by Angel Lawson
“A little too formal,” I said. “It is a gym, after all.”
“A gym with celebrities.”
“Some that I work with. I’m not quite that star-struck anymore.”
“Well I am.” She held up a black dress with gold edging. “You think the black will make me look skinnier?”
“You are skinny—you mean not pregnant? With all the effort that went into getting you knocked up, why would you hide it?”
“True. Ginger thinks my belly is sexy. She can’t keep her hands off of it.”
I flipped through the dresses and pulled out one that was tight-fitting. “Then try this one. You can walk around all night belly-cupping that tiny bump of yours.”
She took it from me and hung it over her arm. “Ohhh, check out this one. It has Heaven written all over it.”
I took the dress from her. It was a pale pink with a plunging V down the front—tiny jewels and sequins lined the bodice and it was fitted to the hem just above the knees. “I’m not sure I have the boobs to pull this off.”
Amber cupped her own boobs obscured under her hoodie. “You know that’s one of the odd perks of pregnancy—bigger boobs. Just go try it. I think you can pull it off.”
We both headed into different dressing rooms and reemerge a few moments later. Amber was right, the dress did look good and my boobs held up the top better than I expected.
When I looked at her, I felt my eyes widen.
“What?” she asked, checking out her backside in the mirror.
“Holy shit, your tits are massive.”
“I told you!” Again, she held them. I mean, I knew she said they were bigger, but under the hoodie I couldn’t tell. They were big. Really big.
“I have a feeling it’s not your tiny belly Ginger is into, just saying.”
“It’s the weirdest feeling. And I don’t even want to know what happens later—when I’m nursing.”
“Nope. Me either.”
She looked me over. “Well you look smokin’ in that dress. The guys will love it.”
“Ginger will love that one, too. And well, probably everyone else that’s into boobs, because holy shit.” I couldn’t help myself. They were perfect, round, and frankly a little magical.
“I’ll take what I can get.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon shopping and getting our nails done—girly things that help me feel a little more normal. In my panic over her pregnancy and my own decisions, I’d forgotten how much fun Amber and I had together. I determined that more than anything else, I was glad my friend was home.
“Movie or TV show?” Anderson asked, holding the remote to the television. I’d just turned off the light and settled back on the couch.
“Everyone at work is talking about this super cute movie that’s kind of like Sixteen Candles but modernized.”
He raised his eyebrows in question.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen Sixteen Candles.”
“When did it come out?”
“I don’t know, like 1984. My mom made me watch it with her. It’s a classic.”
“Yeah, no chance I’ve seen that.”
“Well, then that’s what we should watch for sure—after we watch the new one.” I was in the mood for some sweet, uncomplicated, teen romance. I grabbed the remote from him and flipped through the options, while Anderson settled next to me on the couch. Tomorrow night we had the party and the other guys were at the gym going over final details. Anderson and I had decided on an evening of Netflix and chill, now that I was finally feeling human again.
We sat close on the couch, snuggled beneath a blanket, with a bowl of popcorn in my lap. The movie was adorable—the boy and girl both ridiculously cute. After their first kiss, a jumbled-up moment of desperation, I turned to Anderson and said, “That’s almost like when I kissed you in the library that day.”
“That was a good kiss. Too bad I acted like a dick afterwards.”
“I wasn’t playing fair. You didn’t know the truth—just like that boy in the story didn’t know everything going on with the girl.” I gestured to the screen—frozen on pause. “Once I did, we were able to work past it.”
“Are you seriously trying to equate our life to a teen movie?” There was an amused smile on his face.
“Our whole relationship has been like a crazy movie, don’t you think?”
He slipped an arm around my shoulder. “Only if that movie went from PG to R to XXX.”
“We are not triple X.”
He snorted. “Who said our story is over?”
He reached for me, pulling me close enough to kiss. His lips tasted buttery, like popcorn. He’d just pushed a hand into my hair when there was a cough from the doorway and a small knock. We both looked up. Jackson waited with an apologetic expression and a tray of food in his hands.
Anderson pulled away and adjusted his jeans.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the caterer left some samples and I thought you may want some.” He crossed the room and laid the food on the ottoman. It was quite the spread. Fruit and cheese. Strawberries with chocolate and a mound of whipped cream. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
I glanced at Anderson, who gave me a quick nod. “Jackson—stay. Watch the rest of the movie with us and share in the food.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Yep,” Anderson said, shifting over and pulling me along with him. Jackson kicked off his shoes and sat next to me, dragging the blanket over his lap. I was snug between the two of them.
“So, what are we watching?” he asked.
I dipped a spoon in the cream.
“Heaven’s enlightening me on the glory of teen movies and how our relationship, particularly in high school, was like one.”
I took a lick of the cream and said, “Totally. Jackson was the handsome, popular jock that should have been a jerk but was really sweet.”
He smiled at me, eyes darting down to my mouth, watching me clean off the spoon.
“Hey, what about me? I was a loveable jock,” Anderson said. Jackson and I burst into laughter and Anderson grew defensive. “I was!”
“You were a sarcastic and stubborn jock. You made me crazy.”
