Page 70 of Interception

“Are you sure? I don’t want to upset his routine or snatch him out of your arms, dear.”

“He’s your grandson. Of course, it’s okay.” She gently hands him off to my mom, enjoying seeing someone besides us loving on him.

“He’s so perfect. Look at his little nose and those pouty lips. He’s going to be a heartbreaker when he’s older.” She’s in love. It’s a surreal moment to see my mom—the woman who raised me—cradling my son in her arms.

“Wait until you see the two of them together.” As if on cue, Blake starts to stir, and Zee gives me that look—the you-jinxed-it look.

“Sounds like you won’t have to wait. I’ll go get him.”

“It’s not a two-way monitor. I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she quips as she disappears down the hall to our bedroom.

The second Zee is out of earshot, my mom levels her verdict. “I like her. The way you look at her… I’ve been waiting years to see you fall in love.”

“She’s incredible, Mom. I’ve never been happier. And the boys…”

“It’s a love no one can prepare you for.”

“Exactly. I look at them, and it’s like a full-body reaction. Like I could stare at them all day long and never get bored.”

Zee appears with Blake in her arms, and I no longer have my mom’s attention. I’m guessing this is something I’m now going to have to get used to since she has grandbabies to enjoy.

“Hey, Blake. Are you ready to meet your grandma?” Zee is so sweet when she talks to the babies, and as she sits down next to my mom to let her see Blake, my heart just melts.

“Oh my goodness, another handsome boy. They really are identical. How do you tell them apart?”

“They already have such different personalities and their own little mannerisms. It’s crazy.” Zee and I don’t dress them the same, which I know is a big thing with multiples, but we want them to be individuals. They’re going to be referred to as ‘the twins’ the second they get out there in the world, at school, and I don’t want that to be a negative for them. They are going to be in the public eye until I’m done with football, and I can shield them as much as possible, but it’s difficult to do my job and keep my private life completely private.

My mom and Zee fall into natural conversation, getting to know each other and bond over the boys, so I try to give them some space and set about cleaning up the baby grenade that seems to have gone off in our kitchen.

It’s insane how much stuff you need to take care of one tiny little human. Doing it in stereo leaves us chasing our tails by the end of every day. Two babies, two parents. If Zee is feeding one, then I’m changing the other. If she’s dealing with diapers, I’m doing bath time.

No one prepares you for the diapers. You think it’s going to be one or two baby wipes and you’re done. I swear to God, I’ve used in excess of twenty wipes on one blowout. There’s no recovering a onesie when either of the boys has had a diaper malfunction. I’m not cleaning that shit—literally, a ton of shit. It’s unbelievable that such a tiny person can create so much shit.

When I’m done making the place presentable, I take my mom’s bags up to the guest room, enjoying the sound of her and Zee laughing in the living room. By the time I’m done, Hunter and Faith have arrived with clean laundry and plenty of food.

We create a production line during dinner, rotating baby duties so we can all eat before the food goes cold. Zee feeds the boys, Faith burps them, and I change diapers. Even Uncle Hunter helps out, getting the boys into fresh onesies for bedtime. He’s surprisingly good with them. I for sure thought he was going to suck at it, but he melts just like the rest of us when the boys are making little cooing noises. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and Faith start making mini Vaughns sometime soon.

With the boys cleaned up and ready for bed, my mom does the honors of snuggling them until they fall asleep. She has a perma-grin, ignoring the rest of us while she marvels at her grandbabies. It feels strange sitting at the dinner table with Zee, Hunter, and Faith.

They have been our saviors since we got home from the hospital. If it weren’t for them, Zee and I would’ve died of malnutrition by this point. The dynamics of our friendships have changed ever so slightly but in the best of ways. Without any of Zee’s family in the picture, and me just having my mom, Hunter and Faith have gone above and beyond to help us find our feet.

Hunter has felt like a brother to me for years, and I know Zee and Faith are closer than sisters. But now that they’re married and we’re married with twins, our sense of family is stronger than ever. Faith was right there with us in the delivery room, and she reminds us of the mental scarring she endured out of love. She’s become family to me in such a short space of time, and I know Zee feels the same way about Hunter.

We couldn’t have asked for better friends or more fitting godparents for the boys.

My mom knows Hunter pretty well after our time at the Titans, and he charms the pants off her just like he does with every other woman on the planet. If he could bottle that shit, he’d be even richer than he is now.

While the boys are snoozing and we’re all chatting in the living room, Zee and I are struggling to keep our eyes open, dropping in and out of conversations, missing at least half of what’s being said.

“Why don’t you two go and get some rest?” Even at twenty-nine, my mom hasn’t stopped mothering me.

“I’m fine.” My words would be more convincing if my head didn’t drop right after I said them. I hate that feeling of nodding off and startling yourself. It seems to be a common occurrence these days.

“You’re both exhausted. You should get some sleep before the boys need to be fed again. It’s true what they say… when baby sleeps, you sleep.”

“That would be great if they slept for more than five seconds.”

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