Epilogue
Alice
T he wave of nausea crested again. Gagging, Alice spat bitter bile into the toilet. Her knees protested the morning’s rapid transition from cozy sheets to cold tile, but her wobbly stomach and heaving shoulders promised more retching to come.
“I refuse to be sick.” She had nothing in her stomach to throw up. Couldn’t be food poisoning; she hadn’t eaten since dinner last night. And Henry and Jay weren’t sick. Had anyone at the office been acting suspiciously flu-like? “We are not doing this today.”
Great that this little bug hadn’t shown itself over the weekend—this year’s commemoration of their inaugural dinner date had been one for the record books—but today was the actual day. Tonight was the actual night. Three years exactly since she’d followed Henry’s instructions to stand up and bend over the dining room table, and changed her life. If Henry didn’t have special dinner plans in mind, she’d eat her shoes.
Her stomach gurgled and rolled. Retching produced nothing.
“No food talk, got it.” She could call in sick to work, maybe analyze the data from the latest drone test while resting on the couch. But if she wasn’t feeling better by tonight, Henry wouldn’t let her play. And as beautiful as their bathroom was, she sure as hell would not be spending the next however many hours hunched over the toilet. “Let’s try this again.”
Using the wall for balance, she hoisted herself upright and flushed. A slow shuffle brought her to the sink without more queasiness crawling up her throat. Her equilibrium had turned into some wonky funhouse shit. The room swayed as she washed out her mouth and splashed her face with cool water. Maybe she’d gotten an inner ear infection.
“Summer colds are the worst.” Brushing her teeth nearly set her off again. Mint toothpaste had never tasted so cloyingly awful. Work was for sure a no-go. Her phone was still in the nightstand drawer on silent so it wouldn’t wake Jay. Henry would be waiting for her to come down to breakfast. On a normal Monday, she’d dress for work and carry her day collar down for him to fasten—a quiet moment together before she headed out to catch the train.
With halting steps, she managed her way back to bed and gratefully sank into the mattress. The thin summer covers lay ridiculously far away, their silver sheen rising like a low stone wall between her and Jay.
“You came back.” Jay almost made it a question as he rolled over, tanned arms reaching for her, his hair mussed and his eyes blinking sleepily. One hundred percent kissable on any other morning. “Need a partner for your shower?”
“No shared shower, sorry, sweetheart.” Curling her knees to her chest, she lifted her face toward the open window beyond Jay’s shoulder. A breeze fluttered the sheers. Maybe she could sit on the roof deck and let the sun bake the illness out of her. “Don’t get too close. I don’t want you catching this little bug.”
“Bug?” In half a blink, Jay yanked himself upright against the headboard and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. “Are you okay? Does Henry know? What can I bring you? Chicken noodle soup? Cough drops? Orange juice?”
She swallowed back the disgust flooding her mouth. Toothpaste had been bad enough; orange juice would be torture. “No, nothing. It’s just my stomach.” That and the wobbles. “And my balance. I need to let work know. I’m sorry to get you out of bed early.”
“Don’t even worry about it.” Smoothing her hair back, he followed his hand with a kiss at her temple. “Alarm woulda gone off in twenty minutes anyway.” He tucked extra pillows behind her, forming a slope she could rest against, and her stomach didn’t hate it. “Let me see what Henry recommends.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Her body hadn’t gone haywire like this in forever—the closest might’ve been the hangover she’d had that disastrous spring more than two years ago, right before their whole relationship nearly crashed and burned. But Henry served alcohol sparingly, and not at all since they’d decided—
“You rest.” Jay traveled the long way around the bed, passing the cycling clothes Henry had hung on his dressing rack, and fetched the phone she could’ve rooted for in the nightstand drawer herself. He pressed it into her hand. “We’ve got you.”
“I know.” She fought to keep her voice even over the pounding of her heart. Her text flew to the aeronautics drone team leader as Jay hustled out the door and down the stairs. She dropped the phone to the sheets and cradled her stomach. Nothing looked different—same soft, poochy tummy her husbands had kissed and celebrated all weekend on their way to more sensitive destinations.
She’d gotten the birth control implant removed from her arm a little over three months ago. She could be—they could be—and she wasn’t tracking, because Jay had won her and Henry over with his whole heartfelt let’s not make it a chore speech. They could save efficiency and color-coded temperature calendars for if things didn’t come easy.