“He made us all crazy,” Jackson added, plucking another strawberry off the plate and scooping up a dollop of cream on the tip. “But to be fair, babe, you made us the most crazy.”
“Try this.” He held the plump, bright-red strawberry up to my mouth. I took a bite, cream covering my lips. I was about to lick it off when Jax leaned over and did it for me. Anderson’s hand that was on my leg under the blanket, tensed. “Delicious, right?”
“Very much so. Sweet.” I leaned into Anderson’s side, eyeing Jax. “What do you mean, I made you crazy?”
“Back then? God, it was those short skirts.”
“Damn, those skirts,” Anderson muttered.
“And tight blouses.”
“That white one. The one she tied at the waist.”
Jackson looked over my head. “Do you remember those boots?”
“The thigh highs?” He laughed and I felt it against my back as it rumbled in his chest. “I had dreams about those boots.”
“Stop. You know I did all that to get a rise out of everyone.”
“Oh, you got a rise out of everyone all right. Why do you think we got so protective?” Jackson replied, going for another strawberry and more cream. “I used to go home and think about what you wore, how sexy you were.”
“I’d sit in my desk in class and try to will my boner away,” Anderson admitted. I turned to face him. His cheeks were red but he shrugged. “I had to work twice as hard in the classes you had with me because I could barely pay attention with you sitting there. You smelled so good.” He sniffed my hair. “And looked ridiculously hot. Sometimes you’d bend over, giving me a peek of your cleavage, and I’d have to recite the alphabet backwards to calm myself down.”
“You did not.”
“Oh, hell yeah I did.”
/> Jackson nodded, popping the strawberry in his mouth. A tiny bit of cream remained on his lip and I had the unmistakable urge to lick it off like he’d done with me. His blue eyes watched me closely as I leaned over and gently sucked off the cream. His hands moved to my hips and he pulled me in for more. I sank into his kiss, fueled by their stories of high school boners and unwavering affection. Anderson ran a hand up and down my calf, creeping up my thigh. The twist of arousal churned in my belly.
I turned back to the tray and dipped my fingers in the cream. I brought them to my lips, smearing the sweetness across. Both boys leaned over and cleaned me up. It was, as Jax said, delicious and really, really hot. We normally spent our intimate times alone, but occasionally the stars aligned for something more spontaneous. Something more freeing.
The movie forgotten, each one of us thoroughly sunk into the moment. I felt their hands, their breath, tasted the sweetness between our lips. I felt the heat of Anderson on one side and Jackson on the other. My rocks. My loves.
Unlike the girl on screen, I didn’t have to pick between the boys I loved. I chose them all, and they chose me, and as we bared our bodies and our souls to one another once again, that bond only solidified.
23
Heaven
It was always weird returning to my mother’s house. I always felt caught in a limbo between the white clapboard structure being my home and now being a guest. I had a lot of firsts in this place. Good and bad. The good was really good; my first few dates with the guys. Dry-humping with Jackson on the front steps. Making love to Oliver on my single bed upstairs. The bad was the opposite side of the pendulum. My depression and anxiety. The cutting in the bathroom. The realization that I was being watched over my laptop. Reuniting with my father after his years away.
Then there was my mother.
We’d had our ups and downs over the years. In many ways she was supportive—sending me to therapists and doctors. Helping with my meds. But she also had an unhealthy relationship with my father that lasted for far too long. When she’d stuck by his side, through all his conniving and maliciousness, I had to let her go. Eventually she saw the truth behind his lies and slowly we’ve been rebuilding our relationship.
When it came to me and the Allendale Four, she was hesitantly supportive. She knew the guys cared for me but she also didn’t think our alternative lifestyle was sustainable. There were times when I let her nagging thoughts get to me, but not recently, because things had been so good.
“So the grand opening of the new gym is tonight?” she asked, pouring milk into her tea. “Sorry I can’t come—we’re short-handed at work.”
“I think it will be a lot of fun. It’s super-VIP with a bunch of celebrities. Fingers crossed that the citizens of Oceanside manages to keep their bigotry on hold for a night.”
My mother snorted, knowing fully well how awful they were. I continued, “I think the new city council person has shut down a lot of the hatred now that tourism is up. There’s just no room in the economy for that kind of closed-mindedness.”
“Who knew Oceanside would change their ways?” My mother was clearly thinking about how we’d had to pack up and move after my father left. “But I’m glad the boys are capitalizing on it.”
“I was a little nervous at first but there were no problems.” I pressed my fingers against my too-hot tea. “I guess people can change.”
“So, speaking of change,” I said, “this isn’t wide spread yet but Amber said it was okay to tell you—she and Ginger are having a baby.”
Mom’s eyes opened wide. “A baby! Wait—who’s carrying it?”
“Amber. It’s really early, though. Like it’s barely even a thing.”
“A thing?” She shook her head and took a sip of her tea. “It’s a baby, Heaven. Trust me, it’s a thing right from the start. A big thing. Wow. Lesbians having babies. The modern world is interesting.”
