“Okay, fine. I’m organizing. Because someone has to organize. Because we’re having THREE BABIES and that requires SIGNIFICANT organization.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Do you really? Because three babies mean three times the chaos, and I’m barely handling the current level of chaos and—”
She kissed me. Just leaned up from the table and kissed me, cutting off my spiral mid-sentence.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said when she pulled back. “Together.”
“Together,” I repeated.
“With help.”
“I already called Nathan.”
“Good.”
“I’m meeting with everyone after this.”
“Even better.”
“I’m going to make a plan.”
“I know you are.”
“A detailed plan. With contingencies.”
“Obviously.”
“And backup contingencies.”
“Naturally.”
“And—”
“Julien?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
I looked at her—my beautiful wife, my chaos, the woman who turned my entire life upside down and somehow made it better—and felt something settle in my chest.
Three babies. We’re having three babies.
The universe is absolutely out to get me.
But maybe, just maybe, I would survive it.
With help.
And planning.
And possibly several more spreadsheets.
“I love you too,” I said.
“Even though the universe is testing you?”