But maybe, just maybe—
Parenthood would be a bigger adventure than making the leap to aeronautics. Understanding spaceflight was nothing compared to understanding a whole new person. Especially one she’d be building sight-unseen inside herself.
She stroked the curve of her belly below her navel. “We’ve got you.”
Henry
The summer sun sprawled through the kitchen and stretched its fingers into the dining room as Henry lightly buttered a small skillet. Omelet fixings waited in tidy piles on the cutting board, the pan ready to warm at the first hint of Alice descending the stairs.
The tomatoes he’d picked this morning, the first of the season from the raised bed Jay and Alice had constructed on the patio in May. After last year’s container garden on the roof deck had proved so successful, the delight of sun-warmed vegetables at their fingertips had spurred the experimental expansion in the backyard. Tonight’s menu would begin with a cucumber and radish salad—he ought to bring both down from the rooftop garden at the end of his afternoon work session. The commission was coming along quite nicely from his sketches; today’s work would add depth and personality to the facial expressions.
He whipped the eggs in a measuring cup, the fork clinking against the glass as he broke the yolks. Two eggs for Alice, with a pinch of chives from the windowsill. She ought to be on her way any moment—offering her day collar for him to clasp.
He set the eggs aside and washed his hands at the sink. Nineteen months and the spark had yet to diminish, each day brightened as he smoothed the necklace around her throat, held her close, and breathed in the crisp lightness of his wife fresh from her morning shower.
Footsteps, precisely on time. Drying his hands, he cocked his head, the better to identify the unexpected. A heavier tread, and faster as well—not Alice but Jay. Jay who ought yet be dozing in bed or waking to a kiss and shower instructions from their wife.
Henry rounded the kitchen island as Jay appeared in the hallway. Nude, striding with purpose, Jay emerged from shadow to sunlight, his hair sleep-tousled and swaying. “Henry?”
“Tell me.” That something was wrong wasn’t in question; their weekday mornings had an established rhythm, and Jay’s early appearance did not fit the pattern. Had their weekend celebration left Alice sore? Some muscle strain unnoticed in the moment but preventing her now from rising?
“Alice is queasy. She thinks it’s the flu, but—” Jay stopped before him, weight shifting foot to foot, brown eyes wide as an endless field of newly tilled earth. “Do you think—should we—I could run out to the drugstore and grab some tests.”
Heat pulsed through him, from a fire in his chest to the tingling tips of his fingers. Small hairs stood on end, the same prickling sensation at the back of his neck as when he stepped back from a painting and knew it complete. The work the three of them created would be a masterpiece, starting from these first tentative strokes.
Jay rubbed the back of his neck, shaking out shaggy dark hair. “How many to be sure, you think? Three? Four? I should…” He scanned down his body, blinking as if his firm abdominals and sturdy thighs belonged to some other beautiful creature. “Get dressed before I go.”
“No need.” Henry closed the gap, replacing Jay’s hold with his own. He laced his hands and bent Jay’s head to his, willing clear-minded calm with each slow exhale. His panic might manifest later, though the therapist Danny had recommended had been exceedingly helpful in working through his fears surrounding pregnancy and parenthood. They’d all had their work to do in the last year and a half. But this part, this uncertain joy in the liminal space between not-parents and lifelong commitment to a wonder they hadn’t met yet—for this part he had thoroughly prepared. “I procured what we would need in advance.”
Jay relaxed under his grip, breathing out hard. “I know I said we shouldn’t overthink it, but I wanna do this right. Make things easy so Alice doesn’t have to worry. That massage class I took is gonna come in real handy for her back and her feet and—”
“And we ought to make certain our suspicions are correct before we begin mapping out the months ahead, my brilliant boy.” Far simpler said than done. He waded through questions of nursery design and breastfeeding schedules on his way to the initial question, the only one that mattered until they had a definitive answer: Was Alice pregnant? Only when that had been established would it be appropriate to ask about accommodations for pumping milk in her workplace and whether Mother would care to collaborate on a mural for the baby’s bedroom. Brooke’s girls adored the storybook forest she’d created for them. Gripping Jay’s shoulders, Henry spun and steered him toward the pantry. “Left side, second shelf from the top.”
“In the pantry?” Jay gamely ducked inside, flipping on the light as he went.
