Page 66 of Interception

“You’re anything but. If anything, the boys are in the wrong. I’d never pass up a chance to get up close and personal with your breasts. And seriously, Zee, they look… wowser.”

“Creepy much? We’re talking about nutrition for our children. Perv.”

“There it is.”

“What?” I say, rolling my eyes at him.

“That smile of yours. How are you feeling other than the feeding?”

“Like a truck ran over my vagina.” He winces at my words. Call a spade a spade—giving birth is brutal.

“Can I change the subject right now, or does that make me an asshole?”

“Please, change the subject.”

“We’ve been calling these two baby A and baby B for three days. Any chance we’re going to agree on names any time soon? I feel like the nurses are judging us.”

“You’re right. We can’t keep calling them A and B. How about you pick a name for A, and I’ll pick one for B?”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Would it be too kitschy to give them names that start with the letters A and B?”

“Oh, I like that. So, names that begin with A. Let me see. Agamemnon?” Trust Coop to make a joke of naming human beings. He always makes me laugh, but my muscles protest every time I so much as chuckle right now.

“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

“Sorry, baby. So that’s a no on Agamemnon?”

“Be serious. Agamemnon Danford? Could you imagine the beatings he’d get at school for a name like that?”

“Even the thought of someone attempting to bully them in the distant future gives me rage.”

“Yep. We’re parents now. We’re going to be worried until the day we die.”

“How about Achilles?”

“Sure. They can be Achilles and Brutus Danford.”

“Brutus. Nice one. If we don’t go historical, what about fruits? Apple and Blueberry Porter-Danford.”

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner.”

“Oh, I’ve got it. Adolf.”

“We could slick his little tufty hair into that side parting and use my eyeliner to give him a mustache.”

“Can we please do that for Halloween? That would be amazing. Could you imagine taking him trick or treating in that get-up?”

“We’re bad parents, aren’t we?”

“Fine. What boring names do you suggest?” He winks at me and gives each of the boys a peck on the cheek as they lay on my chest, not latching onto me.

“Al Falfa and Billy Bob.”

“Oh my, God. Brilliant.” I let myself relax and enjoy just being here with Coop and the boys. “We could go with names that match. Ben and Jerry. Tom and Jerry. Jimmy and Chonga.”

“Wait.”

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