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“I’m not saying it to be mean, Gail. But damn. What you did, that would make anyone suspicious of what you say and do afterwards. Then to find out you weren’t honest about your medicine… come on, girl. It’s no wonder if they’re being less than hospitable.”
Thinking back over the last five days, I’m also forced to see how much of an effort they’ve made. Not just by asking me about Luce, and comforting me. Both Soren and Mickey have gone out of their way to make sure I’m comfortable, and… looked after.
Mickey bought me some new bras without me even mentioning I needed new ones, they were just there, in the drawers one morning. And Soren, who usually gets up first, always makes sure to make me a cup of tea and have a piece of fruit ready.
“Do you have feelings for them?” Luce asks when I take too long to answer her previous question.
I exhale slowly. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Maybe…”
She nods thoughtfully. “Okay. Well, maybe you should find out.” I blow out a breath. “Because you might have demanded they show you a little r-e-s-p-e-c-t—” And yes, she freaking sings that part! “—but it needs to go both ways. If you want them, take them. Claim them. Make them yours. But if not, then what the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t have a choice right now,” I say, the words falling from my mouth before I’ve thought them through.
“Abigail!”
“Lucia!”
She sighs. “There’s always a choice,” she insists. “If you’re just with them because you feel like that’s your only option, then why not just… I don’t know, if only you had a bestie with connections to the Mafia—”
“No!” I gasp. Then I swallow, forcing myself not to say something I’ll regret later. “Look, you know I love you, buttercup. And your family is… your business. But that’s not me. I’ll figure this out on my own.”
Instead of looking disappointed, Luce smiles like a proud mother hen. “That’s my girl,” she coos in a ridiculously over the top tone. “Now that we’ve established you’re doing things your way, fucking own it and stop being so scared.”
Right… right. I smell what she’s cooking in that deviously brilliant brain of hers. Basically, Luce is reminding me to own my choices instead of hiding behind agoing with the flowattitude. Kinda. And it makes sense.
But whether I want the guys or not, I honestly don’t know. I mean, I do and I don’t. I love the way they are when we’re together, and the sex is as explosive as it’s addictive. But beyond that, I haven’t really allowed myself to give it much thought. They’ve made it clear they’re tolerating me, so in turn, I’ve demanded payment.
Ugh, I keep coming back to the way things have been for the past few days, where something’s clearly changed between us. They’re being less hostile; hell, Mickey even talks to Fet sometimes. And Soren is looking into getting a nursery set up in his house, even considering buying another house to avoid having stairs.
And while they’ve put in all this effort, I can’t claim to have done the same. Does that make me a bad person, a bad mom? I don’t know. But something tells me I better make a decision about them soon.
Gail
The chill of the clinic’s air conditioning is a stark contrast to the heat pooling in my belly as we step through the automatic doors. Mickey’s hand, firm on the small of my back, guides me forward, and Soren’s presence looms like a protective shadow at my side. We’ve been here before, but today the stakes are mountainous, threatening to crumble and bury me under their weight.
“Good morning,” the receptionist chirps, her eyes flickering curiously over our unconventional trio. “Name?”
“Abigail Wilson,” I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel.
She taps away at her keyboard; the clicks punctuating the silence that stretches taut between us. “Alright, you’re checked in. Have a seat, Dr. Patel will see you shortly.”
The leather of the waiting room chairs squeaks as I sink down, sandwiched by the two towering figures of my… what exactly are they? Lovers? Definitely boyfriends or friends with benefits. My heart rate picks up, each thud echoing louder than the last. The magazine in my hands might as well be written in ancient Greek for all the sense it makes.
“Hey, sweetheart, deep breaths,” Mickey whispers, leaning close enough for his breath to fan across my cheek, smelling like mint gum. His thumb strokes the back of my hand in soothing circles.
Soren doesn’t say anything, but his green eyes, intense and watchful, never leave me. He’s always been the strong, silent type, and today is no exception. I wonder, not for the first time, if he’s thinking about his twin, about the family he once had. But right now, he’s here, with me, with us.
“Ms. Wilson?” Dr. Patel’s voice cuts through the fog of my apprehension, and I startle, my pulse kicking up a notch. “Come on back.”
I rise, legs trembling slightly, and Mickey and Soren flank me, their solidarity unspoken but felt in every line of their bodies. We file into the examination room, a symphony of nerves and anticipation.
“Please, take a seat.” Dr. Patel gestures to the chair next to her desk, and I perch on the edge, trying to appear calm.
“Before we get to the ultrasound,” she starts, and the room seems to shrink, the walls closing in as the moment of truth hovers within reach. “We have the results of the paternity test.”
My breath catches, lodging itself somewhere between hope and dread. Mickey’s grip tightens on my hand, while Soren stands stoic but ready to catch me if I shatter. This is it. This tiny slip of paper holds the power to redefine everything.
Dr. Patel looks at all three of us, a small nod acknowledging the unusual nature of our relationship. She understands the weight of what she’s about to disclose, the emotional tsunami it could unleash. Even though I know one of the men with me is the dad, I brace myself, feeling every bit as exposed and vulnerable as the day I walked into Cupid’s Court, completely unaware of how profoundly these two men would alter the course of my life.
