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Summary
“Four?”
“Four,” she confirmed, “I understand that this is… Not what you expected.”
“Not what I expected? Brooke, look at me! I’m tiny! I’m— I have a step in my kitchen to reach for the cups when Harry is not around because I can’t get to them! How am I carrying four babies?”
“Four e—”
“If the next word that comes out of your mouth is enigmas, I’m going to walk out."
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Harry is a hockey player, Louis is pretty much his trophy wife and they are expecting, as Louis would say, a fucking litter.