused me – falsely, of course – of not loving them. I know that they’re just kids, and they’re overreacting, and that they will, of course, not think that I don’t love them forever. But I have to admit – it’s just killing me that they think that. Even for one night.”

“That sounds really hard,” I say, my heart in my throat. “As a mom…I can definitely emote with how difficult it is when your sons challenge you like this.” Little does he know that I know precisely what he means, as his sons are, in fact, my sons.

do.” I can almost imagine him, leaning against the kitchen island, his forehead in his hand. “Amelia needed me in that moment – I’m glad I stood by

don’t,” I say, sighing. “That’s an impossible task, unfortunately. You

I can hear his frustration. He wants

I continue, patient, “That sometimes helping your fiancé means you have to let your sons wait for a minute. Sometimes being there for then means you have to

“What?”

you put out the most dangerous flame first.” Silently, I thank Mark for the knowledge and the metaphor. “You let the other, less dangerous flames wait until you deal with the big one. Then you move to

letting him

murmuring it. “Going where

that you went with her. It sounds like your son can wait, and perhaps need to sit with the

the other line and I wait for a few minutes, seeing if he’ll take the conversation up again. When he doesn’t,

you,” I say. “It seems to be something that throws you off more than anything else. That’s

life.

like to tell

frequently felt this way as a child – torn between my

that you were eager to reproduce something

Is that what you

of ten times,” I say,

the tenth

slowly, “I usually find that…the patient is eager to be married in order to fix their

so, again, I push. “Do you feel that that applies to

a child, to hold my parents together – or

you’d like your sons

enter his voice. “I’d…I’d feel horrible, if I

and make mistakes. That you being mad at them doesn’t mean you don’t love them, it doesn’t mean the end of the

failed to do tonight, when I

don’t cow to it, though, and laugh lightly – a reaction I’m sure he’s not used to when he raises his voice. “I think you need to embrace a little of the chaos.

that it’s okay for them to sit with their frustration. That just because you don’t attend to them immediately, it doesn’t mean you don’t love them. They