The ultrasound appointment fell on an ordinary Tuesday morning, squeezed between one of Nathaniel's board calls and my own follow-up meeting with Diane's integration team, the kind of small, mundane scheduling collision that had become the strange new normal of our life together.
"Congratulations," the technician said, moving the wand slowly across my stomach, her eyes fixed on the monitor with a small, private smile. "You're having twins."
The word landed somewhere between shock and disbelief, and I watched Nathaniel's face cycle through the same stunned progression mine must have shown weeks earlier, when I'd first held that positive test with shaking hands.
"Twins," he repeated, staring at the screen where two small, flickering heartbeats pulsed steadily side by side. "We're having t
