I peek inside. Two impossibly soft blankets, monogrammed with "Baby A" and "Baby B."
"You don't know their names yet," Joselyn explains. "So we went with placeholders."
"These are beautiful." My voice cracks and I blink hard against sudden tears.
"Don't cry," Brennen says, panicking. "We can exchange them if you don't like them?—"
"I love them." I wipe my eyes quickly. "They're perfect."
Miles wraps an arm around me. "Hormones."
"I'm aware."
Sophie hands me tissues. "How are you feeling? Besides emotional?"
"Huge. Tired. Like I'm carrying bowling balls."
"You look great," Candace says.
"I look like I swallowed a beach ball."
Joselyn laughs. "A very cute beach ball."
"I'm embracing it now. What choice do I have?"
Candace smiles. "About time."
Ryan's back on his phone, scrolling intensely. "It says here that twins need specialized cribs. Something about safety standards?—"
"We have two cribs," Miles says. "Already assembled."
"But are they twin-certified?"
"That's not a thing."
"Are you sure? Because this website?—"
Miles gently takes Ryan's phone. "Step away from the parenting blogs."
"But I need to research?—"
"You need to relax." Miles hands the phone to Candace. "Your wife will hold this hostage until you calm down."
Brennen's still sketching label designs. "What about 'Double Trouble Reserve'? Too casual?"
"Way too casual," Sophie says.
"'Twin Oaks'? Because, you know, oak barrels?—"
"Brennen." I put my hand on his notepad. "They're babies. Not wine vintages."
"Wine is important!"
"So are my children!"
"I'm trying to honor them with wine!"
Miles is laughing now. Full-on laughing at my brothers' collective twin-induced panic.
