“Joe.” I slid my arms around his neck as he sat on the couch. Leaning over him, I placed my mouth next to his ear and whispered, “What if I’m pregnant.”

He froze and his heart started to pound frantically under my palms. “How?”

“See, when we have sex, your sperm swims up my—”

He tipped his head back and stared up at me. “Woman, I thought you were on the pill.”

“I stopped taking it weeks ago.”

“Oh, God. Another baby?”

“I’m hoping for another girl,” I said, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

I wasn’t pregnant. My little talk didn’t get him moving on the vasectomy, so I figured radical action needed to be taken.

“I don’t think I can take another girl, and the babies are still bottle-feeding.”

“Don’t worry, baby. They’ll be walking by the time our next bundle of joy is born.”

He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips as his face drained of color. “I don’t know if I can handle this.”

“Then why didn’t you get snipped?”

He grimaced when his hand fell away. “You know I hate that word.”

I grinned, biting the inside of my mouth to stop myself from laughing. My poor husband looked like his worst nightmare just came true. “Sounds better than twins, doesn’t it? Now do you wish you had a vasectomy?”

He sighed and nodded slowly. “I do.” He swallowed, closing his eyes.

“Good, because I’m not pregnant.”

His eyes cut to mine, wide and pissed off. “You’re not?”

“Nope.” I shook my head and grinned. “Go get it done before you knock me up again.”

“Jesus.” He gripped his chest and exhaled. “You scared the shit out of me, babe. Not cool.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled.

Victory was mine.

“As long as you’re sure?”

“I’ve thought a lot about it, Joe.”

“Okay. Are the girls ready to go?” He glanced down at his watch.

“Yeah. Want to help me get them and head over?”

It was Sunday—the first one since we’d been on lockdown with the threat against the entire family.

We climbed the stairs hand in hand, and I couldn’t help but think how lucky I truly was. My life was blessed. Somehow, with all the insanity we’d been through, everyone had come out alive. So far. Thinking back on it all, and there was quite a bit, I couldn’t believe that we’d survived, that our love had endured, and we’d grown stronger as a couple.

When we walked into the babies’ room, Gigi stood between the cribs talking to the girls. We watched at the doorway, peeking through the crack and listening.

“You two gotta be good. Daddy hasn’t spanked me, but he does Mommy, and I don’t want him to do it to you.”

Joe laughed softly, his body shaking against my back. I peered over my shoulder and narrowed my eyes. “We have to talk to her about this,” I whispered.

He nodded. “It’s kind of cute, though.”

“No. It really isn’t anymore. She keeps telling everyone how you spank me, Joe.”

“Okay, okay. We have time for a quick talk before we head over.” Joe reached over me and pushed open the bedroom door. “Hey, baby girl. Whatcha doing?”

Gigi turned to face us wearing her favorite pink dress that had lace frills around the hemline. She twisted her finger in her hair, twirling it around her knuckle. “Just talking to my sissies.”

“What did you tell them?” he asked, walking up to her before scooping her into his arms.

“I told them they have to be good, Daddy.” She peered up at him with the sweetest look—the one that usually got her out of trouble. I swear she learned how to bat her eyelashes and get her way from her aunt Izzy.

Joe sat on his knees, cradling Gigi in his arms. “You know I don’t spank Mommy because she’s bad, right?”

Her eyes widened and her tiny mouth fell open. “You don’t?” she whispered.

Joe shook his head and smiled sweetly. “No, baby. It’s not that type of spanking.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “There’s more than one kind?”

“There is.”

I glanced toward the ceiling and closed my eyes. There were embarrassing things, and then there were embarrassing things. Discussing your sex life with your kid was the worst kind of mortification. She’d probably be scarred for life. Someday, when she was older, she’d have a lot of questions that I still won’t want to answer.

“But Billy at school says his dad spanks him when he’s bad. So why do you spank Mommy?”

“It’s like a kiss,” Joe told her, pushing the tiny wisps of hair off her forehead.

“A spanking is like a kiss?” She stared at him and gawked.

Oh, God.

“It’s like a love tap. I just touch her butt softly. It’s not really a spanking.”

She placed her tiny hands on his cheeks and looked into his eyes. “So when you love someone, you touch their butt?”

“Only if you’re married.”

“I’m so confused,” she mumbled.

“Me too, Gigi,” I told her and laughed.

“No boy should ever spank you or touch your butt. Understand?” Joe’s lips were mushed together by her hands and the words sounded funny.

“Unless I’m married.”

“Right, but then, only if you want them to.”

“Daddy?” Gigi scooted closer to him, still gripping his face.

“Yeah, baby girl?”

“I don’t ever want to get married. I want to live with you and Mommy forever, and I don’t ever want to get spanked.”

“Your lips to God’s ears,” I whispered and sighed.

I hated her growing up. She was still little, but every day I could see her changing and growing, becoming her own tiny person. Imagining the day she’d leave home to go to college broke my heart.

“You never have to leave, Gigi. Daddy just wants you to be happy.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. Her tiny lips found his and she laid a wet one right on him.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, baby girl. Want to go to Grandma’s?”

“Yes!” she screeched and bounced in his lap. “Does that mean Papa spanks Nona?”

“You’d have to ask them, kid.”

That will make for an interesting dinner conversation.