“The humidity in the bathroom is too variable for long-term storage, and I hadn’t a sense of when we might need them.” They had agreed not to micromanage the process, but some small amount of planning hardly constituted zealotry. To be fair, he’d had an inkling last week when her cycle hadn’t arrived, though it was only the third month since they’d stopped birth control, and some hormonal rebalancing wasn’t unheard of. “Will you fetch a tray and a package of soda crackers as well? I’ll boil water for tea.”
“She might not want anything.” Packaging rustled; Jay must have found the bag from the pharmacy. “You should’ve seen the yuck face she made when I offered orange juice.”
“We shall see.” The patter of the water filling the electric kettle offered a soothing focus. Elation made him lightheaded, rushed them both faster than wisdom would suggest. Steadiness would serve them well, temper the excitement romping through his veins. “Bland food may be more palatable, and small meals every hour or two may prevent the empty stomach that amplifies nausea.”
“Is that, like, common dom knowledge?” Jay, backing out of the pantry with his hands full, nudged the light off with his elbow and shut the door with his foot. “Or have you been doing extra credit pre-dad work?”
“I may have been doing a bit of advance reading.” Of course he had; a man couldn’t change his identity entire merely because they’d agreed not to invest in colorful gel pens and a fertility tracking journal. He plucked a ginger tea sachet from the basket on the counter and hung it over the side of Alice’s favorite mug. Jay had gifted them each the custom design at Christmas, a smattering of gears and paintbrushes surrounding the text: Magic happens where engineering and artistry meet . “No different than you encouraging Em to invite that massage therapist to lead a class at the club last fall, hmm?”
Jay slid a small serving tray onto the kitchen island. Two pregnancy test kits and four sleeves of plain crackers nearly filled the space. “Maaaybe. I might’ve been thinking ahead on that one. But it’s been good so far, right?”
“You have been a spectacular practitioner, and Alice and I have both benefitted mightily from your handling.” He opened his arms, and Jay surged into his embrace. Fierce kneading mashed Henry’s casual linen shirt into his back. Bubbles rose in the clear kettle, detaching from the bottom one by one. “Is there a fear you wish to name, dearest?”
“Not fear. But a thought that won’t quit circling.” Jay trembled head to toe, fitting himself tightly against Henry, smelling of sleepy earth waking from its winter nap. Arms roped up Henry’s back like suspenders, Jay clenched his fingers deep in Henry’s shoulders, vibrating them both. “Just—what if this is it? Really it?”
Henry’s heart leapt in response, approaching the galloping thuds from Jay’s chest pressed to his. A smile took control of his face, an outlet for the growing heat within. He might’ve tucked the sun beneath his ribs to cause such a conflagration. “What if we have a child on the way?”
Jay nodded, his face buried beside Henry’s ear. “We talked about it for months, and I know we’re ready, but are we ready-ready? Have we done enough? Kids deserve—they deserve—”
“They deserve you, my love.”
Shuddering, Jay clutched him with greater force and drew back to arm’s length. Henry traced the line of his jaw, bristly with morning stubble. He finger-combed back the strands of hair sliding across Jay’s soulful eyes. Clasping Jay’s cheeks in both hands, he shook his husband gently.
“Our child deserves a parent with compassion and wonder, with a boundless curiosity to help them explore the world, with the protective instincts to shield them from the harshness you learned far too soon.” He held no doubts, not one, that Jay would approach fatherhood with the open heart he brought to every relationship. His own heart might be more hidden, but he grew capable of greater expression day by day. Reading more of Father’s journals and comparing the inner man to the blank outer canvas he’d presented to his children had hastened Henry’s desire to avoid the same fate. His child would not find him cold and impenetrable. “We will nurture this child with all the love we yearned for and lacked. We will comfort and teach them from the wisdom of our experience. We will cherish their individuality in mind, heart, and body, and encourage them to pursue the dreams that make them tremble as we tremble now, awaiting their arrival in our lives.”
Bit by bit, Jay matched Henry’s slow, steady breathing. He waved his hands up and down along his chest. “That helps. A lot. Can we write that down and stick it on the mirror or something? Things are going like a popcorn popper in here, one thought exploding after another.”
“For me as well.” The admission came more readily to his tongue than it would have a year or two ago.
Jay stepped in close and clasped his hand, pressing Henry’s knuckles against his strong thigh as they watched the kettle do its work. “That helps more.”
