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She pulls the wand out of my vagina and tosses the large condom type thing into the wastebasket.
She finishes cleaning up the space, then stands, handing me a wad of tissues to clean myself up.
“I’ll give you two a moment, then I’ll have you check out at reception to schedule your next appointment.”
“Thank you,” Hunter says.
When she’s gone, we stare at each other for a moment before Hunter speaks.
“Would you like to process this over ice cream?”
* * *
HUNTER
With the shock of finding out we’re having twins still fresh, Sophie and I walked to the park to get ice cream. We’re now standing in line at the ice cream cart on the corner of Sixty-Fifth and Central Park West.
I think about the fuzzy picture on my kitchen counter identifying not one, but two babies that are currently nestled inside the lining of Sophie’s uterus. That’s where babies grow. Until we were standing in the ultrasound room, I thought I was a smart man. I run a multibillion-dollar real estate development company, but it turns out, I know nothing.
This entire experience has been humbling.
“I was just coming to terms with the one baby. Now, there are two in there?” She points to her flat stomach as we move up in line. “Do you have some kind of magic sperm that creates multiple babies?”
I can’t help but smile at her question. “I’m sure my sperm is special, but the information the tech gave me says that identical twins are completely random. The fertilized egg split, making two babies.”
“How are we going to tell the babies apart? If they’re identical, how will we know which is which?”
I give her a comforting smile and a quick kiss to her temple. “I think we’ll get to know them and be able to tell.”
I don’t have any more answers than Sophie does right now, but I can tell she needs me to be certain, so I do my best to be that for her.
“Would you want boys or girls?”
I shrug. “I’d be happy with either. I just want them to be healthy.”
“You’re right. I just thought kids were so far in my future, I haven’t given any of this much thought. And names? Now, we’ll needtwo. And not just any two. They’ll have to coordinate. Give off the same vibe. We can’t have a Lark, and a Barbara. Or a Theo and a Sheldon.”
“These are all important things to think about, and the good news is, we’ve got time.”
When it’s our turn, Sophie orders salted Oreo and I select coffee with praline crunch.
The man hands Sophie her waffle cone, then reaches for another to start scooping mine up.
“Wait, I only ordered one scoop,” Sophie says, pointing at her cone.
He motions with the ice cream scooper. “That is one scoop.”
“No, it’s two,” Sophie argues.
“I push a small scoop down into the cone,” he says with his thick Jersey accent, demonstrating his technique while scooping up my ice cream, “then I put the big scoop on top.”
Sophie’s nostrils flare. “So, you agree, it’s two.”
He looks to me for help.
I shrug. “It’s technically two scoops.”
“It’s a BOGO situation, but I just wanted the BO, not the GO.”
