Chapter 27
Grant
"You're making the entire row of chairs vibrate," Emma says without looking up from her magazine.
I immediately stop my leg. "Sorry. Just excited."
She places her hand on my knee and gives me a knowing smile. "I can tell."
This morning had started like any other—Emma waking up slowly beside me, stretching in that languid way that still makes my heart skip a beat. But then she'd turned to me, her expression suddenly serious.
"I want to know," she'd said. "Today at the appointment. I want to find out the genders."
I nearly choked on the water I just took a sip of. Emma has been adamantly against finding out, insisting that she wants to be surprised at the birth. I've respected her decision, though I've been dying to know if we're having boys, girls, or one of each.
"Are you sure?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager. I didn’t want to jinx it.
"I'm sure," she'd said, laughing at my poorly concealed excitement. "I woke up and just... knew I didn't want to wait anymore."
Now we're moments away from finding out, and I can barely sit still.
"Grant and Emma?" A nurse appears in the doorway with a clipboard.
I stand up, taking Emma's hand as we follow the nurse down the hallway. Emma's palm is slightly damp in mine, and I give it a reassuring squeeze.
"How are you feeling today, Emma?" the nurse asks as she leads us into an exam room.
"Good," Emma says. "Though my back aches more. Is that normal?"
"Completely normal," the nurse assures her, gesturing for Emma to sit on the examination table.
"Your center of gravity is shifting. That'll continue as the babies grow."
The nurse takes Emma's blood pressure, weight, and asks several routine questions about movement and symptoms before making notes in her chart. "Dr. Martelle will be right in," she says with a smile before leaving us alone.
I move beside Emma, taking her hand again. "You nervous?"
"A little," she admits. "But mostly excited. I think knowing will settle me more about what’s to come."
"Me too," I say, placing my palm on her belly. As if on cue, one of the twins gives a solid kick against my hand. "See? He or she agrees."
Emma laughs, covering my hand with hers. "They've been so active today. Some days I feel like they’re just going to kick right on through."
There's a soft knock on the door, and Dr. Martelle enters with a warm smile.
"Emma, Grant, so nice to see you again. My nurse tells me you’re ready to find out the genders.
I figured you would change your mind eventually," Dr. Martelle says with a knowing smile. "Most parents do, especially with twins. Being pregnant with twins is, honestly, enough of a surprise."
Emma smiles at her and squeezes my hand tightly. "I woke up this morning and suddenly couldn't stand not knowing anymore."
"That's perfectly normal," Dr. Martelle assures her as she prepares the ultrasound machine. "Let's get you set up and take a look at these babies of yours."
Emma leans back on the examination table, lifting her dress to expose her belly. I can't take my eyes off her—the way she cradles her bump, the glow in her cheeks, the nervous anticipation in her eyes. My heart feels like it might burst with love for her and our children.
Dr. Martelle squirts the gel onto Emma's stomach, and Emma flinches slightly at the coolness. "Sorry about that," the doctor says.
I move closer, holding Emma's hand as Dr. Martelle positions the transducer on her belly. The screen flickers to life, and suddenly there they are—our babies, so much more defined than the last time we saw them. I can make out heads, bodies, tiny hands and feet.
"There's Baby A," Dr. Martelle says, pointing to the screen. "Looking very healthy. Good size, strong heartbeat." She moves the wand slightly. "And here's Baby B. Also looking excellent."
Emma's grip on my hand tightens.
"Let's take a closer look at Baby A," Dr. Martelle says, adjusting the wand slightly on Emma's belly. She studies the screen for a moment, then smiles. "Baby A is... a girl."
Emma gasps, her fingers tightening around mine. "A girl," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.
I'm frozen, staring at the screen where our daughter—our daughter—is moving, her tiny hand seeming to wave at us.
"And now for Baby B," Dr. Martelle continues, shifting the wand again. She pauses, making sure she has a clear view. "And Baby B is... a boy."
"One of each," I manage to say, my voice cracking. "We're having a son and a daughter."
Emma turns to look at me, tears streaming down her face. "A girl and a boy," she repeats. Her smile is so radiant it nearly takes my breath away.
