They hadn't expected twins.
(Who expected twins?)
And yet, there Holly was. Standing in their kitchen and trying to make sense of the phone call she'd just received, the dishes from lunch forgotten on the island as she stood in silent shock in the middle of the sun-lit room.
Twins.
Two babies.
Two new babies to join their precocious, rambunctious, adorable but already-exhausting toddler.
"Mama," Remy called from the couch in the living room, "book!"
Holly forced herself back into the moment, forced the call to the back of her mind and wiped her hands on a towel before seeking out her daughter in the other room.
"Okay, monkey, what story have you picked out for us today," she asked and joined the little girl on the couch, "oh, Ducklings, my favorite."
Remy cuddled into her mother's side, and held tight to her blanket, a soft baby quilt that Holly's mom had made and brought just after the birth of her first, unexpected, granddaughter. She listened intently as Holly read, head beginning to nod sweetly as her mother's familiar voice lulled her to sleep with the tale of Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Pack, Quack, and Ouack.
By the time the ducklings were all safe in their new home, Remy was asleep, her hot body tucked against Holly's arm as she breathes heavily and freely in her sleep.
They sat like that for a moment, mother and daughter. There were chores to be done and calls to be made, but, Holly decided, all of that could wait for a while. The dishes would keep until later, her budget report wasn't due until the end of the month, and Gail would be gone until dinner, at least. There was time to sit on the couch, to pull her baby girl into her arms and watch the simple promise of Remy breathing and dreaming and existing.
Once she'd sat on this same couch with her three-day-old daughter and marveled at how impossibly tiny a miracle could be. Small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, and somehow big enough to fill your entire future with reasons and hopes and dreams.
Where had the time gone, Holly wondered, how had so many seconds and minutes and hours slipped past without them noticing? How had the tiny baby they'd brought home from the hospital grown so much so quickly?
Three years and a million precious moments.
And still so many ahead. Joys and pains and everything that fell in-between.
So much more to come.
And in a second, Holly knew.
The answer was going to be yes.
It was always going to be yes.
Holly stood carefully, not wanting to disturb the sleeping world in her arms. Upstairs, she tucked Remy in-between the dinosaur sheets Gail had bought for their daughter's big-girl bed. She dropped a kiss on the sweet-smelling forehead, and then lingered for a moment or two more before sighing and turning to the door.
In the hall, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and hit the first number on her speed dial, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor outside her daughter's room.
"Hey, baby," Holly half-whispered to Gail's voicemail, "I just wanted to let you know, I got the call. We got the call. Twins–boys. Three weeks old, preemies born with addictions and heart complications. But strong, Margo says–fighters."
She paused for a second, gathering all of her courage and all of her love.
And when she spoke again, it was without a waver, without a single doubt.
"And I know, it's more than we thought. Two babies. Health problems. But I think we should do it, Gail, I think we should say yes."
And then Holly ended the call and closed her eyes, images of the future ahead of them, so full of love, swimming behind her eyes.
She sat like for several minutes, drifting in the soft quiet between awake and dreaming, until the gentle voice of her partner broke into her meditations.
"My answer is always yes, Lunchbox," Gail said from the top of the stairwell, pulling Holly back into the now.
"Margo called me too," the blonde said with a smile, explaining her unexpected but never unwelcome presence.
She sat down on the floor next to Holly and reached for the older woman's hand, tangling their fingers together.
"Yes," the brunette asked in a whisper, a smile already tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Yes," Gail repeated, and sealed her word with a kiss.
Two weeks later, frazzled and overwhelmed but completely in love, Gail and Holly welcomed two brand new worlds into their little home.
"Say hello to your brothers," Gail whispered into their daughter's ear, holding Remy up to see the boys in their crib, tucked into the corner of their mothers' room.
"Hi, Justus," Remy said with a sweet laugh as her mothers looked on, "hi, Victor."
Holly sighed and smiled, the last little pieces of their life clicking into place.
It was messy and it was unexpected and it was perfect.
Perfect.