Page 25 of This Means War

“Well, you’re going to be doing an ultrasound here in a minute, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, I’m thinking when you’re moving your little stick thing–”

“The transducer,” she supplies.

“Yes, that. When you’re moving the transducer around on my stomach, you’ll pause and look thoughtful all of the sudden. Then you’ll peer closely at the screen.” I demonstrate, caught up in the idea as I imagine it. “‘Well, what do we have here,’ you’ll say… ‘What? What is it?’ Cole will ask as he joins you, peering at the screen… ‘Look at that!’ you’ll exclaim, ‘It’s twins!’” I finish laying out the dramatic scene, then look at her for her reaction.

Gabby studies me for a second, then promptly bursts out laughing.

“What? What’s so funny?” I ask her, slightly deflated by her reaction. She doesn’t get a chance to answer me though, because Cole chooses that moment to walk back into the room.

“Sorry about that,” he tells us, running a hand through his hair. “Crisis at work.” Work? Is that what we’re calling ex-girlfriends now?

“No problem.” Gabby looks as if she’s still on the edge of laughter. If she doesn’t pull it together, we’ll never get away with tricking him! Not that she agreed to do it, but I’m holding onto hope that her laughter signified consent. “It’s time for the ultrasound now. Are you two ready for your first look at baby?” I forget about my matrimonial war for a minute as her words sink in. We’re going to see the baby!

Gabby squirts gel on my stomach as Cole comes to stand next to me. As she touches the transducer tip to my skin and a black and white image appears on the screen, I feel Cole take my hand. For a moment we’re united in anticipation, then the room is filled with the most incredible whooshing sound I’ve ever heard. I forget to breathe as Gabby announces, “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.” She sounds so calm, so nonchalant, like this isn’t a life-changing moment. My gaze is transfixed on thescreen, even though I can’t figure out what any of the white blobs are. Cole squeezes my hand.

“What’s this?” Gabby breaks off suddenly, and my focus shifts back to her in an instant. She’s doing it! She’s going to drop the twin bomb! Next to me Cole sits up straighter. The transducer slides across my belly. “Look at that.” She points to the screen, and I work to suppress my glee. “It’s twins.”

Pursing my lips against the laughter trying to escape my body, I swivel my head to catch Cole’s reaction. He’s looking at me…and his lips are also pursed. Wait, what? I frown; why is he not freaking out? That’s when I hear more laughter. Cole and I both look at Gabby, who is bent over on her chair, her silent laughter bursting out in random guffaws.

“What’s happening?” Cole demands.

“You,” Gabby gestures to him, still laughing, “and you,” she indicates me, “must be made for each other because you both asked me to tell the other person it was twins, just to freak them out.”

I side-eye Cole. He’s shaking his head like he can’t believe this either. Our eyes meet and, like a dam bursting, laughter explodes out of both of us simultaneously. We sit there laughing together, until Gabby puts the probe back on my stomach, letting the sound of our baby’s heartbeat fill the room once more. She shifts it sideways, more whooshing. Gabby raises her gaze to ours, a twinkle in her brown eyes. “I should tell you though that, all jokes aside, you guys actuallyarehaving twins.”

Chapter 20

Lydia

THAT NIGHT COLE and I sit at his kitchen island eating cereal straight from the box, both of us unable to go to the trouble of pouring it into a bowl, because our brains are too overloaded by this news. Twins. Two babies. It was so funny when I thought I could pull one over on Cole, make him feel the panic that has now seeped its way into every crevice of my body. Now that it’s true, the humor has vanished. Twins!

I look at my stomach. It’s still flat. Well, at least as flat as it usually is. So, flat-ish. My arms swing up encircling my navel, experimentally I move them out, imagining just how big I’m going to get. I stop when my hands hit the island, scooting my chair back to give my imaginary bump more room. Cole watches, his fistful of Fruit Hoops frozen halfway to his mouth. I move my gaze to his in an unspoken question. Cole extends his free hand and moves my hands out another inch. I glower at him, and let my hands fall to my sides.

“Hey,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, “you’re the one who said your uterus was going to grow to 500 times its normal size for just one baby. It follows that for two, it’ll grow to 1,000 times its size.”

I’m not proud of the fact that I hurl a handful of my own cereal, Crunch Squares, straight at his face, but I am proud of the fact that when he retaliates with a handful of Fruit Hoops, I dodge out of the way so fast, not one of them hits me.

“Ha! Too slow,” I taunt, tossing another few squares of cereal at him.

Competitiveness sparks in his eyes, and a second later he’s up and chasing me around the island, the whole box of Fruit Hoops in his hands, poised to dump over my head. I squeal, hearing cereal crunch under my feet and not caring. I fling cereal behind me as I run, hoping some hits him. He turns trying to cut me off by going in the opposite direction and I stop, my legs tensed as I try to predict his movements.

“You know I’m a track coach, right?” I smirk. “And I ran the 200-meter dash in college.”

“Too bad it wasn’t the hurdles,” he retorts.

“What?” I ask in confusion, but he doesn’t answer, just quick as a flash throws down the two stools so they block one path, then dashes the other way to reach me. In blind panic I rush towards the stools, but they’re sprawled across the floor in such a way that I have to maneuver carefully around them so that I don’t fall. Cole catches me in no time,grabbing me by the waist then proceeding to dump the entire contents of his box on my head.

It’s weird, having Fruit Hoops rain down over me, their dust landing on my eyelashes and making my eyes blink rapidly, the sugary smell filling my nostrils. The strangest part, though, is what being pressed up against Cole is doing to my heart. It’s racing in my chest and shivers are running through me from my spine down to my very toes. His brown eyes find mine, and I wonder if he’s at all affected by me, but then I remember I’m covered in Fruit Hoops. He’s used to the put together beauty of Ashley Allen, not the dusty, frizzy ponytail-wearing mess that I am.

Still holding me in place with one arm, Cole reaches up and brushes a Fruit Hoop off the top of my head. The triumphant expression slides from his face at the contact, and my breath catches in my throat. Is he going to–

“Yoo-hoo!” A voice from the front of the house makes us jump apart. Cole bangs his foot on one of the stools and lets out a curse just as an older couple walks into the kitchen, suitcases in their wake. It takes me a second, but then I recognize them as Cole’s parents. Joel and Felicia. Or Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson, as I was always supposed to call them. What will I call them now? I eye Mr. Jacobson, whose face always seems stuck in a disapproving frown, and can’t imagine calling him Dad.

“Mom, Dad.” Cole looks completely taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

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