“Lesbians have been having babies for a long time, Mom.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Sure it is. First of all, it’s very intentional. It’s not like one of them can claim it was an accident or a surprise. They had to put effort into that baby.” She smiled. “That means they really want it. Good for them.”
I was a little surprised by my mom’s attitude. I kind of thought she’d be a little more judgey. I mean, that may have been why I came over here.
“So you’re okay with it? You don’t think they’re too young or it’s too soon since they got married?”
“It’s a personal decision. No one can make it but them.” She frowned. “Why? Do you?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I’m happy for them, but I guess it’s just a big change.”
She smiled at me sympathetically. “It is, and I know it feels like you may be losing a friend, but you won’t. She’s going to need you and I suspect this baby will end up being good for you, too.”
“Why would you say that?”
She dipped her teabag in and out of the water. “Well obviously you’re not having kids any time soon—if ever—this way you can be an amazing aunt or godmother.”
My mother had just said exactly what I felt. Exactly. Yet when I heard the words coming from her mouth, I felt a sharp twist of anger and offense in my chest. “What do you mean ‘obviously’?”
“Heaven,” she said, giving me an amused look, “you’re not serious.”
“Of course, I’m serious. What do you mean?”
She blinked at me, obviously trying to gauge my reaction. “I can get behind the mechanics and science of two women having a child together. Two married women in a stable, committed relationship. But, sweetheart, no matter how much you love those boys and no matter how devoted they are to you, that is not the kind of relationship you’re in.”
It was one thing to know something in your heart. It was another to hear them said out loud, especially from your mother. “You don’t think we could build a family.”
“For you and your dog, sure. With a child? That’s insanity.”
I felt the bile of anger rising in my throat. “Why? Exactly why would it be so crazy to have a child in a family with four loving fathers? Because I had a traditional one-dad kind of family and look how that turned out.”
She turned, her face serious. “I don’t know, Heaven, tell me how it would work? Would you pick one of the boys for a father? Which one? Do you want the swimmer or the soccer player? The businessman or the charmer? Do you think they won’t care? That they’ll willingly give up their right to have a biological child with you for one of the others? That is not how men work.”
“Stop,” I said.
“Or do you just throw caution and birth control to the wind and allow whichever one has the fastest, strongest swimmers take the role of bio dad? Is that how it works?”
“Mom. Stop.” My hands clenched with rage. Fear.
She sighed and her expression softened. “I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m trying to be honest. There is no way this is going to work for you. Even if you all think it will, it won’t. There will be jealousy and territorialism. There will be confusion and hurt feelings. You’re right, look at all the problems I had with one man in my life while raising you.” She threw up her hands. “Do not go down this path. I’m begging you.”
All the fears and mixed emotions welled up at once, knocking me off my feet. I fell back in my seat and cried, the stress and strain pouring out of me.
“Oh, honey,” my mother said, walking over to put her arm around me. I let her. I knew she meant well and I knew her words held truth. I knew it in my heart. and that was one of the reasons I’d told them I didn’t want kids yet, they’d made it clear they were okay with whatever decision I made. Maybe that was really why. Maybe they knew it was a bad idea, too.
Maybe we were all just sacrificing for one another, like we’d always had.
“I know this is hard for you,” she said, with a look of empathy only a mother could give. “But it’s better for you all to work
it out now.”
I wiped my tears away and reached for the warm mug of tea, hands still shaking. I didn’t tell her that we’d already talked about it and that decisions had been made and that I was the one that initiated it. There was something in the moment that pushed me back to my younger self—how dare someone tell me I couldn’t have a child if I wanted. It was like those who said my relationship with the guys was wrong—twisted—perverted.
They didn’t understand me and my family.
They didn’t understand how we worked.
They didn’t understand our love.
And for the first time, I realized that maybe I’d been wrong to let the fear dictate my decisions. At this point, though, it may be too late.
24
Heaven
“You about ready?” Hayden called from the hallway. I was in the bathroom getting ready for the party.
“Yeah, five minutes.” I was already running late because of last-minute panic over the fact that my dress felt too snug against my body—particularly my hips. I had to get Jackson to zip me up (which provided its own challenges.)
“I look like a cow,” I’d said, overdramatically.
“You look gorgeous.” His eyes were glued to my breasts, which were the only thing that looked better with a little bloat.
It was so fucking typical to get my period around a party like this. Not that I had it yet. I’d been waiting for days, dealing with the bullshit symptoms of PMS. My boobs ached, my stomach was bloated and I’d had that irrational meltdown at my mom’s earlier.
I dug around in my makeup drawer for mascara. Unlike my organized work station, my stuff at home was a mess. My hands skimmed over a circular container and I blinked, looking across the counter at a similar one. I opened the birth control pack—it was my last one—the one I’d been taking when I got sick, and to my surprise and sudden horror, there were four left.
“Fuck.”
I’d been taking the placebo for a week now, waiting for my period to start. Things had gotten hazy while I was sick. I was on so many meds—the antibiotics and the fever reducers. I’d take all the pills in the morning but at least once I got confused and took my antibiotics twice in one day. Then forgot entirely on another.
