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“Of course not,” I whisper, “it’s just, I can’t see not being here for them.” Her eyes are on mine. “I’m literally torn in two.”
“Gabriel.” She puts her hand on mine.
“No, I have my son who lives over there.” My hand points straight ahead. “Then I have my other two kids living here”—I point at the floor—“and I have you who also lives here.” I wait for her to say something. Wait for her to give me a sign she doesn’t want to be here, that she wants to come back home and live with us. I wait for it, look for it, but nothing is there. All she does is close her eyes.
I see the tears running down her face. “I’m so, so sorry.” She shakes her head. “I’m so, so sorry that this happened.”
I sit up, grabbing her by her hips and turning her so she’s sitting on me. “I’m not.” I push the hair away from her face. “Being sorry would mean that I wouldn’t have you, and I wouldn’t have them.” I kiss her lips. “I’ll never, ever be sorry for that.” She doesn’t say anything. “We’ll work through this.” I pull her to my chest, and she puts her head on my shoulder.
“We’ll work through this,” she repeats softly. We stay wrapped in each other for I don’t even know how long, the two of us not saying a word. I just rub my hand up and down her back. Trying to think of how to be here for her and my kids and at the same time being there for Colson. I think of maybe coming up here every other week and maybe she comes with me the other two. But she has her business here and I have my business there, where I have to be more hands-on.
I feel her weight go heavy on me, and I know she has fallen asleep in my arms. I put my head back on the couch, not wanting to wake her.
She stirs when her phone rings from the front door where she put her purse. She sits up and blinks her eyes. “Lie on the couch.” I move her head to the pillow. “I’ll go get it.”
I get up, walking over to the front door and grabbing her phone. She reaches up to take it, and the phone stops ringing. “It was my mother,” she tells me when I sit down and put her feet in my lap. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“I mean, we can’t say it’s only one baby.” I laugh. “I’m pretty sure that you’ll be bigger than normal.” She glares at me. “Sweetheart, you are carrying two babies. It’s only normal you’ll be a bit bigger.”
“There are phrases that one must never use to a pregnant woman.” She glares at me. “One is bigger than normal.” I nod. “Or you got so big.”
She waits for me to acknowledge her, so I nod. “Got it, next?”
“Anything that goes with the word big, I think should be off the table.” I roll my lips, putting my hand on her hip and rubbing her.
“Duly noted, I shall be on my best behavior,” I assure her, “and if I’m not, I’m sure you will point it out.”
“Oh, I will, don’t you worry about that.” She smirks. “So what do you want to do?”
“About?” I ask, hoping she wants to talk about where she wants to live. Because I know what I want to do. I want to pack her shit up and move it with me tomorrow, but she has to be the one who wants to do that.
“How do you want to tell everyone that we are having twins?” she asks¸ and I just smile.
“I have no idea. I was just going to be like, hey, guess what?” I tell her, and she rolls her eyes. “How did you want to do it?”
“I don’t know; we can surprise everyone.” She sits up, pulling her feet out of my lap. “We should call Sofia.” She doesn’t even wait for me to answer before she gets on her phone, and I hear ringing.
“Hello,” Sofia answers right away. “What did the doctor say?”
“Hey,” Zara replies, “I’m with Gabriel, and we have a question for you.”
“Oh my God, I think the two of you are out of favors,” she huffs, and I laugh. “Ugh, what?”
“Do I tell her?” she whispers to me, and I shrug before I lie down beside her, my hand going to her stomach. “Okay, we went to the doctor today and found out we are having twins.”
She gasps right away, making me laugh. “Shut the fuck up. You guys did not play around.” She laughs. “Oh my God.”
“What can I say? I get the job done.” I look at Zara.
“You know, it’s the female who carries the eggs, right?” Zara glares at me. “It has nothing to do with your sperm.”
“Did my sperm or didn’t my sperm enter the eggs?” I retort. “So I made it happen.”
“Typical man, thinks he had a hand in this,” Sofia huffs.
“If it wasn’t for my sperm, she wouldn’t be pregnant. It’s biology,” I snap. “Hang up the phone,” I tell Zara, who laughs.
“Okay, children, let’s play nice,” Zara scolds. “We did a blood test today, and we are going to find out what the sexes are tomorrow and was thinking of telling everyone with a gender reveal.” I look over at her.
