by T. J. Klune
We gape at her.
Her eyes widen. “Oh my god, that was just a joke. I’m not going to keep them. I swear! These twins are yours. I’m just an incubator.”
“Twins,” Otter says faintly.
“I have powerful sperm,” I announce to no one in particular. “Super sperm. I am so damn fertile. Why did I never know that about myself?”
“Okay,” Megan says slowly. “Let’s move this inside. I wasn’t kidding about the boob sweat.” And with that, she shoves her way between us, both of us recoiling with a hiss as we accidentally brush against her stomach. “Oh boy. This is going to be hysterical. I wish I hadn’t left my phone in the car so I could record this.”
Otter shuts the door, and we both trail after her as she starts prodding and poking at everything she can get her hands on.
I try to remember my manners. “Can I take your coat?” I ask.
“She’s not wearing a coat,” Otter whispers fiercely. “It’s summer.”
“Well, I don’t know what else to say! It was either that or offer her salmon, because I read it’s good for pregnant women, but we don’t have any salmon. And whose fault is that, hmm? Oh, I don’t know, maybe yours? You were just at the store yesterday. You couldn’t have picked some up to prepare for situations just like this?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to buy salmon! You made the damn shopping list for this party, not me! And who the hell prepares for situations like this? Name one other person you know who has gotten a phone call that their unborn child has magically turned into two unborn children.”
“Jesus, Otter, it’s not magical. It’s science. Even I know that.”
“It was a figure of speech!”
“Magical babies is a figure of speech? That doesn’t even make sense. Who do you think you are? Me? Because I would have gotten the salmon!”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Megan says easily. “The smell of fish is not doing anything for me right now. Believe me, you don’t want to see projectile vomiting. It’s… disgustingly athletic. And I’m mostly past the morning sickness, so I’d like to keep it that way. I wouldn’t say no to some yogurt right now. Maybe some walnuts, if you have them. And what party are you having? I like balloons. You guys have a lot of balloons.” She squints adorably up at the banner stretched out across the living room. “Welcome Home, Tyson! Oh! That’s right. He’s coming home today. Oh shoot. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just thought—”
I hadn’t even seen Otter disappear, but suddenly he’s standing next to me with a handful of walnuts and a container of Greek yogurt. “Here,” he says dumbly, thrusting them out at her.
She cocks her head at him. “Thank you.” She holds out her hand and doesn’t even flinch when he drops the walnuts onto it, some of them sticking to Otter’s palm. She takes the yogurt from him with her other hand and frowns down at it. “No spoon?”
“You forgot the spoon?” I ask, horrified. “How dare you! She is giving us two magical babies and you can’t even get her a spoon!”
Otter pales again. “I forgot. I can’t believe I forgot the spoon. We’re having twins, and I just grabbed nuts and yogurt and didn’t even bring a spoon. I’m going to be a terrible father.”
“Okay,” Megan says. “It’s fine. I have fingers. And a handful of walnuts. This is good for now. Why don’t we all just take a seat? My ankles are sore, and that couch looks comfortable.”
“I can rub your ankles!” I say. “Like, massage them and stuff. I learned how!”
“On the internet,” Otter tells her. “He looked it up on the internet. He’s learning how to use it.”
“You two are so cute,” she says with a grunt as she sinks down on the couch.
We trail after her helplessly. Once she’s seated, we stand above her. She sighs and nods toward the other couch. “Sit. Hovering isn’t going to help.”
We sit immediately on either side of her, crowding in as close as we can.
She sighs. “Other couch, guys. Boob sweat.”
We scramble to the other couch, and I feel a savage satisfaction as Otter trips on the rug. Serves him right for knocking me into the wall when going for the door earlier, the bastard.
We stare at her as we sit down.
She daintily dips her finger into the yogurt and then into her mouth before she groans. “God, that’s so good. Like, so good. It’s weird, you know? I hate yogurt, except for when I’m pregnant. Babies make your body do the strangest things.”
“Babies,” Otter says weakly.
