Instead, I save the ultrasound photo as my phone background, so I’ll be reminded each time I pull it out. Two tiny beans that will become two tiny humans who will need me to be better than I've ever been.
Even if Sloane never sees me as anything more than a co-parent, I need to be that man anyway.
For those two tiny heartbeats that are counting on me to get this right.
CHAPTER 18
SLOANE
How shouldI dress to meet the parents of my casual hookup turned twin baby-daddy? A nun’s habit feels about right for my mood, but obviously that’s too blasphemous. I’m no virginal do-gooder.
After cycling through every item in my closet, I land on a simple dress that doesn’t brush against my tender nipples or make me look pregnant. Which I am. I have to keep reminding myself. I look perfectly respectable to meet Tucker’s parents. My co-parent’s parents.
There's really no reason I should care what Ty Stag and Juniper Jones think of me.
Except they're going to be my babies' grandparents. That word hits a nerve. What would my own grandmother say about this whole situation? She’d probably tell me to hush up and accept the free babysitting Tucker referenced.
And Tucker keeps talking about family support, networks, and all these things I've never experienced. And part of me—a big part—desperately wants what he's describing to be real.
"You look great," Mel says from her doorway, watching me fuss with my hair in the mirror. “But where are you going?”
“Oh.” I wave a hand at her. “Just a school thing.” Is it totally a lie? The pregnancy is certainly going to impact spring semester, after all.
Mel is clearly not buying it, because she squints at me androlls back and forth a few times in the hall. “We haven’t had much time to talk lately. I see that this is me being a shitty friend. What time are you getting home?”
I shrug. “I probably won’t be late.” I have been avoiding this conversation big time, but I know it’s the right thing to do—to come clean to Mel, lean in to her advice. Let her boss me around a little. I force my face into an exaggerated smile that makes her giggle. “You going out to study tonight or will you be here later?”
Mel has been such a good friend through all of this—inviting me to move in with her, supporting me through the divorce, celebrating my return to school. And I've been keeping this massive secret from her for weeks.
My phone buzzes. Tucker.
I'm downstairs whenever you're ready. No rush.
Mel hums. “I’ll make sure I’m home. Should I get ice cream? Rent a Jason Momoa movie?”
“Oh, great idea. Yes, please.” I take a deep breath and check my reflection one more time. The woman staring back at me looks terrified.
“On it,” Mel says. "And text me if you need an escape route from whatever this is. I'll fake an emergency."
"Thanks." I hug her quickly, then grab my purse and head downstairs before I can talk myself out of going.
Tucker is leaning against his car—not the McLaren, I notice, but a sensible black SUV. He's dressed in dark jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair neatly styled. He looks nervous, which somehow makes me feel slightly better.
"Hey," he says, straightening when he sees me. "You look beautiful."
"Thanks." I smooth down my dress self-consciously. "You look nice too."
"Thanks. I, uh—" He opens the passenger door for me. "I really appreciate you doing this. I know it's probably weird."
"It's fine." I slide into the car, immediately hit by how clean it is. No fast food wrappers, no gym clothes in the back seat. Justthe faint scent of leather and whatever cologne he wears. “Whose car is this?”
Tucker gets in the driver's side and turns toward me with a smile that leaves me breathless. Has he always been this attractive? “It’s mine now, baby.” He pats the steering wheel. “It’s actually my cousin Wyatt’s, but he’s in the UK for a few more years and said I can use it if I take over the insurance.”
We pull away from my building as he rambles on a bit about the extended family system of bartering and favors. Then he seems to run out of things to say. The silence stretches between us, not quite comfortable but not hostile either.
“Do your parents know about the twins or this is a big reveal type dinner?” I ask finally.
"My dad knows. He's terrible at keeping secrets, but he promised he’d let us tell Mom.” Tucker glances at me. “Is that okay? If we tell them in person?”
