I can't look at my father. If he went through the messages from last night, he would be furious with Nate. The entire rest of the text messages we exchanged went from 0-100 in the blink of an eye. All on his part. My texts were innocent while his would even make E.L. James gasp.

"Awful silent this morning. What's on your mind?"

"I'm just wondering where we should put the cribs. My room isn't very big and we don't have a guest room."

Big lie, but it is something I should be thinking about in the near future.

"We could convert the garage into your room."

The 'garage' is a glorified storage room. All of my mother's stuff is out there in boxes along with memorabilia from my childhood and my father's past. There hasn't been a car in the garage in years.

"Where would all the stuff from the garage go?"

"Turn your room into a storage space."

"But the twins are due in less than two months. How will it get done that quickly?"

"I know some guys from prison who owe me favors."

Did I forget to mention that my dad spent a year in prison when I was a baby? Some guy called my mom some derogatory names and said that she shouldn't have had a baby so young.

That's when my dad taught the guy a lesson in front of mall security and was sent to prison for aggravated assault.

"Like who?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll call them up and it'll be done for the twins to arrive home."

"If you say so."

"No thanks?"

"Thank you, Dad. For everything."

"You're welcome, Celia."

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Sorry for the odd chapter here. It's kind of a filler.