Flint sat down on the couch in his small living room. He stared at the boxes containing parts to the furniture he'd be putting together later. A crib, a rocking chair, and a changing table, all in a matching dark wood. He knew he ought to start at least one of them, but he couldn't bring himself to tear open the first box. It made the situation that much more inevitable.

It's going to happen whether I put these together or not, he mused. He still couldn't quite believe that he was going to be a dad. He'd had months now to get used to the idea…but when he thought about his own father, about his brothers, who were now fathers themselves…they were so adult. They seemed to know what they were doing, how to handle a baby, how to feed it, change it, and all of the other myriad things that were part of the package. And he wasn't going to have to take care of just one, but two! At once! He tried to put on a brave face for Alison's sake, but truth be told, he was terrified. Knowing his mother was on her way to visit made him feel even younger. He wondered how she'd managed to raise such a rambunctious group of boys and keep her sanity.

Abandoning the projects for the moment, Flint stood and stretched, walking to the guest room at the back of the apartment. On the way he peeked his head into his own bedroom, where Alison napped peacefully. He guessed that he had at least another hour before she awoke—hungry again, most likely—which was enough time to work on his other project and have everything put away again before she got up.

He pulled out the box from under the guest bed and opened the flap. He began taking out books, glancing at the titles and stacking them neatly in the order in which he thought he should read them. One by one, he read the backs of "The Dad Book," "The Baby Book," "Parenting With Love and Logic," and "The Happiest Baby on the Block," but set them all back in their places. With a sigh he picked up "Parenting for Dummies" and opened to the first chapter.

An hour and a half later, Flint looked up, startled to realize that Alison was standing in the doorway, watching him. It was too late to pretend he'd been doing anything else. Books lay scattered over the coverlet in now untidy heaps.

Silently Alison crossed the room and carefully picked up two books to make room for herself on the bed next to him. She idly flipped through "Parenting the Strong-Willed Child," before letting it close with a soft thump. She looked up at him, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "So you think our children are going to be strong-willed?"

Flint let out a small chuckle. "With your genes in them? How could they not be?"

Alison batted him playfully on the shoulder. "Mine? What about yours? You're the most mule-headed man I've ever met."

"Good lord, they don't stand a chance, do they?" He smiled.

"Nope." Alison giggled. She silently counted the titles that lay across the bed. "You must have completely cleaned out the bookstore, Dash. Why were you hiding them in here?"

He gave her a sheepish grin. "I didn't want you to think I was scared about this whole thing."

"Are you?" She frowned, faint worry lines appearing on her brow.

Flint took her hands in his and met her eyes. "Very." He gave her hands a squeeze and continued, "But I'm stubborn, remember? I plan on being there for every bit of it."

She ran her eyes over the books again. "Parenting For Dummies, huh?"

"Yeah, that title just kind of jumped out at me for some reason."

"I wonder why," she said wryly. "You do know that this entire industry of baby marketing just feeds on the fear of new parents?"

Flint shrugged. "If everyone feels as clueless as I do, I can see why." He put his hand to her stomach, rubbing briefly. He was rewarded by the feel of a strong kick against his palm. "That's my boy," he said proudly.

Alison harrumphed. "It could have been your girl, you know. I think girls are supposed to kick more."

"I didn't read that anywhere," Flint protested.

"Believe it or not, those books don't tell you everything." Alison rose awkwardly and kneaded the small of her back. "I'm going to fix a snack." She plucked the black and yellow Dummies book from the coverlet. "Mind if I borrow this?"

Flint nodded his assent, not daring to comment. Smart ass remarks tended to get him in trouble these days. Well, more than they used to. Alison gave him a look that told him she'd read the unspoken comment on his face nonetheless. She tucked the book under her arm and headed toward the kitchen.

Picking up the next book, Flint wondered if maybe he wasn't the only one terrified about what was to come. Alison must be just as scared as he at the thought of suddenly being responsible for two small lives.

He stood, letting the book fall. Heading back to the living room, he picked up the small tool box and sat down next to the unopened furniture boxes. He had a lot of work to do if they were going to be ready for the twins.