Page 133 of What if It's Us

“I stand by it,” I tell her solemnly. “That kid would never be forgotten.”

She laughs. “He’d also never get a job interview.”

Semantics.

I flip a few more pages. “What about traditional but cool? Like Ava, Jack, and Leo?”

“Too short.” She shakes her head. “Feels like a group of people who sell real estate together. ‘Come to Ava, Jack & Leo Realty. We’ll deliver your dream home.’”

“Hmm. You’re not wrong.”

Marlee leans back against a mountain of folded burp cloths. “Okay, serious question. Do we want their names to match at all? Or have totally separate vibes?”

“I mean, they’re sharing a womb. Maybe they deserve a little independence.”

She nods. “Yeah. Maybe not matchy-matchy per se. Just…sibling synergy.”

“Alright. Vibe check. What do you think of…” I flip another couple pages. “Olive, Theo, and Juniper?”

“Cute,” she says with a bob of her head. “Olive and Juniper are a little ‘herbal garden,’ but I don’t hate it.”

“Okay, okay. New round. Top three contenders you like.”

She thinks for a moment before she answers, “Ellis, Rowan, and Quinn.”

Hmm. Not bad.

“Strong, unisex. Stylish.” I nod. “I feel like those kids own neutral-toned onesies and emotional intelligence.”

“Exactly.” She grins.

I pick up a whiteboard marker and add Ellis, Rowan, and Quinn to our growing list on the fridge. Other names were already crossed out:

Bagel—crossed out three times.

Maverick, Blaze, and Thor, with “not an action movie” written beside them.

Maisie, Daisy, and Paisley: “too rhymey—sounds like a girl group”

Hockey, Puck, and Goal: absolutely vetoed

Marlee watches me scribble and squeals. “Can you believe we’re actually going to meet them soon?”

I look over at her, softer now. Marveling at how exquisitely beautiful she looks. So different from the woman I’ve crushed on for years, yet somehow, better. Seasoned. Mature. Confident. “Three tiny humans with our faces. And hopefully your sleeping habits,” I joke.

She reaches over and grabs my hand. “And your heart.”

I swallow hard and nod. “We’re gonna figure this out, right?”

“With the naming?”

“With…all of it.”

“We made them, Ledge.” She smiles and squeezes my hand. “We’ll raise them, we’ll name them something that doesn’t make future teachers cry, and we’ll love them like hell.”

I glance back at the list and add one more name under Ellis, Rowan, and Quinn.

Baby Bagel, in tiny letters, with a winky face.

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