When we separate, my arms still wrapped around his neck, I say, "I'm sorry I wasn't your first kiss."
"Don’t be. It wouldn't have been very memorable."
"Maybe you'll be mylastfirst kiss?"
"You better not mess this up then."
Because bugging him is what I do best, my fingers pinch a wad of muscle, and I twist.
"I'm kidding," he laughs. "You probably will mess this up. But so will I. Let's promise we'll be patient as we figure this out together. Deal?"
My forehead meets his, and my words are delicate against his lips.
"Deal."
Whenwe'reallgatheredaround the living room, which now has brand-new couches that are as ugly as they are comfortable, Theo nudges me to speak first.
"We're pregnant!"
I'm waiting for my dad to march out of the house and into a time machine to go back and prevent this from happening. Maybe even burst into tears because he's not ready to be a grandfather yet.
But as I watch my dad and Molly's faces change into Cheshire cat creepy smiles, I’m alarmed.
"We don't mean to steal your thunder," my dad begins, looking at Molly as she emphatically nods her head in approval. "But Molly is pregnant, too."
My eyes dart straight to her stomach. How did I not notice the baby bump when we first came in? She has to be five months along. How has she been hiding that from us? But within an instant, her tummy grows to double the size.
And then it keeps inflating. She's having twins, no triplets—wait! Sextuplets? She's giving birth to a football team of linebackers! Her stomach is obscenely large and might burst like a balloon as it expands the width of the room.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" I howl as I jolt awake from a horrible nightmare.
Theo comes to my side and rests his hand on my chest.
"Amelia? Are you okay?" he asks in a half-drowsy state.
"Yes, bad dream."
"Which one? Where you and my mom are pregnant or when we find out we're twins separated at birth?"
"The pregnancy one. This time your mom's stomach blew up like Violet when she turned into a blueberry inWilly Wonka and the Chocolate Factory."
Theo turns on the lamp, suppressing a laugh. By the time our bedroom apartment is illuminated, he has a straight face to show his support.
"My mom isn't pregnant. You're not pregnant. And we are not biological siblings," he tells me for, quite possibly, the tenth time this month.
"Ugh, I'm sorry. Why does this keep happening?"
"It's okay. These nightmares will end soon."
"I don't know which one is worse."
"I can always get you pregnant right now if you think it would help." His hand reaches under my shirt and he rubs his palm along my lower stomach.
"It's 3:00 a.m., are you crazy?"
"Crazy for you." He leaves a delicate kiss on my lips.
"Go back to sleep."
