"Ten kids?" Claire gasps, her mind imagining ten babies consecutively churned out by her poor womb. What the hell is this guy talking about? They've never mentioned anything like that!
"Yes, ten beautiful children," Gabriel says, slightly kicking Claire's foot under the table. "Or would you want more? Let's make it an even dozen!"
Claire finally gets it, but even as part of this pretend setup, she couldn't swallow the pretend facts that Gabriel randomly throws into the conversation. "I'm down for two dozen kids, 'honey', if that's what you really want!"
Gabriel laughs. "A dozen children would be nice, but double that number might be a tiny bit too many." He turns to Miguel. "Exciting times, Migs. So I hope Mom's going to be fully onboard with these life-changing decisions."
Miguel says nothing. He smiles, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass. "Iā¦I can't answer for Mom, of course. But I'm sure everything will turn out fine."
"So you're saying she's still recuperating."
