“I don’t know,” I say. “I hear you, it probably is crazy. But people have twins and survive it. I think we’re just…going to do this, and what happens…happens.”

I don’t discount I’m being a little naive here. In fact I’m almost sure that I am. But isn’t that kind of how we survive life in the first place—by staying naive when we need to be?

If we knew how hard things would be, there would probably be no such thing as marriage, no such thing as parenthood; none of life’s big risks. That’s life, right?—you have to live it to know it.

And obviously it’s full of pitfalls, trying to create a blended family like this. It’s rife for jealousy and rivalry and all the rest. I should know, right? But on the other hand, who better than me to do it? I’ve seen the pitfalls, I get it.

I can’t say we’ll get it right, Oliver and I. But I’m confident we’ll do our best.

Dinah exhales.

“I don’t know, Gillian. Rather you than me.”

I smile—I don’t blame her. I’d play devil’s advocate to anyone who suggested such a thing to me, and I can understand that it might seem a bit reckless, but that’s why I feel confident about it. Oliver and I aren’t reckless people. If we’re doing this it means we mean it.

“Well, well,” Dinah says, and smiles at me. “It’s only February still, and what an interesting year.”

Her words jolt me back and I clear my throat, glance out the window.

It’s almost two o’clock.

Dinah follows my glance, and looks back at me: supportive; expectant. There’s a reason she’s here today; and that Jeff’s here, and Abigail, watching TV in the next room with Oliver and trying to help him to pretend he’s not terrified. A reason why Mom’s on her way here too right now. Why I’ve washed and readied pretty much all the glassware in the house and bought in a ton of finger food—it’s a long time since we hosted for nine. It was Mom’s idea. At first I thought it would be overkill, but as the time draws near I’m glad there’s a little crowd.

“Is my hair okay?” I say to Dinah, feeling another roll of butterflies coming on.

She gives me a soft smile.

“Perfect.”

I kind of wish I were drinking again right now. I’m not because of the IVF, but today would be a great day to take a little of the nerves off.

In the living room I hear the television go off mid–ad break, and Dinah and I look at each other as a car door slams outside.

“They’re here,” I murmur, feeling queasy.