The bright red numbers on the alarm clock read 3:24. Even in the blackness of the night, enough moonlight is filtering through the window, spilling over my sleeping wife’s face as she lays beside me. My eyes wander over her face, then down to her pregnant stomach hugged tightly against a fluffy body pillow. And for some reason, best friends come to my mind. Is it possible to have more than one? My mother had always told me when I was younger that whoever you marry should be your best friend. My wife is definitely that and more. But then there’s my brothers, such constant figures in my life. We’ve been through everything with each other growing up. But it wasn’t really until the past few years that I’ve come to depend on them as much as I do now. They are definitely my best friends as well. And then there’s Landis. How can I mention my childhood without mentioning Landis? She’s been just as constant a figure as Isaac and Zac, always a source of advice for my girl troubles, always running around with the boys and unafraid of getting dirty. I couldn’t possibly consider Landis any less than a best friend. I know my wife is sometimes a little jealous of the relationship I share with Landis, but she’s understanding and she trusts me, which I’m so thankful for.

Yes, it must be possible to have more than one best friend. Somehow, I’ve been blessed with four in my life.

Unable to stop my brain from thinking, to make myself fall back asleep, I touch my lips to Jackson’s forehead softly before slipping from the bed and making my way down the hall to our son’s bedroom. A cold gust of air hits me as soon as I step through the cracked open door, and my eyes go immediately to the window. It was left cracked open, the wind billowing the curtains out into the room. I cross my arms over my chest as I hurry across the room to shut it firmly. Then I look over at my son, fast asleep and curled up in a ball, his covers kicked down to the foot of the bed. I sit carefully at his side, trying not to wake him. After pulling the sheets and comforter up and tucking them around him, I brush aside his light brown hair and lightly kiss his forehead, much as I had just done to his mother. It’s a habit I have. I can’t make myself pass one of them sleeping on the sofa, or even get out of bed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night without kissing their foreheads.

Only this time, I must not have been as careful as I had been with Jackson, because his eyes fluttered open. “Daddy?” he says groggily.

“Shhh,” I whisper. “Go back to sleep, Jesiah. I love you.”

“Love you too, Daddy…” he sighs. His large brown eyes, so much like his mother’s, fall closed once again, and I know he’s already lost in the folds of sleep.

I slip out of the room as quietly as possible, pulling the door half closed. Why can’t I sleep? I think to myself. A quick glance across the hall into the nursery answers my unspoken question. It’s the babies. I make my way through the house to the kitchen, suddenly craving a tall glass of ice water. I know my subconscious fear about missing the birth of the twins was what had kept me awake to all hours of the night for the last few weeks. Especially now that they’re expected to arrive any day now. When Jesiah was born, I had nearly missed it. I don’t want anything to happen that would prevent me from being there for every minute of the twins’ birth.

After pouring the glass of water, I hop up onto the counter to drink it, staring into the living room at the framed black-and-white photo of Jackson and I from our wedding two years before. It always reminds me of our first date so many years ago when she had told me of the wedding she’d dreamed of having since she was a little girl. Five and a half years later, I had done my best to make that dream wedding a reality. And I think I’d done a good job of pulling it off.

When I met Jackson Neves, I had just recently turned fifteen, and she was still fourteen, her birthday coming up in a few months. Once a month, the local playground had dances in their gym for anyone between the ages of twelve and sixteen. Landis had gone to them with her girlfriends whenever she could, but I had never been to one until that night. After complaining ridiculously how bored I would be that night, Landis had convinced me to join her and her friends. I agreed, dragging my friend Luke with me. We walked in, and I swear, hers was the only face I could look at.

Her thick, chestnut brown hair hung down her back, nearly brushing her waist. Even from across the dark gym, I could see the sparkle in her deep brown eyes. Her entire face lit up when she smiled. I would never go so far to say I fell in love with her at first sight. I don’t believe in that. But I looked at her that first time, and I knew I could fall in love with her if given the opportunity.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had laid eyes on her, because Luke did his best to win her over with his coarse and juvenile tactics. Like most girls, she appeared disgusted. Luke seemed to have that affect on the fairer sex. Noticing her reaction to him, I saw my opportunity to act as rescuer. After apologizing for his behavior, I began talking to her, and we danced several times before the night was over. I left with her phone number, and that’s where our history began.

Between that night and the present, Jackson and I have overcome many obstacles, some that I wouldn’t wish on anyone else. It hasn’t always been easy for the two of us, and there were days when I gave consideration to completely giving up on her, on us. But at this moment, as I think of Jackson asleep upstairs, two tiny lives growing inside her, and of Jesiah, my son who I love more than my own life, I curse every second in time when I ever thought of leaving her. And if I could erase them, I would, without a second of hesitation.

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