Page 127 of Tulips and Lost Time

“Yeah, but Jess and Kane already have Rosalie. No need to have cousins with the same name. What about your parents? Hugh and Sadie.”

“We’re not naming our son after Hugh Grant, no matter how sideways you try to slide in on it,” I chuckle. “And we already have our girl’s name. Sadie’s a cute name though, so maybe next time.”

She scoffs, rubbing circles over her swollen belly and attempting to hide the grimace Billy’s knee elicits. “You’re dreaming if you think I’m risking twins a second time. We’ll adopt,” she hisses. “Or find them in the street and keep them.”

“Felony charges. But you do you, babe. What if we name the boy Marcus?” I peek across and wait for her reaction. Good. Bad. Otherwise. “He named his son for me. He honored me with that, and he’s the second most important guy in your world.”

“Second.” She snickers, her lips curling up and her cheeks filling with a sweet pink. “You’ve always thought quite highly of yourself, haven’t you?”

“What about Dominic?” Nerves flutter in my belly, though it’s odd. Unexplainable, really. “If we’re not using family names, and you’re not jumping at using Marcus for a first name, I’ve always thought Dominic was cool. Dom. He’s a badass. There’s a famous skateboarder named Dominic, and a famous drummer as well. Dom sounds like a motorcycle rider.”

“My son is never getting a motorcycle,” she drawls. “Ever.”

“Dominic is a good, strong name,” I grin. “Dominic sounds like he can fight. He’ll catch up and overtake his sister’s growth once he’s no longer stuck in a tiny womb with no leg room. Then he’ll protect her later. They’ll take over the school, kicking ass and slamming people with skateboards when they act stupid.”

“You’re just planning out their entire futures based on a name?” She purses her lips. Though I see the smile hidden in the twitch. “What if Dom wants to play piano, or become a nurse, or can’t stand up on a skateboard?”

“He can do all of those things.” I twine our fingers together and bring them to my lips. “He and Billy can be whatever the fuck they want to be. Because you and I, and all their uncles and aunties, will have their backs and clear the way for success. It’s why we struggle, Bear. So our kids don’t have to.”

“What happens if our son falls in love with someone he can’t be with?” Her eyes flicker over my face. “What if he sends her away and breaks her heart? Risking a happy future because he was afraid of things going wrong.”

“Then we’ll tell our kids our story.” I press a kiss to her knuckles and pull into town, puttering along residential streets and making my way toward Main. “We’ll tell them how we met, and how we hurt. We’ll tell them the things we went through that were probably completely unnecessary, and then we’ll guide them, hopefully better than we guided ourselves.”

“How you guided us. All that shit was your fault, Luca. I was just being pushed around and told where to go.”

“Yeah.” I place our joined hands in my lap and drop my chin, hitting the indicator as we come upon Main Street. “I was young. Stupid. Impulsive. Hindsight never fails to make me feel like a moron.”

“Just as long as you’re aware.” Her phone rings, buried somewhere in the depths of her pockets, so she steals her hand from mine and tilts to the side to free the device. Pulling it out, then checking the screen, she casts a look my way while answering and placing the call on speaker. “Hello, Jessica. Obsessed with me, or what?”

“Just checking if you’ve popped yet. You’re about ready to go, Big Mama, and I wanna be at the hospital when you do.”

“You’re not invited into the birthing suite,” I grumble. “That’s my wife. You’re my sister. It’s called boundaries.”

She scoffs. “If you respected boundaries, then there wouldn’t be any twins coming any day now. Where are you guys?” She pauses for a beat and listens. “You driving?”

“We’re heading to the hardware store,” Kari drawls, firming her lips. “Luc thought today was a great day to build a fence in the backyard.”

“I’m not building the fence today. I’m sourcing supplies for the fence today. It’s called planning ahead, ladies. You ought to try it sometime.”

Though of course, just as the words leave my mouth, guilt trips along my veins and my eyes shoot to Kari’s. Of the two of us, it was her who styled the nursery. It was her who chose clothes for the babies, shopped for outfits and diapers. She was the one who built the changing table, because I chose shifts in the bus instead. She was the one who sourced formula samples, knowing despite her wishes to exclusively breastfeed, plans are often usurped by reality, and having twins will make breastfeeding more difficult. It was Kari who coordinated the meal trains our friends insisted upon, and Kari whose career will ultimately suffer after taking maternity leave.

“I’m sorry.” Guilt is like a thick, black sludge pumping through my veins. But I grab her hand again, draw it up, and press her palm to my cheek. I make her hold me because I’m weak and an asshole. “I was kidding. I didn’t mean it.”

“Are you dilated yet?” Jess inserts her nose back into our reality, adding a fresh layer of fun to wash away the tension. “How many centimeters?”

“Not really an appropriate question to ask your sister-in-law,” Kari drolls. “You want to know the size of my vagina?”

“I was your friend before he was your husband. So stop being shy and describe your poon to me.”

“For fucks sake.” I release her hand and bring the car to a creeping roll as we approach an intersection. “Please never ask her that question again in front of me. It creeps me out.”

“I’m three centimeters,” Kari answers. “But I’ve been three centimeters for weeks. So that’s not new.”

“Contractions?”

“Nada. Things tighten a little now and then when I’m exerting myself. That’s pregnancy, not labor.”

“Have you picked a baby girl name yet?” Jess pauses for a beat. “Jess is available.”

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