I signaled to my sister, who stepped forward holding two beautifully wrapped boxes tied with thick satin ribbons.

“I have a ‘Godmother of the Year’ gift for Claire,” I said, taking the smaller, square box. “And a ‘Father of the Year’ gift for my wonderful husband.”

I handed them out. The guests “awwed” in unison. Claire looked genuinely touched, pressing a hand to her chest. Damon looked slightly confused, but puffed out his chest, ready to accept the praise.

“Open them,” I urged, stepping back, hands resting protectively over my stomach. “Open them at the same time.”

The ribbons fell away. The crisp sound of tearing paper echoed in the quiet room.

Claire lifted the lid of her box first. Damon followed a second later.