“As in plural,” I whisper.
“Plural,” she agrees, munching on a walnut. “This didn’t happen the first pregnancy. That would have been hysterical, though. That couple was a little more… high-strung, than the two of you.”
“I really don’t believe that,” Otter says, side-eyeing me for some reason.
I ignore him. “How is this possible?”
She shrugs. “It happens. Or so my OB told me. It’s not exactly common, but then the sonogram can’t pick up everything right away, especially when one wants to hide behind the other. But the good news is both babies are healthy, and everything looks exactly how it should be. So there is really nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about,” I repeat slowly. “We thought we were having one kid, and now you’re pregnant with twins, and there’s nothing to worry about.”
She grins through a mouthful of yogurt. “You know when you go to the store and it’s buy one, get one free? Same deal. Except it’s babies. You’re getting twice what you paid for!”
“That… oddly made sense,” Otter says. “And I—”
“Oh, and do you want to know the sex of the other baby? You knew the first was a boy.”
Our jaws both drop.
She grimaces. “Darn. I am so breaking protocol. You really can’t tell the surrogacy center about this. I’ll be blacklisted for life. I figure I can get pregnant three or four more times. My boyfriend likes me pregnant.”
“Your boyfriend has a pregnancy kink?” I demand, outraged. “Those are my children in there.”
She shrugs. “Hey, I don’t judge. And neither should you. It’s our thing. I’m sure you and Otter have kinks too.”
“We don’t,” I retort. “We’re very vanilla.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Otter says. “I mean, we do that one thing with the—why the hell are we talking about this. You know what sex the new one is?”
The new one. Jesus Christ.
She nods, chewing on her bottom lip.
Otter and I look at each other for a long time. We hadn’t planned on finding out, wanting to be surprised, but Megan, bless her heart, had accidentally let slip that we were having a boy a couple of weeks ago. It wasn’t a bad thing, especially with the look on Otter’s face at hearing that. And she is right here in front of us, all pregnant and everything, and we could just—
Two things happen at once.
A thump comes from upstairs.
The doorbell rings.
Megan looks up toward the ceiling. “Someone else here?”
“Yes,” I say without thinking. “My estranged mother died and my little sister who I’ve never met before showed up on our doorstep wanting to live with us.”
“And that’s my parents,” Otter says, craning his neck to look out the front window. “Early, as usual. Oh, by the way, can you do us a favor? We haven’t told anyone you exist yet, so just… don’t exist.”
Megan gapes at us as we stand at the same time.
I don’t even want to know what she’s thinking.
“Mom, Dad,” Otter says as he opens the front door. “You’re early. Again.”
“Oh, pish posh,” Alice Thompson says breezily as she pushes her way inside. “A lady is never early. She arrives precisely when she is meant to.” She kisses me on the cheek as she passes me by. She thrusts the box she’s carrying into my arms. It’s heavier than I thought it would be, and I almost drop it. It’s loaded with a Crock-Pot filled w
ith meatballs, and other dishes.
“We just wanted to make sure we were here before Tyson got home,” Jerry Thompson said, sounding apologetic. “And those meatballs need time to cook, anyway. They’re meatless. Meatless meatballs.” He shakes his head. “What will they think of next?”
“You let her cook?” Otter hisses as his mother sashays toward the kitchen. “You know what happens when she does that.”
Jerry snorts. “Son, if you think she needs my permission to do anything, you’re not paying attention.”
We follow them helplessly to the kitchen.
“Bear,” Alice says. “Set the box on the counter, okay? I need to get started—hello. Who might you be?”
Megan is standing at the fridge, sucking yogurt off her finger. “Sorry,” she says, sounding chagrinned. “But I really needed to get more of this. You guys sure know how to buy yogurt.”
And some primal part of me feels extremely satisfied at providing for the woman carrying my brood.
I cough violently, trying to clear that thought from my head.
“It’s okay,” Otter says, sounding nervous. “It’s—”
“I’m Megan.” She sticks her hand out toward Alice, a little bit of yogurt still left on her finger. “Megan Ridley.”
