My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 101 NEW BEGINNINGS

NOVA / ELIZABETH POV

I was officially on house arrest courtesy of Mabel’s orders, backed up by Dr. Harrison’s stern warnings about twin pregnancies and the risks of premature labor.

My due date was in two weeks, but with twins, the doctor said it could be any day now. Any moment. Which meant I’d spent the last week waddling around my tiny apartment like a penguin, trying to get everything ready for two babies I had no idea how to take care of.

The apartment looked different now. In the past few months, it had slowly transformed from a temporary hiding place into something that almost felt like home.

There were curtains on the windows, the cheap ones from the dollar store, but they were mine. A small bookshelf in the corner held my growing collection of second-hand baby books. And in the corner of the room, taking up way too much space, was the project Sam and I had been working on for the past three weeks.

Two wooden cribs.

Well, one and a half. We’d finished the first one last week. The second was almost done, just needed the final assembly.

I heard his truck pull up outside and smiled despite myself. Sam had become a constant presence in my life over the past five months. At first, it was just check-ins. "How are you feeling?" "Need anything from the store?" "Want me to change that lightbulb you can’t reach anymore?"

Then it became more. He’d started coming by twice a week. Then three times. Then almost every day.

He never pushed or asked about the father or why I was alone. Never made me feel like his kindness came with strings attached. He just kept showing up and somehow, that was exactly what I needed.

The knock on my door was familiar with two quick taps, then a pause, then one more. Sam’s signature knock.

I opened the door to find him standing there with that dimpled smile, a toolbox in one hand and a paper bag in the other.

"Please tell me that’s not more fruit," I said, eyeing the bag.

"It’s tacos. From that food truck two towns over. The one you mentioned last week." He stepped inside, setting everything down on the small table. "Figured you were tired of diner food."

I was. God, I was so tired of diner food. But the fact that he’d driven forty minutes round trip just to get me tacos from a place I’d mentioned once in passing made my chest tight.

"Sam, you didn’t have to—"

"I know. But I wanted to." He was already heading toward the unfinished crib. "Let’s get this done before these babies decide to make their appearance, yeah?"

I settled onto the couch with my tacos, watching him work. He moved with the easy confidence of someone who’d been building things his whole life.

Sam worked at his family’s construction company doing small jobs mostly, house repairs, deck building, the occasional renovation. His hands were always slightly rough, scarred from years of manual labor.

"Hand me that screwdriver?" He asked without looking up.

I grabbed it from the toolbox and waddled over. "This one?"

"Perfect." He took it, his fingers brushing mine for just a second. "How are you feeling today?"

"Like I’m smuggling watermelons. Plural." I eased back onto the couch, both hands on my massive belly. "They’ve been kicking all morning. I think they’re fighting for space in there."

Sam chuckled. "Can’t blame them. It’s getting crowded."

"Tell me about it. I can’t remember what my feet look like. Or my bladder. Pretty sure that doesn’t exist anymore."

"Only two more weeks," he said, tightening a bolt.

"Or any day now. Dr. Harrison keeps reminding me twins rarely make it to full term."

"Are you scared?" The question was soft, careful.

I considered lying. But Sam had been nothing but honest with me. He deserved the same.

"Terrified," I admitted. "I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never even held a baby before. And now I’m supposed to take care of two of them? By myself?"

Sam stopped working and turned to look at me. "You’re not by yourself, Elizabeth."

The way he said my fake name made guilt twist in my stomach. He didn’t know he was caring for a ghost. Helping someone who didn’t really exist.

"Sam—"

"I mean it. You’ve got Mabel, Dr. Harrison, Mrs.Albert and even Me." He held my gaze. "You’re not alone in this."

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him so badly.

"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. "Why are you doing all this? You don’t even know me."

"Maybe I want to know you." He said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You’re kind, you work hard. You’re trying to build a life for your babies even though you’re clearly dealing with something you won’t talk about. That’s... that’s admirable, Elizabeth."

"I’m not—" I shook my head. "I’m not who you think I am."

"You’re a woman who’s trying her best. That’s all I need to know."

The kindness in his voice made tears prick my eyes. Damn hormones, I’d been crying at everything lately from commercials to songs on the radio. The way the sunset looked through my window.

"Done." Sam stood up, brushing sawdust off his jeans. "Want to see?"

I hauled myself off the couch and waddled over. Two matching wooden cribs stood side by side in the corner of my apartment. They were simple but beautiful. Safe and made with care.

"Sam, they’re perfect." My voice cracked. "Thank you for everything and.... And I don’t know how I’ll ever—"

"You don’t have to thank me." He reached out and squeezed my shoulder gently. "That’s what friends do."