Bubbles of all sizes launched themselves furiously at the water’s surface. The kettle clicked off automatically, and Henry poured the water over the tea. Golden green bloomed and spread, growing to fill the mug. Equilibrium, Alice would say. They had done the same, three souls mixing and coloring each other’s thoughts and feelings until they reached a state of balance. A place with the capacity for more.
Shoring him up with the sturdiest of shoulders, Jay spooned a dollop of honey into the tea and stirred. “Now I know how you and Alice feel all the time, wanting the answers to everything.”
Henry rearranged the tray, adding the mug alongside a lesser hoard of crackers and a single pregnancy test, and pushed the bamboo edge toward Jay with his fingertips. “Shall we start with one very important answer?”
Jay
Toting the serving tray with both hands, Jay followed Henry into the bedroom. Alice rested against the pillows he’d piled up for her. She’d dragged the sheet across her legs. Did she seem more Mom-ish? Wiser? Serene?
She thrust a stop hand out in front of herself but let it fall. “I don’t know yet if I’m contagious, so you should both probably stay back just in case.”
Henry plucked the pregnancy test from the tray and showed it off between two fingers. “I doubt Jay and I are in any danger of catching this bug, for all that we helped cause it.”
Weeks ago. Jay’s birthday celebration? Or their weekend at the cabin, that time on the deck with the sun-warmed picnic blanket below them as the night shift unrolled an ocean of stars above them. Could’ve been any old night, though, or any long weekend morning, or the exciting weekdays when Alice woke him with whispers of how she’d reward him for joining her shower.
Alice, nodding, stroked her stomach in slow circles. “I was wondering. But so fast, you know?”
The heart-pounding uncertainty swung in Jay’s chest, too, an old-timey clock pendulum ticking off the space between this is the best thing we’ve ever done and what if we fuck it up . They’d worked so hard to be ready. Henry and Alice had only lately tapered off their therapy stuff. Jay met with Danny every two weeks. They spent a weekend at Mom’s in Maine every couple of months, and Henry’s brother and his family came to those Sunday suppers. Alice and Ollie and their mom kept each other steady and confident while her dad made his third run at detoxing. Ninety-three days so far—might stick this time. And okay, Jay wasn’t speaking to Peggy or Mom or Dad, but holding that line made his head a healthier place. His relationships with Nat and Kevin had never been stronger. That he’d been able to return the favor and stand up for Nat—
“Second thoughts, sweet girl?” Henry sat on the bed beside Alice and squeezed her through the sheet. “A bit of cold feet?”
Pedaling her feet in place against the mattress, Alice bared her teeth in a fierce grin. The mama bear thing would come real naturally to her.
“Not that. I just want to get this right.” She slumped boneless to the pillow and puffed hair off her cheek. Gazing past Henry at Jay, she grew the wry twist in her lips that made him want to kiss away doubt every time. “I hear that old-me voice insisting on being perfect so nothing bad can ever touch our kid.”
Jay matched her lip curl and mimed a shrug, careful not to upset the tray. “Henry’s got a fantastic speech about that, if you wanna make him two for two in the dom wisdom department this morning.”
She softened into a giggle. “You too, huh?”
“Ayup.” The tray fit neatly in front of the alarm clock and lamp; he nudged the crackers toward her. “We gotta get all those worries out in the air while the unknowns are still unknowns, right? ’Cause if they were knowns, we’d be a mile down the solutions trail already.”
Alice closed her hand over Henry’s on the test kit. She breathed out slow, their gazes aligned. “Whatever this says, I’m staying home from work today.”
Henry brushed his thumb against the base of her throat. “I will be delighted for your company. Perhaps with an adornment heavier than your day collar here, hmm?”
Collars and cuffs had counted as fully dressed for most of the weekend. Tomorrow might be a good night to condition the leather, if Henry didn’t have other plans. Their collars and cuffs, Jay’s harness and leash—he poured his devotion into care and maintenance, and Henry and Alice paid it back a hundred times over.
“Mm-hmm.” Alice lifted her chin, and Henry spread his hand lightly across her throat and teased her earlobe. “I was thinking that, too.” She slipped the test kit out of Henry’s grasp, shivered, and winked at Jay. “So only a mile? Not five or six?”