I lean down and kiss her, tasting the salt of her tears—or maybe they're mine. I can't tell anymore. All I know is that this moment feels perfect in a way I never thought possible.
"They both look very healthy," Dr. Martelle says, continuing her examination. "Good size for 24 weeks with twins. Baby girl is measuring slightly larger, which is common in boy-girl pairs."
I can't stop staring at the screen, at these two tiny humans who are half me and half Emma, in total disbelief that in sixteen more weeks they’ll be here. Maybe even less, since twins don’t normally stay in the full forty weeks.
Dr. Martelle takes a few more measurements, pointing out various features on the ultrasound.
"The girl has your nose, Emma," she says with a smile. "And the boy seems to have your husband's strong jawline."
My heart swells at her words. Husband. We're not married of course, but hearing it feels right. I watch Emma's face as she stares at the screen, completely mesmerized by our children.
After a few more minutes, Dr. Martelle prints several photos for us and helps Emma clean the gel off her stomach.
"Thank you so much," I say, shaking Dr. Martelle's hand as Emma adjusts her dress.
"Yes, thank you," Emma echoes, her voice still thick with emotion. "I’m so glad I gave in and decided to find out."
We gather our things and make our way out of the office, Emma tucking the ultrasound photos away in her purse like precious treasures. The reality of what we just learned hits me with each step—a son and a daughter. The perfect pair.
When we step outside, my driver Thomas is waiting by the curb with the car door open.
"Where to, Mr. Cross?" he asks.
"Take us to Restoration Hardware, please."
Emma looks up at me, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Restoration Hardware? Do you need to buy some furniture?"
"Yes, actually," I reply, helping her into the back seat.
"I figured we could start by looking at a new mattress," I tell her once we're settled in the car.
"Something that might help with your back pain for these next sixteen weeks."
Emma gives me a puzzled look. "That's sweet, but I think I can manage with the mattress we have."
"We should look at a few other things too," I add, my mouth suddenly dry. My heart is pounding so hard I wonder if she can hear it. This wasn't how I planned to do this, but something about knowing we're having a son and a daughter makes it impossible to wait another moment.
"Grant, what's going on? We don't need furniture right now." She studies my face, her brow furrowed.
I take her hand in mine, running my thumb across her knuckles. "Emma, would you like to move in with me? Officially?"
Her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." I squeeze her hand, finding confidence in the certainty I feel. "I want us to live together. I want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep with you every night. I want us to make a home together before the twins come."
Emma's expression softens, but I can see hesitation in her eyes. "I've been practically living with you for weeks now except for the week we were apart," she says carefully. "But making it official is..."
"Scary?" I offer when she doesn't finish.
She nods. "But also exciting. We hadn’t really talked too much about what we were going to do once the babies are here but living together would obviously make everything easier.”
Relief floods through me as I watch her expression shift from hesitation to excitement. I'm so relieved she's good with the idea. I want to make my place more of a home for her, somewhere she feels comfortable, hence the shopping trip.
"I was thinking we could pick out some things together," I tell her, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. "Maybe turn one of the guest rooms into a proper office for you. And obviously we need to start thinking about the nursery."
Emma's eyes light up. "Yes, we'll need to think about a color scheme that works for both of the babies."
"Whatever you want," I say, squeezing her hand. "I want you to make the penthouse yours too. Change anything that doesn't feel right."
She laughs. "Even that ridiculous modern art piece in your entryway that looks like someone spilled paint?"
"Especially that. I've always hated it, but my interior designer insisted that I buy it."
We're both laughing now, and it feels so good—this lightness between us.
"So," I say, "Restoration Hardware first, then maybe we can look at some baby stores? Start getting ideas for cribs and changing tables?"
Emma nods, her smile so bright it makes my chest ache. "Yes. Though maybe we should eat lunch first? The twins are demanding food."
"There’s actually an incredible restaurant at the top of Restoration Hardware. Let’s start there and take it floor by floor to see what we like.”
After an incredible lunch, we spend the afternoon going floor by floor through the massive Restoration Hardware store.
Emma's enthusiasm is infectious as she points out pieces she loves, her eyes lighting up at each new discovery.
By the time we finish our shopping spree, I've arranged for delivery of more furniture than I initially planned, but seeing her excitement makes it all worthwhile.