Chapter 13
Emma
Twenty-two weeks… and counting
Brennen is sketching wine label designs that say "Murphy Twins 2026" while Ryan's googling "what to buy for twin nieces/nephews" with frightening intensity.
We're at Celtic Knot for what was supposed to be a casual Saturday tasting, but my brothers have collectively lost their minds since we told them about the twins two weeks ago. I was pretty clever in hiding my bump with flowy shirts and dresses.
"What about this?" Brennen holds up his notepad, showing elaborate label designs featuring two intertwined grapevines. "Murphy Twins Reserve. We'll make a special vintage the year they're born. Something elegant. Timeless."
"You can't give wine to babies," I point out.
"It's not for them now. It's for their twenty-first birthday." He's already sketching again. "We'll age it perfectly. By the time they're old enough to drink, it'll be?—"
"Illegal to give to them because you'll have already opened and sampled it," Miles finishes.
Brennen looks offended. "I have self-control."
"You opened the 2015 reserve three years early because you were 'curious,'" Sophie says, appearing from the back with Alex.
"That was different."
"How?"
"That was for quality control."
Ryan looks up from his phone, eyes slightly manic. "Did you know twins develop their own language? They call it cryptophasia. Should we be worried about that?"
"They're not even born yet," I say.
"But we should prepare. What if they start communicating in ways we don't understand? Should I learn sign language? Just in case?"
Miles leans over to me. "Your brother's spiraling."
"Both of them are spiraling."
"What about middle names?" Brennen asks suddenly. "Have you thought about middle names? Because I have suggestions?—"
"We haven't even decided on first names," I interrupt.
"You should start a list. I'll help." He flips to a new page. "For the boy: Brennen Junior"
"Absolutely not."
"Ryan Junior?"
Ryan shakes his head. "No juniors. They need their own identities."
"Says the man who just bought matching onesies that say 'Future CEO,'" Candace points out, walking in with Joselyn.
Ryan looks sheepish. "They were on sale."
"They were sixty dollars each," Candace says.
"A bargain."
Joselyn sets down a bag from some expensive baby boutique. "We brought gifts. Don't judge."
