Day two of me marrying the toilet was harder, because he got worried and suggested we go to the emergency room. Mom convinced him it was probably aforty-eight-hour bug, then secretly drove to town and picked me up some pregnancy-safe stomach remedies. Theydidn’t help.
On day three, when Dad was ready to drive me to the ER himself, Wyatt and I finally called a family meeting.
Sixty seconds ago, we told my father and Wyatt’s parents about the pregnancy. Now we’re sitting on our respective deck chairs, awaiting the explosion.
It doesn’t come.
Dad and Garrett look at each other for a moment. Then they nod and turn back to us.
“Okay,” Dad says.
“All right,” Garrett says.
I wrinkle my forehead. “What’s happening right now?”
“You’re pregnant,” Dad tells me.
“Yes, I know that! I’m asking what’s happeninghere.” I wave my hand between them. “You two are cool with this?”
They shrug, which heightens my suspicion. Wyatt told me about that midnight boat ride my father forced him on. What if they take him out on the boat again?
“Please don’t drown him,” I blurt out.
Everyone startles.
“Honey,” Mom starts.
“No,” I cut in. “That’s totally what’s happening right now. Why they’re so calm about it.” I plead my case to Wyatt’s parents. “You can’t let him kill your son.”
“I’m not killing anybody!” Dad protests, doubling over with laughter.
“No, she’s right,” Wyatt says uneasily. “You guys are too calm. I don’t trust this.”
Wyatt’s mom eyes him curiously. “You’re pretty calm yourself.”
“Yeah, because like we just told you, we’re waiting until the scanbefore we make any decisions.”
Hannah nods. “And we’ll support whatever you two decide.”
Relief flickers through me. I wasn’t worried about Hannah, though. She’s levelheaded like my mom. Our dads are the crazy ones. And yet neither of the crazies looks bothered.
“Dad,” I say, “you can’t possibly be happy about this.”
“Happy?” He mulls it over. “Well. I can’t say that my twenty-one-year-old daughter having a baby was in my five-year plan for you. But…” He shrugs. “Things happen.”
“Things happen?” I echo. “What’s going on here?”
A gasp sounds from the phone in the center of the deck table. It’s Gigi. She’s back in Dallas, but Wyatt didn’t feel right telling their parents and not including his twin. I don’t blame him. If I had a sibling, I’d include them too.
“Oh my God,” Gigi says. “I know what’s happening. Theywantthis.”
My gaze swings back to our dads.
“Youarehappy,” Gigi accuses. “Admit it.”
“Again, I don’t know ifhappyis the word I’d use,” Garrett says carefully. “But we sort of came to terms with it already.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Wyatt demands.
