“Think so. Won’t matter to me either way.”

I roll my eyes. “Only because we already know there’s a boy.”

He grins crookedly. “Nah. And you’ll never get me to admit it.”

“Just our luck, it’ll end up being triplets.”

A pained look crosses his face. “You just had to say that, didn’t you.”

“Hell, maybe there will be quadruplets—”

He laughs. It’s a wonderful sound. “Maybe next time.”

“Uh, let’s just get through these two first, and then we’ll talk.” I don’t want to talk about after or next time. I don’t know if I can go through all of this again.

“Bear.”

I shrug, looking down at his hand.

He laughs incredulously. “Bear. Hey. Look at me.”

“You’re driving.”

“Bear.”

I raise my head again.

He glances over at me, making sure I’m watching him. “It’s okay. Of course it is. I would have been fine with how things were before. We didn’t have to do any of this—”

“Don’t.”

He looks confused. “What are you—”

“You get to ask for things,” I tell him, a little angry on his behalf. “You do. This isn’t just about me. Or Tyson. You don’t have to sacrifice things all the time, Otter. You get to ask for things. You deserve to. It may take me a while, but I’ll give you anything I can. So yes, this is something you wanted, and this is something I wanted with you, so yes. Yes. We had to. We get to.”

His voice is rough when he says, “I only ever wanted to be with you. That would have been enough.”

“You don’t get to just have enough. Not while I’m around. And since I apparently have super sperm, I’ll give you more than enough.”

He pulls a face. “And… moment ruined.”

“I can’t help it if I’m extremely potent.”

“Moment ruined even further.”

“Better be careful, or I might end up getting you pregnant.”

He snorts. “So I can tell you that I’m fat with my love for you?”

“Hey! That was a goddamn good story! In fact, I’m considering continuing it one day.”

“You made me a pregnant were-otter.”

“Our kids will need new bedtime stories,” I remind him.

“That’s good that you already have plans to traumatize them.”

“Traumatize? I told it to the Kid when he was little, and look how he turned—and that really doesn’t help prove my point at all, does it?” I hate it when I prove the points of others.

“Eh. Not quite.”

We’re quiet for a little while after that, talk radio murmuring and the miles melting away.

Then, “I don’t care.”

“About?” he asks.

“If they’re both boys. Or if one is a girl. Or if they’re somewhere in between. We’re gonna love them, you know? We’re gonna love them a lot, I think.”

“Yeah,” Otter says, glancing over at me and winking, like he doesn’t even know what that does to my heart. “A lot a lot.”