“Dear Jesus,” Corey says. “Thank you for this whole thing. This is magical. Like you wouldn’t even believe.”
“We’re going to be grandparents?” Alice asks. “Even more?”
“Can I have it?” Bear says hopefully.
“No, Bear, you can’t have my unborn child,” Anna says dryly.
“You can have the next one,” Creed says. “I mean, by the third, they just have to slide right out of there, right? How hard could it be?”
Every male in the room grimaces. It’s not a pleasant image.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not what happens,” Alice says, patting her son’s hand. “You took at least fourteen hours.”
“That’s because of my big—”
“Head,” his dad finishes. “You got stuck at the head because it was the size of a watermelon.”
“I am not a baby factory,” Anna says. “Just so we’re clear.”
“Do you guys have a donor yet?” Creed asks Otter.
Otter, looking resigned, shakes his head.
“Why couldn’t you, then?” he asks Anna. “Think about it! We’d be keeping it in the family! You’ll have carried mine and my brother’s babies! And your ex-boyfriend’s, because they can mix them all in now!” He pauses. His eyes narrow. “Wait. That doesn’t sound right. At all. And I don’t know how I feel about that.” He turns and glares at Bear and Otter. “I don’t think I want either of you getting my wife pregnant. Stay away from her baby factory.”
“You’re having two babies?” JJ asks. “That better not mess with my two Christmases when you and Dad get divorced.”
“Which seems more and more likely with each passing second,” Anna says. “And no, I’m not having two babies. I’m having one.”
“We weren
’t going to ask you,” Otter says helplessly. “Trust me. That conversation would have been… well. I guess it would have been no stranger than what is happening right now.”
“You want to be a dad?” I ask Bear.
He looks down at his hands. Everyone is mercifully quiet while he thinks of the right words. “I think so,” he says finally. “I mean, I did okay with you, right? You didn’t turn out weird.”
“I’m very weird. And so are you.”
He cracks a smile. “You know what I mean. Otter’s wanted a kid forever, even if he hasn’t said it out loud.” He takes Otter’s hand in his and looks up at me. “I didn’t think I’d ever get there, but here I am. Thirty-two years old and going baby-crazy.”
“You did okay with me,” I say. “Your kid won’t be too messed up.”
“Vote of confidence,” Otter says. “Score.”
“Why surrogate?” Alice asks. “Why not adoption?
“Because Bear read an article about Russian children being taken away from families,” Otter explains. “And it absolutely convinced him that we would get a Russian kid.”
“I read articles now,” Bear says. “I’m extremely well-informed.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say. “You read about one article a year.”
“Hey,” Otter says. “At least he’s trying. I was relieved just to find out he could read.”
“Russia is scary,” Bear announces, as if we all didn’t know.
“So no surrogate yet?” Alice asks.