Last night, I cooked chicken parmesan for Poet and Bianca Bella. The three of us ate outside on the porch while the dogs stared at us hoping to get a bite. Despite Poet claiming he had fun at the casino, he remained edgy all fucking night. I wasn’t much better. I’m so accustomed to having private space in the house, but now Poet is around me every moment. It’s one thing to have a dog watch me pee but having a man stand nearby is a step too far.

Poet is both needy and distant, but we still make the best of the evening. A few amazing fucks, a viewing of Black Hawk Down in the home theater, and crashing early keep us from ripping each other’s hair out. Mostly, we’re both excited—and nervous—about the doctor visit in the morning.

Around eleven, Chipper meets us at the OB’s office on White Horse’s south end. We sit silently in the waiting room, each playing with our phones. When my name is called, we walk in a line through the door and down a hallway covered in baby pictures. Finally, we reach the exam room where the medical assistant gets my vitals.

Once we’re alone waiting for the doctor, I mutter, “I hope this doesn’t take long.” Forever struggling with my too tight sweatpants, I add, “I’ll need to pee again soon.”

“On the way home, I’ll pick you up a box of those adult diapers,” Chipper says and pulls at my hair. “I might get me a pair too since I seem to be suffering from a sympathetic pregnancy. Earlier today, even my fucking jugs were sensitive.”

Grinning at his teasing, I slap at his hand. “You are very lucky I’m behaving today, or I’d shove your fat head under that little sink and drown you.”

“Hey, shit weasel, shouldn’t you pay attention to your man before he feels neglected?”

I turn my gaze to Poet who’s been so quiet that I’d nearly forgotten he was in the room. “Are you nervous?”

“No. Are you?”

“No, but I will need to pee soon.”

“Go pee now,” Chipper mutters.

“It’s not time. My pee needs to travel south a bit more.”

“Thanks for the visual.”

I share a smile with Chipper until we hear a knock on the door followed by the doctor entering. The middle-aged man with dark hair wears a white doctor’s coat over a pale blue shirt. Based on the blue and pink baby bottles on his black tie, I suspect the guy’s a riot at parties.

“Cricket, I’m Doctor James. How are you feeling today?”

“Fine. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ll need to pee soon so can we hurry this along?”

Doctor James gives me a grumpy frown before suddenly noticing the two tall men standing in separate corners of the room.

“Okay, why don’t you get on the exam table and have you lie back,” the doctor says, and I do as he instructs. “Don’t be nervous. These are all normal tests.”

“Uh-huh,” I mutter and glance at Chipper holding up his phone to stream the ultrasound for Candy and Hayes. “Are you comfortable?”

Chipper grins at my question since his ass is pressed up against the corner of the counter.

“So, who do we have here?” the doctor asks me while turning on the machine.

“I’m Cricket. We already did that part.”

“No, I mean, them.”

“This is my man,” I say, gesturing to Poet. “And that’s my brother. You don’t need to know more than that.”

“Is it possible for your man to record while your brother steps outside?”

“No, because I want my man to pay attention to the screen rather than pay attention to the recording.”

“Well, maybe you don’t need to record,” Doctor James suggests. “You’ll receive a video of the ultrasound before you leave.”

“I don’t know,” I say, wanting to kick the doctor in the face, but sensing that’d be a really stupid fucking move.

“Here’s the thing,” Chipper says to the doctor, “our dad, Angus Hayes, wants to watch the event unfold. If he can’t watch a stream of Cricket’s ultrasound, he’ll need to come here to watch it live. If you’re cool with that, I can give him a call.”

“No, that’s okay. Let’s get started,” the doctor says immediately.

“Are you sure?” I push because my bitchy bladder is making me bitchy. “Hayes is only like five minutes away. He and our mom can be here super-fast.”

“No, no, let’s go ahead and check your baby, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, glancing at Chipper who struggles not to laugh. We pull the Hayes move all the fucking time.

Poet’s hand takes mine as Doctor James squirts goop on my gut before pressing the ultrasound wand to my little bump. I expect these steps since the internet has information on everything.

I remember the black-and-white ultrasound pictures Candy showed me years ago where Chipper and I looked like aliens. Back then, I didn’t understand how she could fall in love with those creepy things.

My ultrasound is the 3D sort, and I assume my baby won’t look as weird. Nope, I assumed wrong. The image is still creepy as hell.

“Eww,” Chipper whispers. “Your baby is a mutant.”

Snickering, I study the black cave-looking area where a little creature squirms. Then the doctor moves the wand slightly and makes a “hmmm” noise.

“Do twins run in your family?” he asks.

“Uh, duh,” I say, gesturing between Chipper and me.

“I’m counting two babies so far.”

“So far?” Poet balks.

“There won’t be more,” Chipper announces. “You can’t handle more, and God always coddles Cricket.”

I open my mouth to insult him back. Then I hear the babies’ heartbeat, and the reality of the situation hits me hard. That’s when I nearly break Poet’s hand.

“Easy now,” he says, wrestling his hand free.

“There are two?” I ask the doctor. “I mean, for sure? I don’t want to freak out if you’re not sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure. See right there?” he says pointing to Baby A and Baby B as he labels them on the screen. “I can’t be certain about the genders.”

“Is one of them a boy?” Chipper asks. “I’d like a nephew, so tell me one of them has a bologna pony.”

The doctor silently moves the wand around my stomach, and I see him taking measurements. The nurse writes down information, and no one acknowledges my brother’s idiot comment.

“Would you like to know the genders?” Doctor James asks me.

I look at Poet who—God bless him—doesn’t appear the least bit horrified by learning the stranger he knocked up three months ago is carrying twins.

“Are you okay with knowing?” I ask him and reach for his hand again.

“Sure. Yeah, of course. In fact, my family will drive me fricking bonkers if I don’t find out.”

“Okay, let’s pull the trigger.”

“Baby A,” Doctor James says and points to the screen where the mutant bobs in its dark spot, “is a boy. That one, I’m certain about. Baby B is probably a girl. At twelve weeks, innies are more difficult to see than outies, but I do not see an outie for Baby B. Of course, the baby might be just facing a direction that’ll hide its outie. When we do another ultrasound in a few months, I should have a more definite answer about Baby B.”

“Do they look okay?” I ask, wanting so much to fall in love with the mutant blobs.

“They look perfect. How are you feeling?”

“Tired, weepy, and I pee more but otherwise fine.”

“How are you eating?”

“Like a pig.”

The doctor then gives me a short speech about how “eating for two” is a myth. I ignore his words—knowing the info will be more interesting when I read it online—and instead think of the babies inside me.

Two babies.

Twice the crying.

Twice the pooping.

Twice the eating.

Twice the pooping again.

Twice another round of crying.

Wait, babies sleep too, so there’s that, but will they sleep at the same time?

My brain races with thoughts of Candy raising Chipper and me alone. Our grandparents helped financially, but the day-to-day hands-on work was all her for the first nine years of our lives.

Right here, right now, surrounded by two important men in my life, while two tiny people grow inside me, I’ve never felt so alone or so in desperate need of my mommy.