Chapter 32
Gail
T he 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.
“Let’s find out where we stand,” she says, and flips open the folder.
The air is thick, each breath I take laden with the weight of impending revelations. Dr. Patel’s eyes don’t waver as she scans the document, and the world narrows down to the crisp sound of paper against paper.
“Mr. Davis,” she says at last, her voice a grounding force in the maelstrom of silent tension, “you are the father.”
A stunned gasp escapes me, my hand flying to my mouth as if to catch the words that flutter inside like caged birds longing for freedom. Relief floods through me—a warm, soothing tide that washes away the jagged edges of uncertainty.
“Fuck me sideways,” Mickey murmurs next to me, a rare vulnerability flickering across his silver gaze. He looks as if he’s been body-checked into the boards, the impact leaving him dazed but gloriously alive. With a shaky exhale, he leans down and presses his lips to my forehead, a silent promise etched in the tenderness of the gesture.
A rare smile softens Soren’s usually harsh features, his green eyes hold a spark of something akin to pride, and it strikes me how this revelation weaves us even tighter together—three souls knotted in a complex pattern of need and desire.
“Looks like I’m an honorary uncle then,” Soren rumbles, his voice a timbre of contentment that vibrates through the room. He clasps Mickey’s shoulder in a brotherly grip, solidifying our strange but perfect family unit.
“The hell you are,” both Mickey and I retort.
Clearing my throat, I pin Soren with a glance. “No! You’re also Fet’s dad.”
“Absolutely,” Mickey agrees. “The three of us are Fet’s parents. Don’t go changing that now.”
My heart feels like it could burst right now. I’ve been so worried; first about the test maybe somehow glitching, showing neither Mickey nor Soren as the dad. Then I was scared what would happen if it was Mickey, but as I sit here now, there’s no denying the rightness of how everything has unfurled.
Perhaps it’s my imagination, but Dr. Patel’s attitude feels different now that we have the result; kinder, somehow. And there’s no judgment in her eyes as she glances at me, only looking away as she writes something on her laptop.
“Are you ready for the ultrasound scan?” she asks once she’s done, and I nod, following her to the examination table, where I immediately lie down. “Would you like to know the baby’s sex?”
I exchange a charged glance with Mickey and Soren, our private conversation from earlier echoing silently between us. “Yes,” we answer in unison, a chorus of longing that resonates in the sterile room.
The ultrasound wand moves in slow, deliberate motions across my now gel-slicked skin, and my heart races in tandem with the sweep of the device. The image on the screen is a blur of shadows and light, but it holds the definitive answer to our shared future—a crescendo of curiosity that hums louder with each passing second.
“Alright,” Dr. Patel announces, her tone businesslike but not without empathy. “Let’s see if the baby is ready to reveal its secret.”
The tension is palpable, a living entity that wraps around us, binding us together in the shared silence. My gaze is locked on the monitor, willing the indistinct shape to morph into something recognizable, something definitive.
“Come on, little one,” I whisper under my breath, as though coaxing a shy creature from its hiding spot. The drumming of my own heartbeat drowns out everything else—it’s just me, the baby, and the two men who have come to mean more to me than I could ever articulate.
In the static of black and white pixels, a form begins to take shape, and we lean forward, a triad of eager expectation. Dr. Patel’s hands are steady, sure as she manipulates the controls, honing in on the precious life nestled within me.
“Any moment now…” Her voice trails off, allowing the suspense to build further, coiling tight around my spine. I can feel Mickey’s sharp intake of breath, Soren’s fingers digging slightly into my flesh—both of them as lost in this fragment of time as I am.
And then, the world narrows down to a single point of clarity on the screen; the revelation dawning bright and unmistakable. The truth of Fet illuminated before us, a beacon that guides us into uncharted territory.
“See that?” Dr. Patel points, and a thrill shoots through me, electric and raw. “Congratulations, you’re having a girl.”
A tidal wave of joy crashes over me, so fierce it threatens to capsize my composure. “A girl,” I whisper, awe coloring every syllable. In that heartbeat, visions of pink onesies, tea parties, and a future fierce as her dads flashes before my eyes. I—we—are having a daughter.
I turn toward Mickey, his silver eyes shimmering like the surface of a lake at dawn, reflecting a world of possibilities. His lips part in a stunned smile, a rare vulnerability peeking through his usual cocky demeanor. “We’ve got a little princess on the way, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a reverence that wraps around me like a warm blanket.
Soren stands to my other side, his green eyes—usually stormy seas—now calm harbors of happiness. He nods, a silent agreement resonating between us. The man who commands the ice with an iron will is rendered speechless by the gentle flutter of life within me. “Our girl,” he finally manages, the words rough with emotion, and I can see the silent promise in his gaze to protect her, just as fiercely as he protects the net.
The dam breaks then, and tears spill down my cheeks, each one a testament to the love and hope living within me. I reach out, taking their hands in mine, intertwining our fingers, our lives inexorably linked.
“Thank you, Dr. Patel,” I say, my voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. My heart is a drumline, pounding out a rhythm of new beginnings. I’m awash with gratitude for this tiny miracle, this gift we’ve been given. It’s a spark, igniting the tinder of our joined souls, fusing us together even more deeply than before.
