the screen. “Kat’s mom arrived at the house to watch Gracie. Kat’s on her way here with Sarah’s mom.”
I don’t reply. I don’t give a shit about anyone or anything except Sarah.
Josh pulls on my arm. “Come on, Jonas. Let’s go see your babies.”
“Has anyone told you the genders yet?” the nurse asks.
“No,” Josh answers.
The nurse smiles at me, but her eyes are heavy with sympathy. “Girls,” she says. “You have two baby girls, Mr. Faraday. Just about four pounds each.”
Chapter 12
Jonas
My babies—my daughters—are each nestled inside Plexiglas incubators, their small bodies attached to monitors. Ventilators protrude from their mouths.
“I didn’t know a human could be this small,” Josh says.
I can’t process what I’m seeing right now.
“I think Gracie was, like, eight pounds?” Josh says. “Gracie looked like Godzilla compared to these two.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. My brain can’t compute the meaning of the little pink creatures in front of me.
“Gracie would have gobbled one of your babies for a mid-afternoon snack,” Josh continues.
I’m too mesmerized by their little fingers and toes to respond.
“Grassy eat baby!” Josh says, mimicking Gracie’s voice. “Man, they don’t even look real,” Josh continues. “They look like little animatronic puppets.”
He’s right. They do.
“Excuse me,” Josh says to the nearby NICU nurse. “Where’s the guy who’s working the remote control on these puppets?”
“He’s behind that curtain over there,” the nurse says, motioning. She beams a smile at him, the way all women do.
“Yep. I knew it,” Josh says. “Well, tell him he’s doing a bang-up job—these puppets seem really lifelike.”
The nurse laughs.
Baby A in front of me is thrashing wildly, her tiny limbs outstretched and strained, while Baby B in the incubator closest to Josh is serene and quiet. Both girls are wearing little pink caps and diapers that look three sizes too big for their tiny torsos.
I reach my index finger down to Baby A, and her hand rests against it, barely covering the tip of my finger. At the touch of her soft skin against mine, a fierce protectiveness rises up inside me. “Hi, Luna,” I say softly. She jerks her arms and legs wildly in reply. “Are you the Crazy Monkey who’s been doing Zumba on your mommy’s nerves?”
“Luna?” Josh asks.
I nod.
Josh bites his lip. “Yeah, she’s definitely Crazy Monkey,” he says. “Just look at her—she’s you.”
I can’t help but smile.
“And who’s this?” Josh asks, motioning to the serene baby in the incubator in front of him.
“Marisol,” I say—and right on cue, she throws up her little arm as if to say, “Here!” I can’t help but smile. “But Sarah says we’ll call her Sol—because she says our daughters will be our entire world—our sun and moon.” Tears well up in my eyes. I take a deep breath and force them back down.
“Little Miss Sunshine,” Josh says softly, stroking Marisol’s miniature leg. “Little Miss Sunshine Faraday.”
I can’t help but smile. “Little Miss Sunshine Faraday,” I repeat. I can’t imagine a more perfect name for her.
Josh exhales. “Well, man, it’s official. The Faraday men are hopelessly outnumbered. I’m having this mental image of you, me, and Uncle William standing on a desert island, surrounded by an endless sea of estrogen.”
I grin. I didn’t know my mouth was still capable of turning up, but apparently it is.
“I foresee a helluva lot of pink and purple in our future.”
“No, not purple,” I say adamantly. “Purple is strictly prohibited in my house.”
Josh chuckles. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” He snickers. “You pervert.” There’s a long beat as he strokes Marisol’s arm. “Looks like we’re gonna need to buy a couple more pairs of pink sparkle-boots, huh?”
Right on cue, Luna kicks her little thighs wildly.
“‘Pink sparkie boots!’” Josh says, speaking for Luna. “Yippee!”‘
I can’t help but smile again.
“We’re so screwed,” Josh says.
I look down at Luna and my heart pangs and twists in my chest. Oh my God, is this pain—or is it pleasure? Whatever it is, it’s an overwhelming sensation.
“I already love them,” I say softly. “More than I thought possible.”
Josh shoots me a crooked smile. “Welcome to fatherhood, bro. Isn’t it fun?”
“Oh, yeah—so far, fatherhood’s an effing blast.” I touch Luna’s toes and she flinches under my touch—and, all of a sudden, I want nothing but to feel her tiny body pressed against my chest. “When will we be allowed to hold them?” I ask the nearby nurse.
“As soon as they’re off the ventilators. Hopefully, no more than a few days—maybe even tomorrow. Their lungs seem to be doing