Christian got you pregnant. And... Well, let's say he had strong genes. Because how many babies did he put in you? Well, seven. Yes, seven. Four boys and three girls that you will names with only names starting with C, because why not? Callahan, Cairo, Carmen and Cohen for the four boys; and Chrisstie, Corrie and Callypso for the three girls.

Christian's mother, Lisa, was in her luxury SPA lounge, in the middle of the afternoon, yes.

Lisa was reclining on a velvet lounger, in a silk robe, mud mask on, sipping an overpriced cucumber water while five shirtless massage therapists attend to her like she’s Cleopatra.

Christian called.

Lisa took the call, before cheerfully speaking up. "Hi baby! Did you two find out if it’s a boy or a girl? I’ve already picked out Gucci for both options just in case."

Christian was standing in the middle of the living room, looking like a man who’s seen war. Hair disheveled. Ultrasound photos in hand. You were sitting behind him on the couch, trying not to laugh into a pillow.

"Hey, Mom... Uh, yeah, about that. So. Um... It’s a little more complicated than that." Christian said, a bit nervous as he stared at the ultrasound print.

Lisa blinked. "...Triplets?"

Christian's eyebrows furrowed, sighing as he whispered softly. "More."

And Lisa... Was smiling less as she looked at her son. "...Quadruplets?"

And Christian retorted. "More."

Lisa then sat up violently, cucumbers falling off. "Christian Louis Alexander Convery! How many babies did you put in that girl?!" She shouted. Which also made the staff around her raising their eyebrows...

And Christian mumbled out. "Seven."

"SEVEN?!" Lisa shouted.

You waved shyly at the FaceTime camera from behind him, like. "Hi. It’s me. The factory..."

Lisa was litterally horrified. "I knew you had strong genes, but this?! This is not a pregnancy! This is an invasion!"

"They all start with C too-" Christian retorted.

Lisa was gasping. "You named them already?! You two were supposed to wait until I got to the wine part of my spa day- Now I need a martini..."

She dramatically removed her face mask mid-scream, flung it at a masseuse, then grabbed her giant designer tote and yelled to her entourage. "Prepare the Nursery Wing! We need seven cribs and a Priest."

"Oh my god..." Christian mumbled out, burrying his face in his hands.