Epilogue - Carina
Two Years Later…
"If you tell me to breathe one more time, William Montclair, I swear to God I will use this IV pole as a weapon."
William's hands pause in their nervous adjustment of the hospital bed controls. "I was just trying to—"
"Take charge. I know. But guess what? This baby is coming whether you've optimized the bed angle or not." Another contraction hits and I grab Travis's hand, squeezing hard enough that he winces. "Oh god, why did we do this?"
"Because we wanted a family," Travis says calmly, though I can see him trying not to react to my death grip. "Remember? You said—"
"I was clearly insane. Who thinks having a baby with three fathers is a good idea? The paperwork alone—" The contraction peaks and I lose the ability to form words, just groan through it.
"Looking strong, babe! And so beautiful," Knox chirps from behind his phone camera. "Really capturing the miracle of life here."
"Knox, I swear if that phone doesn't disappear in the next five seconds—"
"But we need to document everything! Little nugget's going to want to see—"
"The little nugget is going to be an only child if you don't PUT THE PHONE DOWN!"
The door opens and my savior appears in the form of Nurse Schmidt, who's been handling us—all four of us—with remarkable patience for the past six hours in this lovely Swiss hospital that I would like to escape from as soon as possible.
"How are we doing?" she asks, checking the monitors.
"Carina's threatening violence, Will's trying to feng shui the medical equipment, and Knox won't stop filming," Travis reports. "Just another day."
"I see." She turns to William with the kind of stern look that would make board members cower. "Mr. Montclair, step away from the bed controls. The bed is fine."
"But if we adjust the angle—"
"The bed. Is. Fine." She waits until he backs away, hands raised in surrender. "And you," she points at Knox, "phone goes in the bag until after delivery or it goes in the hazardous waste bin. Your choice."
"But—"
"Hazardous. Waste. Bin."
Knox deflates but obediently puts the camera away. "You're all going to regret this when we don't have footage of—"
Another contraction cuts him off as I let out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.
"That's it," Nurse Schmidt says approvingly. "Let it out. We're at eight centimeters, so things are going to intensify very quickly."
"Intensify?" I gasp. "How can they possibly intensify?"
"Trust me, honey. You're doing great and it’s all going to be fine." She pats my arm. "Gentlemen, make yourselves useful. Ice chips, lower back massage, and for the love of God, someone distract her between contractions."
They spring into action like a well-oiled machine.
Travis is immediately at my lower back, his strong hands working the knots that have formed there.
Knox raids the ice chip supply like he's on a mission from God.
And William... William takes my hand, careful of the IV, and starts telling me about the nursery.
"The mural's finally done," he says softly. "Knox outdid himself. It's this whole Swiss Alps scene, but with hidden details. There's a tiny chef's hat on the top of one of the mountains. Sugar cookies in the clouds. A massage table by the lake—"
"Subtle," I laugh despite everything. The guys haven’t let me go into the chalet nursery in weeks. They wanted all the last-minute touches to be a surprise for me.
"And the crib finally arrived two days ago. The one you fell in love with at the shop in Zurich. I know we agreed on the other one, but—"
"You bought it anyway." It's not a question. William's been nesting harder than I have, turning the nursery into something out of a magazine, I’m sure. "Of course you did."
"I wanted everything perfect for him."
Him. Our son. We've known for months but it still feels surreal.
After the drama of figuring out paternity—Travis, as it turned out, though we all agreed it didn't matter—everything else fell into place.
The wedding—unconventional but legal, with Travis as my official husband and William and Knox as permanently committed partners.
The decision to split time between the States and Switzerland.
The alterations to the chalet because everyone agrees we want more children in the future and we need more rooms, while still honoring the architectural integrity.
"Tell me again about what you guys are thinking about for the name," I say, needing distraction as another contraction builds.
Knox jumps in, always ready with this story. "So Will has this prophetic dream on Christmas morning two years ago—"
"It wasn't prophetic," William protests.
"Totally prophetic. Dreams about us in the hospital having a baby boy, and Carina names him Nicholas. And now here we are, in a hospital, having a baby boy—"
"Breathe," Travis reminds me as the contraction hits.
"I am breathing!" I snap, then immediately feel bad. "Sorry. I love you. But also shut up about breathing."
"Fair enough," he says, and continues with the back massage.
"Anyway," Knox continues once I can focus again, "we figured if Will's subconscious already named the kid, who are we to argue?"
