ONE MONTH LATER ...
Till and I are sitting in my car outside the house after having just had another ultrasound. The grandmothers are inside with the kids, eagerly awaiting the sex of the babies. Apparently, unisex twin outfits just aren’t good enough.
I couldn’t care less about the sex. As long as they’re happy and healthy in there, it’s all good with me. And I told Tilly as much, but she, too, wanted to find out their sex so she could be better prepared.
Lifting our joined hands to my mouth, I press a kiss to the back of Till’s and murmur, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Her smile is the most beautiful thing in the world to me. And her steadily expanding belly is a close second. “You ready?” I ask.
“As I’ll ever be.” She chuckles.
Today is also the day when we tell the kids they’re about to be getting a couple of new siblings.
We walk in the front door. Astrid is there, waiting for us, her arms crossed over her chest, her hip cocked to the side, and her little foot tapping against the tiles. “We need to talk,” she says.
“Okay, but can it wait a couple of minutes, sweetheart?” Tilly asks. “We just need to have a quick chat with your grandmas, then we’re all yours.”
Astrid nods, turns on her plastic princess heels, and walks away.
Sailor is in the child-sized armchair I bought him a couple of weeks ago, busy reading a book on human anatomy. And Ari is having a tea party with Mr. Pickles and her dollies.
“So?” my mother asks as we enter the kitchen.
I grin and cast my eyes to Till. She gives me the go-ahead with a short nod, and I tell them, “Both boys.”
“I told you,” Trudie says to Gia, who digs in her pocket and hands over a ten-dollar note.
Tilly scoffs, “You bet on the sex of your grandbabies? What kind of grandmothers are you?”
“The very best kind, darling, the very best.” Gia winks.
Till shakes her head, and we laugh at their antics. Our kids are so lucky to have these strong, beautiful women in their lives.
“Okay, we’ll go now and let you deliver the big news to the others,” Mum says, motioning towards the front door to Trudie and Gia.
“Alright, we’re going, we’re going,” Trudie says, rolling her eyes at my mother before she gives Till a quick squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.
When they’ve filed out, we call Astrid into the lounge where Sailor and Ari are already playing. She glides down the hall and into the room dressed in a new princess gown. “Are you ready for our talk?” she asks.
I smother a smile and nod. “We sure are, princess. What’s up?”
“Mummy’s getting fat, and Sailor says it’s because she’s going to give us a cousin-brother. I don’t know what that is, but I told him she ate a watermelon seed and now it’s growing in her belly,” she states.
We sit on the couch, staring at her. Damn, I had no idea how perceptive they were.
Sailor lays his book flat in his lap and shakes his head at his big sister. “That doesn’t really happen, Astrid,” he says, holding a hand across his forehead like he’s embarrassed his sister actually believes her watermelon theory.
Seemingly anticipating an argument about to break out between Astrid and Sailor, Tilly says, “Okay, well, Lee and I actually wanted to talk to you guys about that.”
Astrid gives Sailor a cocky look then sits on the couch beside Till.
“Ari, pretty girl, come here for a sec,” I call to her. She’s lost in her own little world, pouring tea for Mr. Pickles. Her blonde head pops up, and she gives me a gut-clenchingly beautiful smile before she puts her teapot down and skips over to me.
Once I have her on my lap, Tilly begins, “Lee and I love each other, and we love you guys so, so much.” She pauses, taking a second to look at each of her children in turn. “And we thought, you are such good kids and so loving and kind that maybe you would like a new baby to shower with all that goodness.”
Astrid gives her a sceptical eyebrow raise, Ari frowns, and Sailor jumps out of his armchair, hurling a fist into the air. “I knew it! I’m getting a cousin-brother!”
“Not quite, big man,” I interject. He comes to a stop mid-booty shake. “You’re getting two,” I tell him.
His jaw goes slack, and he blinks at us. “Two?”
Tilly and I nod, then Sailor takes off, running around the lounge, pumping his fists in the air, woo-wooing. Mr. Pickles picks up on his excitement and chases after him until they get tangled up, and they both hit the ground. Sailor rolls around with his piglet, laughing and crying out, “Two cousin-brothers!”
“You guys, this is too much,” I tell Charlotte and Reagan when they walk into my house loaded down with gift bags.
Reagan smiles at me and shakes her head. “Are you kidding me? We’re just getting started. I found this adorable boutique a couple of blocks from my place that has the cutest little baby shoes I’ve ever seen. I had no idea everything was cuter when it was miniaturised.”
“I know, right?” Char agrees with her.
I grin and shake my head. “I love you guys.”
“We know,” they say in unison then burst out laughing. Charlotte grabs a cushion off the couch, sits on the floor, and starts upending bags while Reagan sets about making us coffees.
“What are you doing?” I ask Char.
She turns her eyes to me and shrugs. “You’ll take too long to open them all individually. I’m cutting out the middle man.”
“Right,” I mutter.
“You sit, and I’ll hold everything up for you to see. Anything you don’t like we can return.”
I doubt I’ll be letting them return anything—these girls have good taste.
A moment later, Reags strides back into the lounge room with a tray holding three steaming-hot mugs. Unfortunately, Mr. Pickles has developed a bit of a crush on our Reagan and dashes straight for her, tripping her up. The coffees go flying, and Reagan goes down, tray still in hand.
“I’m okay!” she yells, her head popping up on the other side of the coffee table.
Charlotte and I throw back our heads, laughing.
“I can’t take you anywhere,” Char says, chuckling.
“It wasn’t even my fault,” Reagan huffs. “It was this disgustingly cute little piggy’s fault. I wonder if Rhett would let me get a miniature pig? He can’t say no if I just bring one home, right?”
“Only one way to find out,” I tell her as she rights herself then goes about cleaning up the spilt liquid and retrieving the mugs that luckily landed on the rug and didn’t smash.
“Hey, you know how you said the babies are going to be identical? Well, I’ve been doing some research—”
“Oh, here we go,” Char teases, poking her tongue out at Reagan who pokes hers right back then flips her off.
I chuckle. They’re as bad as my children.
“Anyway, did you know that, even though they’re identical, they won’t have the same fingerprint? How cool is that?” Reagan says, eyes filled with wonder.
I tilt my head, not understanding. “But isn’t that the definition of identical? They’ll have the same DNA?”
She nods then goes into what I call ‘Reagan mode.’ “So, at first it will be the same. But between six and thirteen weeks, they start moving around in there and touching the amniotic sack. That’s what creates unique little ridges and lines on their teensy-tiny little fingers.”
“That’s actually pretty cool,” I tell her. “You’ll have to let Sailor know. He’s been looking for as many twin facts as he can get his hands on.”
Reagan beams. “I love that kid.”
I chuckle. “Me too.”
Later that afternoon, I’m woken from an impromptu nap on the couch by music coming from the kitchen. I roll to my side, heave myself up, and poke my head around the corner. Lee is dancing with the kids while he cooks them dinner in nothing but a backwards baseball cap and a pair of low-slung jeans.
My mouth waters—and not from the heavenly aroma of whatever he’s cooking, but the sight before me. He is, by far, the hottest thing I have ever seen. Throw in the fact that he’s including the kids, and my ovaries are jumping for joy. I’m having his babies. His.
I’m the luckiest woman in the whole goddamn world.