“Don’t wanna go too fast.” Stepping back, Jay offered his hands to steady her slide off the bed. “Might upset your little bug.”
Snickering, Alice let him escort her to the bathroom. “Kid’s not even for certain yet, and we’ve already got a nickname.”
Jay bowed deeply, nabbing the door handle on his downward sweep. “I’ll give you and Bug your privacy.”
He paced, and Henry let him. They could be parents any minute now. The baby would get here when it got here, but today, right now, lines on a test strip would make them parents or not. Henry and Alice had rejected his offer to use condoms or stick to oral, so they wouldn’t know the kid’s genetics today. But he’d be a dad. Not Uncle Jay, as fun as that was—hosting Kevin’s and Robert’s boys for a weekend together might’ve been the wildest two days they’d had all last year, and that was saying something—but Dad. Daddy. Some chubby little hands and round face with big eyes would be looking to him for answers and safety and love.
“How long does the test take?” He passed Henry without stopping, his heart thumping triple-time on each step.
“Three minutes or so, once it begins.” Henry, tracking Jay with his eyes, sat patiently on the bed with his hands folded in his lap and a fond smile flickering on his lips.
“How long’s it been?”
Henry tipped his wrist toward his chest and glanced down. “Approximately 45 seconds, I’d say.”
It wasn’t like Alice had to get undressed. She was already naked. How long could—
The bathroom door opened.
Jay stopped so fast he practically pinwheeled like a cartoon coyote about to pitch over a cliff. “So?”
“So now we wait.”
Now? What had he been doing for the last seven thousand hours while she’d been in there?
Alice sauntered up to him, her hips swaying, and pressed her hand against his chest. “Count for me, stud. Out loud, please. Count to sixty, then start again. Three times.”
He counted. She steered him backward to the bed, and his thoughts couldn’t pinball, because he had to keep the count. A fingertip push had him sitting, and polite commands had him passing over the teacup and holding the crackers. Alice sipped and nibbled; he counted. Henry’s smile grew.
“Fifty-nine, sixty.” First thing, he should— “One, two, three…”
Alice and Henry chatted, background noise, the lullaby on nights when he’d worn himself out and tumbled into dreams before them. His heart slowed, matching his count, then surged again as he tapped in time with his feet. Alice passed him back the teacup, half full, and he returned it and the crackers to the nightstand.
“Sixty.” The third one. The test would know the answer by now.
Alice splayed her hands over her stomach. She licked her lips. “Go find out for us, Jay.”
He dashed. This had to be an exception to the no-running-in-the-house rule. He skidded up to the counter and bent over the fortune-telling stick.
The lines decided it.
His knees shook. His breath whooshed out like he’d gotten clocked with an elbow under the ribs on the basketball court. He took one step toward the door and then another, his legs firming under him.
Henry had added a hand to Alice’s, the two of them snugged beside each other and raising their faces to him. His dominants. His spouses. Hanging on his every word, giving up control and letting him deliver the news. His fellow parents.
His smile stretched so far it hurt. “That little bug’s gonna have massive symptoms, Alice. Good thing you’re sitting down. We’re talking 2 a.m. feedings—”
A laugh bubbled out of her.
“and round-the-clock diaper changes—”
Tears followed, her face raining while the sun shined. Henry pressed his head to hers, forehead to temple, and dotted her with kisses.
“and preschool admissions waitlists—”
“My sweet girl.” Gravel in his voice, Henry rumbled as he wrapped his arms around their wife. “You are a marvel. A wonder.”
“and a driver’s license—”
“Enough, enough.” Alice waved for him, her cheeks round and her teeth gleaming. “Get over here and kiss me while you can, stud. We’ll be awfully busy for the next, uhh, oh, right, forever .”
He play-crashed light as a feather beside her and added his arms to Henry’s. Flowers would be the thing to do. Flowers on his way home to celebrate their little bug. The shop around the corner had those enormous star-shaped ones with the deep pink centers that Henry liked. Lilies. He’d pick up a bouquet of lilies. And maybe some paint. “Should we start on the nursery tonight?”
“Tomorrow,” Henry murmured. “Tonight, we celebrate what our love has brought us.”
The whole world, that was all. Just everything in his life worth having.
Not ready for the trio’s story to be over? Catch up with Henry, Alice, and Jay—and their family—ten years down the road in a special bonus epilogue. Download Christmas in Maine and start reading!