July 2079 (flashback, almost ten years ago). Mick Graham is 54, Jordan is 19, Colette Marin is 22. 
Colette came over to drop the boys off with Jordan at his dad’s place. Jordan stared at the babies like they were alien creatures. They were still wrinkly and pink and curled up like raisins. When she told him that he would need to take them sometimes, he imagined they might be many months older before that happened.
“Their formula is in the bag,” Colette said. “It’s already mixed, but it needs to go in the fridge. That’s important, did you hear? In the fridge. But they like it warm, just don’t microwave it. Tell me you’re listening?”