Friends? Right. Because that’s all this was and all it could be when I was still in love with a man I’d never see again.

"I should get going," Sam said, packing up his tools. "You need to rest. Doctor’s orders."

"I’ll walk you out," I said, following him to the door.

We made it down the stairs and out to his truck parked on Main Street. The evening air was cool, a welcome relief from the stuffiness of my apartment.

"Thanks again, Sam. Really. I don’t know what I would’ve done without—"

The pain hit me like a freight train. It was Sharp, and intense, radiating from my lower back around to my stomach. I gasped, doubling over, one hand flying to my belly.

"Elizabeth?" Sam’s voice was sharp with concern. "What’s wrong?"

"I don’t—" Another pain, stronger this time. And then I felt it. Warm liquid trickling down my legs, soaking my sweatpants. "Oh God."

"Is that—"

"My water just broke." I looked up at him, panic flooding my system. "Sam, my water just broke."

To his credit, Sam didn’t freeze. Didn’t panic. He just moved.

"Okay. Okay. We’re going to the hospital. Right now." He guided me to the passenger side of his truck, one hand steady on my back. "Can you climb in?"

"I think—" Another contraction hit, stronger than the last. I gripped the door handle, breathing through it. "Sam, it’s too soon. It’s two weeks too soon."

"Dr. Harrison said twins come early. This is normal. You’re going to be fine." He helped me into the seat, his voice calm even though I could see the tension in his jaw. "We’re five minutes from the clinic. Just breathe, okay? Breathe."

He ran around to the driver’s side and peeled out, driving faster than I’d ever seen him drive. I gripped the door handle with one hand and my belly with the other, trying to remember the breathing exercises I’d read about in one of those baby books.

"They’re really coming," I said, and I wasn’t sure if I was talking to Sam or myself. "They’re really coming and I’m not ready. I don’t have everything. I don’t know what I’m doing. I—"

"Elizabeth." Sam reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing tight. "You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think."

Another contraction and fuck if they weren’t closer this time. God, they were getting closer.

The clinic came into view and Sam practically crashed into the parking lot. He was out of the truck and at my side in seconds, helping me down.

"Help!" He called out as we stumbled through the doors. "She’s in labor! Twins!"

Dr. Harrison appeared immediately, calm and efficient. "Elizabeth. Right on time, I see. Let’s get you to the delivery room."

The next few hours were a blur of pain and fear and exhaustion. Contractions that felt like they were ripping me apart. Dr. Harrison’s steady voice telling me to push. The nurse holding my hand. And Sam, standing by the door where I could see him, his face a mixture of concern and something else I couldn’t name.

"One more push, Elizabeth. Come on, you’re almost there."

I pushed with everything I had, screaming through the pain.

And then I heard it. A tiny, furious cry.

"It’s a boy!" Dr. Harrison announced, holding up a squirming, red-faced baby covered in vernix and blood and utterly perfect.

Tears streamed down my face. "Is he okay? Is he—"

"He’s perfect. Strong lungs on this one." The nurse took him, cleaning him up quickly. "But we’re not done yet. Let’s get his sibling out, shall we?"

Three more contractions. Three more pushes. And then—

Another cry. Smaller this time, but just as fierce.

"Another boy! Congratulations, Elizabeth. You have two healthy baby boys."

I collapsed back against the bed, sobbing with relief and exhaustion and overwhelming love. Two boys. Two perfect, healthy boys.

They brought them to me, wrapped in thin hospital blankets, their tiny faces scrunched up and red. I held one in each arm, staring down at them like they were miracles.

Which they were.

Grant’s sons. Our sons. Two little pieces of the man I loved, created from a love that had destroyed my entire life but had also given me this.

"They’re beautiful," Sam said quietly from the doorway. He’d stayed the whole time. Hours of labor and he’d never left. "You did amazing."

I couldn’t stop crying. Couldn’t stop staring at their tiny faces.

"Elizabeth?" Sam stepped closer, his voice soft. "What are you going to name them?"

I looked down at my sons. These two tiny humans who represented a fresh start. A new beginning. Hope when I’d thought I had none left.

"Phoenix," I whispered, touching the cheek of the baby in my left arm. "His name is Phoenix."

"That’s beautiful," Sam said. "What about the other one?"

I looked at the baby in my right arm. His eyes were squeezed shut, his little fist curled against his mouth.

"Asher," I said softly. "His name is Asher."

Phoenix and Asher. Rising from the ashes. A new beginning born from the destruction of everything I’d once been.

My sons. My hope. My reason to keep going.

And somewhere, hundreds of miles away, their father had no idea they existed.