“Don’t encourage him,” Hayden said.
“I’m not encouraging. I’m observing.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s not—”
“FOCUS,” I snapped. “Please. I need you all to focus.”
They looked at me.
“I’m having three babies,” I said quietly. “Three. And I’m terrified. And I know you all think this is hilarious—”
“We do,” Hayden confirmed.
“—but I need help. Real help. Not just jokes and betting pools.”
Silence.
Then Nathan leaned forward.
“Okay,” he said. “Real help. What do you need?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what I need. I don’t know how to prepare for this.”
“You need to stop trying to control everything,” Winnie whispered.
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“I can’t. Control is all I have. Control is how I function. Without control, I’m just—”
“Human?” Gabriel suggested.
I stared at him.
“You’re allowed to be scared,” he continued. “You’re allowed to not have all the answers. You’re allowed to need help.”
“I hate needing help.”
“We know,” Nathan said. “But you’re going to need it anyway. So you might as well accept it now.”
I looked around the table again. At my friends. My support system. My backup plan. “Okay,” I said finally. “Okay. I need help.”
“We know,” Fitz said, grinning.
“And I’m going to make a spreadsheet.”
“We know that too.”
“And contingency plans.”
“Obviously.”
“And—”
“Julien,” Quinton interrupted. “We get it. You’re going to Julien the hell out of this situation. But you’re also going to let us help. Right?”