"That's not—" William starts.
"Plus Nicholas means victory," Travis adds. "And this little guy is definitely our victory. Over everything that tried to keep us apart."
I gasp as another contraction starts building already. "Oh god, they're getting closer."
Nurse Schmidt appears as if summoned. "Let me check... yes, we're at nine and a half. Nearly there. I'm going to get Dr. Jackson."
"Nearly there," I repeat, suddenly panicked. "I'm not ready. What if I'm a terrible mother? What if I can't—"
"Hey." William's voice cuts through my spiral. "Look at me."
I do, finding those gray eyes that still make my heart skip a beat after two years.
"You're going to be an incredible mother," he says firmly. "You already are. Do you know how much this baby is already loved? How many people are waiting to meet him?"
"Will's right," Travis adds. "My parents have called six times today. Knox's art friends have already started buying him little art kits. Even Klaus sent a gift."
"Klaus sent cheese," Knox corrects. "For a newborn. I'm not sure he understands how babies work."
I laugh despite everything, then groan as the contraction peaks. "I need to push. Where's the doctor?"
"Right here," Dr. Jackson says, sweeping in with a team. "Heard we're ready to meet someone special."
The next few minutes flash before my eyes. Nurses positioning equipment, the doctor checking progress, my men taking their assigned positions—Travis by my head, William and Knox on either side.
"Okay, Carina," Dr. Jackson says. "On the next contraction, I want you to push."
"We're really doing this," I breathe.
"We're really doing this," William confirms, kissing my forehead. "I love you. Have I mentioned that today?"
"Only about fifty times," I manage.
"Not nearly enough then. I love you. You're incredible. Thank you for going through this."
"We all love you," Knox adds, uncharacteristically serious. "So fucking much."
"Language," Travis says automatically. "There's a baby coming."
"The baby can't hear—"
"PUSH!" Dr. Jackson interrupts.
I push. And push. And push. Time becomes meaningless, marked only by contractions and the encouragement of my partners. William counting to ten with each push. Knox providing colorful commentary that makes the nurses blush. Travis steady and calm, reminding me to rest between efforts.
"I can't," I gasp at one point. "It's too hard. I can't—"
"You can," all three say in unison.
"You're the strongest person we know," William says.
"And you're almost there," Travis promises. "One more big push."
"I see the head!" Dr. Jackson announces. "Lots of dark hair. Come on, Carina. Let's meet this little boy."
One more push. One more impossible, incredible push.
And then—
A cry. Loud and indignant and absolutely perfect.
"It's a boy!" Dr. Jackson confirms. "A beautiful boy with very healthy lungs."
They place him on my chest and the world stops. He's tiny and red and squished-looking and absolutely the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. His eyes are scrunched shut, his little fists waving in protest at being evicted from his warm home.
"Oh," I breathe. "Oh, look at you."
"He's perfect," William says, voice rough with emotion. His hand hovers over the baby like he's afraid to touch. "Carina, he's—"
"Our son," I finish. "Nicholas."
"Nicholas, buddy… you made it," Travis says, wonder in his voice.
"Little Nicky!" Knox crows, then catches our looks. "What? He needs a nickname."
"No, he doesn't," William says firmly.
"Every kid needs a nickname. Right, Nicky? Tell your dads you want a cool nickname."
Nicholas apparently has strong opinions about this because he lets out another cry.
"See? He agrees with Uncle Knox."
"We're all dads," Travis corrects. "We agreed on that."
"Yeah, but I'm the fun dad. Will's the overprotective dad. You're the practical dad."
"And what does that make me?" I ask, watching in amazement as Nicholas starts rooting around, instinct already kicking in.
"The badass mom who just pushed a human out of her body," Knox says reverently. "Seriously, Carina. That was intense. I'm scarred for life, but in an impressed way."
"Would you like to cut the cord?" Dr. Jackson asks, looking between the three men.
They exchange glances, having one of their wordless conversations.
"Travis should," William says finally. "He's the biological father."
"We all are," Travis insists. "Biology's just paperwork."
"Then you should all participate," Dr. Jackson says with a smile. She's been amazing through this whole unconventional process. "Three dads, three clamps. Everyone helps."
And so they do, the three of them together cutting the cord that connected Nicholas to me. It's symbolic and perfect and I'm definitely crying.
"Okay, I need my phone now," Knox says. "This is the good stuff."
"Knox—" William starts.