Page 113 of Babies for the Christmas Grump
“Sunny,” I press. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
She sighs heavily. And then, finally, she turns to face me, her eyes wide with something I can’t quite read.
“I… I don’t know how to say this.”
I wait, not pushing, but my pulse is already picking up. Something’s coming. I can feel it in my gut.
She swallows hard, glancing away for a second, then back at me. “Ryder, I’m pregnant.”
The words land like a punch, knocking the breath out of me. I blink, stunned.
Pregnant.
The room spins for a second, everything else fading as what she just said sinks in.
“Pregnant?” I repeat, as if trying to convince myself I heard her correctly.
My mind scrambles, trying to make sense of it. I don’t even know how to respond.
She nods slowly, her gaze dropping to her hands, twisting the blanket nervously.
“Twins,” she adds in a whisper, like she’s afraid to say it out loud. “I’m having twins.”
Twins.
The word rings in my ears, but it doesn’t make any sense. I just stare at her, my mind stuttering over the idea of it. I want to say something, anything, but the words won’t come.
The world is suddenly too loud, too bright, and I can’t find my place in it. I can’t wrap my head around it.
Twins.
“Are you sure?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
It sounds stupid, even to me. Of course, she’s sure. She wouldn’t say it if she weren’t. But I need something to ground me, something to hold on to.
She nods again, her eyes meeting mine. “I’m sure.”
I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to hold her, to tell her everything’s going to be fine, but I’m frozen. Stunned.
I wasn’t ready for this. Hell, I don’t think anyone could be.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I want to ask if she’s okay. I want to tell her I’m here, that we’ll figure it out together.
But my mind is a mess, and the words are stuck in my throat.
It’s a fucking avalanche of information, and I don’t know how to process it. I mean, how do you go from zero to double the chaos, double the responsibility?
How do you even begin to wrap your mind around the fact that you’re going to be a father… twice? At once?
I reach for her hand, my fingers trembling as I squeeze it. It’s the only thing that can tether me to this moment, to her. I’m here. I’m present.
But my brain’s still catching up to what she’s just dropped on me.
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even move, just keeps staring at me with those wide, vulnerable eyes. But I can see it.
She’s waiting for me to react. She’s waiting for me to process this, to be the one who knows what to do, what to say.
I want to tell her that everything’s going to be okay. That we will be okay. But I can’t. I can’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep.