Alice doesn’t even flinch when she takes her hand. “Alice Thompson. This is my husband, Jerry. And you, my dear, are pregnant.”
Her eyes widen a little as she glances at Otter and me before looking back at Alice. “Uh, yes? Yes. I am… so pregnant.”
Another thump comes from upstairs.
We all look up at the ceiling.
The doorbell rings.
“That’s just my little sister, who I met for the first time today,” I told Alice and Jerry hastily. “Excuse us. We have to get the door.”
“That’s your what?” Alice calls after us.
“I sneezed and stuff came out onto my hand,” JJ says as soon as we open the door. He holds his hand up, and sure enough, there is stuff on it.
“Dude, you are so gross,” Creed says, sounding proud, a Baby Bjorn attached to his chest, AJ’s eyes wide and bright. He looks like a little Creed, and I’m sure Anna just loves it.
“JJ,” Anna scolds. “Give me your hand so I can clean it.”
“But I don’t want you to clean it,” he says. “I want to keep it.”
“Sorry,” Creed says, though he’s grinning. “Kids, right?”
“Kids,” I squeak. “As in plural. Otter, I think I’m about to die.”
“You’re not dying,” Otter says, though he doesn’t sound very sure. “I promise.”
Anna narrows her eyes at us as she fights JJ to wipe the remnants of his sneeze off his hand. “What’s going on?”
“Today is weird,” I say, sounding slightly manic. “Like, you don’t even know how weird. I’m pretty sure I’m dying.”
“He’s not dying,” Otter insists. “He wouldn’t dare leave me now.”
AJ screeches, waving his chubby fists in the air.
“Is that my grandchildren I hear?” Jerry says from somewhere behind us.
“Grandpa!” JJ shrieks, pulling away from Anna and knocking against our legs as he pushes between us. “Mom wouldn’t let me keep my sneeze ghost!”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Jerry says cheerfully. “But your grandma made cookies. We should go see if we can steal one.”
“As long as they aren’t oatmeal raisin,” JJ says. “Because those are the worst.”
“They are Tyson’s favorite, and this is his surprise party,” Jerry reminds him.
“His parties are gross,” JJ says. “We always have to eat food that looks like my sneeze ghosts.”
“Ah, things make much more sense.”
“You guys both look like you’re freaking out,” Creed says as Otter shuts the door behind him. He opens his mouth to speak again, but before he does, he covers AJ’s ears. Satisfied, he says, “Is it some weird sex thing? Did Mom and Dad walk in on you guys doing something super gay? Like decorating and rimming at the same time?”
Anna sighs. “I don’t think that’s a thing they do.”
“What?” Creed says. “Of course it is. It’s not that hard. Oh joy, this two-hundred-dollar throw pillow looks so good on the chaise lounge that I’m currently bent over while you lick my butthole. See? Even I can do it.” He frowns. “The impression, that is. I can’t actually decorate. And when we tried rimming, you—”
“This is probably not the time to discuss any of this,” Anna says, voice sticky sweet.
“Right,” Creed says. “I could totally use a beer.”
“It’s two thirty.”
“Hey, I took the day off today so we could be here. And tomorrow is Saturday. There has never been a more appropriate time for day drinking.”
We follow them into the kitchen.
JJ is shoving cookies into his face, a pile of raisins on the counter.
Jerry is doing the same thing.
Megan’s eating walnuts, not looking concerned that she’s been cornered by Alice, whose eyebrows are high on her forehead.
“Mom,” Creed says. “Dad. Spawn of my loins.” JJ waves at him. “And pregnant lady who I do not know.”
“Hi!” Megan says. “I’m Megan.”
Anna’s eyes widen a little before she turns to look at me and Otter. “Is she…? You didn’t—is that—”
Another thump comes from overhead.
The doorbell rings.
We all look at the ceiling.
“Mom dead,” I say, pulling Otter out of the kitchen. “Never-before-seen little sister.”
“What?” Creed and Anna yelp at the same time.
