Page 57 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

“No way,” I say, reaching out to scratch her behind the ears. “You can’t be pregnant, can you?”

She gives me a look with her one good eye. It feels like she’s judging me, telling me I’m a little slow to catch on.

I sit back, stunned. A pregnant cat. The guys will never believe it.

Gremlin settles on the couch, finally calm. I watch her, feeling a pang of sympathy. I know what it’s like to be out of your element. I’ve been feeling off myself lately.

At first, I thought it was the altitude finally getting to me. Headaches, nausea, feeling tired all the time. But it’s been weeks, and I should be used to it by now.

I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes. Maybe it’s stress. My life flipped upside down when I left the city. I’m still getting used to being Ivy, not Ivy Blake the reality star.

Still, the symptoms are hard to ignore. I’ve been more emotional, too. I cried over a bird yesterday. It was so damn beautiful it brought tears to my eyes. I’m not a crier. I keeptrying to convince myself it’s nothing, but the nagging feeling won’t go away.

I look over at Gremlin, who’s curled up and sleeping. I should do something to help her.

I put out extra food and make a little bed for her in the corner. She doesn’t seem interested, but at least it makes me feel useful. I settle into the chair closest to the fire, watching the flames.

At some point, I must fall asleep because I wake to a demanding cry growl. My heart skips a beat, and for a second, I think it’s me. But then I see Gremlin, meowing loudly, her body twisting and turning like she’s in pain.

“Oh no, oh no,” I say, scrambling out of bed. “Not now, Gremlin. Not when I’m the only one here.”

The cat looks at me, desperate, and I’m pretty sure I look the same way. I grab my phone, hoping for a miracle, but it’s still a useless metal brick. No service to call the guys, no internet to Google what to do with a cat in labor.

I am so far out of my element it’s not even funny. If this is what it feels like to be a mountain woman, I think I’ll take the chaos of the city, thank you. You hear that universe? I’m not cut out for this, I get it!

Gremlin cries again, and I drop the phone. “Okay, okay. I’m here,” I say, trying to sound calm. “We can do this.”

I remember the little nest I made for her. I carry her over, and she settles in, her breathing heavy. I stroke her back, whispering to her, but I’m not sure if it’s for her comfort or mine.

“Just hang in there,” I say. “You’re not the only one doing this for the first time.”

I watch, helpless and terrified. What if something goes wrong? What if she needs more than I can give?

But then I see a tiny paw, and I gasp. Gremlin knows what to do, even if I don’t. The first kitten comes, wet and wiggling, and I almost cry with relief.

“Look at that,” I whisper, my hands shaking. “You did it, Gremlin.”

She licks the kitten, and I watch in awe. It’s a tiny, perfect thing. I reach out, hesitating, then gently move it closer to her. She doesn’t seem to mind my help, which is a shock.

I sit back, my heart pounding. I’m doing okay. We’re doing okay.

Another contraction hits, and Gremlin tenses. I’m more prepared this time, and the second kitten comes faster. I catch my breath, laughing a little at how scared I was.

“You’re a natural,” I tell her. “Guess I’m not so bad at this either.”

Two more kittens follow, one after the other. I barely notice the time passing. I’m too caught up in the miracle happening in front of me.

I arrange them close to Gremlin, watching them nuzzle and squirm. My fingers brush against their fur, and I feel a spark deep down inside me.

I lean back, exhausted but exhilarated. The cabin is still quiet, but it’s a different kind of quiet. A peaceful one.

I look at the kittens, then at Gremlin, and I think about what this means. She’s a mom now. And me? I might be one soon, too.

There’s no denying that something is going on with me, something that feels a whole lot bigger than a passing illness. I hope I’m wrong. I’m not sure I’ll be a good mom. Not now and maybe not ever.

A baby. The thought is terrifying and exciting, all at once. I’ve spent so long pretending to be someone else, I’m not even sure I know how to be me, let alone a mom.

But watching Gremlin, I feel a little less afraid. She’s okay, even without instructions. Maybe I will be too?

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