Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Zara’s eyes are fixated on the pictures in her hand, and she looks over at me with tears in her eyes. “Twins?” she repeats, and I can’t help but freak out internally.
“Twins.” I swallow down the lump in my throat as I bend to kiss her. She sits up as the nurse comes in and draws her blood, telling us the results should be in by tomorrow morning.
“Would you like to get the results or is someone else getting them?” she asks us, and I look at her and then at Zara. The look of confusion on both our faces makes her continue. “If you are doing a gender reveal, we usually send it to the person.”
“Um…” Zara hesitates. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“We can email you and then you can forward it once you figure out what you are going to do,” she says, smiling at us. I stand against the wall as Zara gets up and gets back into her clothes.
My head is spinning a million miles a minute. It feels like I’m spinning on my feet, but I’m not. I’m standing straight on my feet. We walk out of the room and head back to the waiting room, where Zara makes another appointment.
We walk out with my hand in hers and the only thing that is going through my head is the fact that if she stays here, I won’t be raising them with her. Patricia and I co-parent Colson, but I usually don’t go two days without seeing him. I can’t even imagine not being able to see them all the time. Them. Two.
“Are you okay?” Zara asks me when we step back into the house, and she drops her keys on the table at the front door. “You are quiet.”
“I guess it’s just shock,” I mumble as I take my jacket off and head over to the couch. Plopping myself down, I put my head back and close my eyes.
“Are you mad?” she asks me softly as she sits down next to me, and my eyes fly open.
“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.”