“Let’s take care of our girl,” Mickey whispers, leaning in to press a tender kiss to my tear-streaked cheek.
“Always,” Soren vows, his thumb brushing away the wetness from my other cheek, his touch as grounding as the earth itself.
We are a trio, bound by love for Fet, lust for each other, and now a legacy—a little girl who will learn the strength of her dads’ arms and the resilience of her mother’s heart. “We need a name,” I hiccup as I realize how wrong ‘Fet’ sounds now that I know I’m having a baby girl.
Soren grins at me. “No more Fet?” he asks.
Shaking my head, I try to explain how wrong it sounds, even in my own head. But before I can make my point, Mickey leans closer. “I like ‘Fet’,” he clarifies. “It’s unique.”
Dr. Patel finishes the scan, assuring us that Fet is as healthy as can be. “Your baby looks to be around two-point-seven inches long, which is good. Have you felt her move around?”
“No,” I gasp, surprised that’s even a possibility this early. While I wipe my stomach clean, I say, “I didn’t think I’d feel anything until much later in the pregnancy.”
Nodding, Dr. Patel clarifies, “Some women notice it around thirteen weeks. Though, it might only be small flutters.”
Thinking back over the past few days, I try to recall having felt anything that resembles what she’s describing, but nothing comes to mind. I’m kinda glad, because I’d hate to have missed the first movement.
The door creaks open, and the unexpected sight of Cupid’s Court’s owner struts into Dr. Patel’s office like a cat with secrets to spill. My heart, still fluttering from the news of our daughter, drops into my stomach. He’s got that look—the one that says he’s here to shake up my already turbulent world.
“I came as soon as I heard,” he begins, his voice smooth as velvet, “congratulations are in order. And with such good news comes freedom. The paternity results prove there was no breach of contract. You’re no longer bound to Mickey and Soren. You’re free to do what you want.”
His words hang in the air, heavy and foreign. Freedom? I glance at Mickey and Soren, their faces a mix of confusion and dawning realization. There’s relief there, sure. A chance to step into the light, out of the shadows of this double-edged arrangement. But it’s laced with a bittersweet tang that clings to my tongue.
“Free?” I echo, the word tasting strange. Part of me—a fiery, independent ember—flares up at the thought. No more being controlled and told when to check in or where I can go. I can breathe freely, knowing that everyone now knows what I’ve claimed all along; I didn’t lie.
But another part, a deeper, darker craving, recoils. Free from them… what exactly does that look like? Will I no longer experience their commanding presence that sends shivers down my spine and ignites a passion I never knew I possessed? From Mickey’s tender caresses that soothe the sting of Soren’s deliciously rough grip? Oh, the thought alone is unbearable.
“To some extent, yes. You’re not allowed to accept any bookings at Cupid’s Court until you’re cleared after giving birth, and the contract prohibits you from having sexual relations with anyone but the biological dad—”
“The hell?” Soren growls, clearly irked by this.
A chuckle bursts from the owner. “In this case, we’ll extend that clause so it also includes Mr. Taylor as he’s part of your arrangement. But no one else.”
I suppose that makes sense, and even if it didn’t, I don’t care. It’s not like I want to go screw random men. “Thank you,” I croak, caught between relief and sadness now.
With a nod, the owner slips out again, leaving the three of us entwined in a future unwritten. My heart pounds a fierce rhythm, echoing the possibilities that stretch out before us.
Leaving the medical building, I get into the front passenger seat in Soren’s car. Since my morning sickness—or as I call it now; random-as-fuck sickness—rears its acidic head whenever, I feel better sitting up here. Mickey gets in the back, barely managing to buckle the seatbelt before Soren starts the car.
Knowing it’s time, I pull my phone out of my pocket and start a group chat with Luce and Jamie, shooting a picture of the new one of Fet we got from Dr. Patel.
Me: Say hello to little miss perfect 3
I attach the image and hit send.
Luce: OMGOMGOMG!!! Congrats!!!!
Luce: I’m so ready to spoil her rotten 3 3 3
Jamie: Yesss! I can already tell she’s going to be a beauty. I think she has my nose.
Luce: And my chin!
Me: Whatever you say, Auntie Luce and Uncle Jamie.
Soren’s house looms ahead, grand and imposing, just like him. As we pull into the driveway, he turns to me, green eyes earnest. “Gail, you know you don’t have to leave, right? You could stay with us.”
“Stay?” The word hangs between us, a delicate thread in the tapestry we’ve woven—a tapestry of skin and sweat, whispers and moans. Mickey’s silver gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror, silently urging me to consider the offer.
“Maybe.” The possibility stretches out before us, as wide and as open as the sky above. But decisions like this aren’t made in the space between heartbeats—they need time, consideration.
As we cross the threshold, I leave behind the vestiges of uncertainty, for now, choosing instead the heat of their gazes, the strength of their arms, and the wild beat of my heart that sings a song of smutty, unadulterated joy. Whatever tomorrow holds, tonight, I am theirs, and they are mine—completely.