“Too true,” I said. “I’ll think of another metaphor.”

Both babies began to wriggle and mewl.

“What’s the matter, poppet?” Nick cooed. “Did luncheon go down the wrong way?”

But the energy in the whole room had started to shift, and maybe the girls sensed it. I craned my neck and saw, in the distance, the doctors and nurses exchanging frantic expressions, then scurrying over to form a line toward the door. I heard the water at the scrubbing station turn on, and the tear of the plastic around another sterile pre-soaped brush, before a very specific voice drifted through the NICU.

“This soap smells ghastly,” we heard Queen Eleanor say. “How dreadful that these poor babies start life thinking that the world reeks of loo cleaner.”

Nick and I exchanged holy shit looks, and shortly thereafter, the Queen appeared in front of us wearing a lavender coatdress and matching hat, smiling and nodding and politely thanking the staff for taking such wonderful care of all the babies. “And particularly mine,” she said, stopping in front of me. She leaned down and poked at a little foot that had come free of its swaddle. “Hello, madam,” she said. “It’s your favorite relative.”

Everyone scattered, having paid sufficient respects, and the three of us were alone in our corner of the NICU. One of the nurses, as she left, pulled the curtains around us for privacy.

“They’re so tiny,” Eleanor marveled.

“Would you like to hold one?” I asked. Eleanor shrank back a bit, nervous, so I added, “Like all the women in this family, they’re tougher than anyone thinks.”

Eleanor looked pleased, and sat in the nearby empty glider. I carefully handed over the baby in my arms, who blinked with interest up at her great-grandmother.

“Look, Nick,” I said. “A pair of queens.”

She whipped up her head, more surprised than I’d seen her before. “Are you implying what you seem to be implying?”

“Yes,” Nick said. “You’ve had enough traumatic chapters in your life. We’re not going to be the authors of another.”

Eleanor took a deep breath. “I know all too well that it’s one thing to make a decision but quite another to live with it,” she said. “As someone who had to do that for a very long time, I can tell you, at times the pain made me wonder if the alternative would have been easier.” She looked up at Nick. “Are you ready for that? Do you think you can live out this choice without regrets?”

Nick gazed at his grandmother, his smile rueful but resigned. “No one lives without regrets, really,” he said. “But when they surface, and I’m sure they will, I just have to remember that I’m doing this for something bigger.” He glanced at the baby in his arms. “And something much smaller. The same way you did.”

“My darling, darling boy,” she said. “Thank you.”

She looked over at the baby Nick held, and then down at the one in her arms. Then she cleared her throat and turned to me. “Rebecca, there’s something I need to tell you,” she said. “I realize I abused our relationship by telling you a very specific version of the truth, but it’s important to me that you know the relationship itself was not a lie.” She took a moment, and cleared her throat. “You matter to me very much.”