We hear JJ sneeze before he shouts, “Sneeze ghost! And you brought oatmeal. Dad, look.”
Stephanie and Ian Grant stand on the porch of the Green Monstrosity, carrying four bottles of wine.
“I love you both so much,” I tell them fervently. “Like, so hard. You don’t even know.”
“See?” Ian says to his wife. “That’s how you greet a guest. People these days don’t know how to have class anymore. We love you too, Bear.”
Stephanie eyes us both curiously. “Why are you both so sweaty? Is everything all right?”
“I don’t even know anymore,” Otter says honestly. “I’m convinced this is nothing but a fever dream.”
“You do look awfully pale,” Stephanie says, reaching up to feel Otter’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?”
“Holy shit!” I hear Creed shout from somewhere behind us. “Dude, you look exactly like the Kid and Bear did when they were little. You’re like… you’re like a girl Bear and Ty.”
“Oh no,” I moan before I grab a bottle of wine out of Ian’s hand and turn back toward the kitchen.
Isabelle McKenna is standing at the edge of the kitchen, eyeing everyone warily. She’s wearing one of Ty’s old shirts (DROPPING FRESH BEETS) and a pair of cutoff sweats that we’d cinched at her waist. Her eyes are a little puffy, and her hair is in disarray. She looks a little relieved when she sees me, and that causes my heart to stutter in my chest.
Creed looks a little shocked. “Dude,” he says. “She looks like—”
“I know,” I say, setting the wine bottle on the counter. “Someone open that and pour me a glass now.”
“Day drinking,” Creed says to Anna. “If Bear gets to do it, then I should be able to.”
“You okay?” I ask my little sister, unsure of what I should be doing. I reach out and awkwardly pat her on the shoulder. “There, there.”
She rolls her eyes. “Gosh, I’m reassured now. Thanks so much for that. Who are all these people?”
“Oh, um. I guess… they’re your family?”
She looks a little taken aback by that. “My what?”
“Wow, so I didn’t think we would do this now, but here we are.” I take a deep breath. “Family, this is Isabelle McKenna. My little sister. Izzie, this is… everyone.�
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They all wave at her in unison.
“Creepy,” she breathes.
“Do you like meatballs that aren’t actually meat?” Alice asks her. “Because I made more than I probably should have.”
And for some reason, that piques her curiosity. “Why are they still called meatballs, then?”
Alice frowns at the Crock-Pot. “I honestly have no idea. I mean, they’re mushrooms made to look like meatballs, so I guess they’re mushroom balls?”
“Are you all vegetarians?” Izzie asks, sounding horrified.
“Oh god no,” Creed says. “That’s just the Kid. But Mom has got it in her head that whenever he eats with us, we all have to eat the same crap—I mean, the delicious food my mother prepares.”
“Nice save,” Jerry whispers.
“I’m not a vegetable-arian,” JJ says. “That’s stupid. I like bacon.”
Creed high-fives his son before he grimaces.
“Sneeze ghost,” JJ says gleefully.
“Why has no one poured me a glass of wine?” I ask dangerously.
At least three people scramble to make it happen.
“It’s a lot,” Otter says, squatting down in front of Izzie. “I know. Especially after everything that’s happened. And I promise you we’ll figure everything out. Do you want to go back upstairs? If you do, that’s okay. One of us can go with you. Or you can stay down here with us. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. And I promise I won’t leave your side.”
She doesn’t look away from Otter, like she’s sussing him out, gauging his sincerity. “I know I—” She lowers her voice before she continues. “—cried earlier, but I am already thirteen now. I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.”
“Sure,” Otter says easily. “And I know you do a good job of it. But whatever you want, you just let me know, and I’ll make it happen, okay?”
She nods slowly. “Okay.”
“Cool,” he says. “Do you want—”
“Thirteen, huh?” Megan says, coming to stand next to Otter. “You’re very pretty.”
“I just woke up from a nap,” she mutters, looking down, tugging on the shirt like she’s suddenly self-conscious.