Smiling even as she shook her head, Christa checked to make sure she’d gotten everything before placing the hamper to the side. Then, with a modest amount of huffing and puffing, she managed to maneuver herself into a seated position.
She’d cautioned them countless times, but her men refused to listen, insisting on spoiling their son at every opportunity. Not that she was entirely innocent. She, too, found it difficult to deny their, usually, sweet-natured boy. And, of course, there was the fact his papas continued to spoil her, nearly as much as they had at the start of their unconventional relationship.
Just last night, she’d been sent to the master bath after dinner to find the tub filled and the room awash in candlelight. While she’d soaked beneath the bubbles, Felix, Asher, and Tate had put Ethan to bed, taking turns singing him songs and reading stories until he’d fallen fast asleep. And then they’d come for her.
Though their eyes had flashed with hunger, they’d been reverent and tender, making love to her for hours. As the first light of dawn peeped through the window blinds, they’d collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs, moonlight peeping through the window blinds. And for the first time in a long time, Christa had slept—a soothing, dreamless sleep—waking sated and refreshed.
As if in protest, the babies kicked. Dipping her head, Christa curved her hands around her burgeoning belly. I know, my little cubs. You don’t mean to make things difficult. Carrying twins was proving to be quite a challenge. She’d been ill for almost the entire pregnancy, only recently beginning to feel as if she were regaining her strength. But her ungainly shape made finding a comfortable position more and more elusive. So, she’d resigned herself to living in a fog.
But the end was in sight. Two more months—if she went full term—and their family would be complete. The cabin in the woods filled to brimming with children, just as she’d imagined when Felix had shared his dream for the future with her.
The years between then and now had been full of revelations and challenges. As with any union, they’d done their fair share of negotiating. Much of it centered on the Baers adjusting their expectations of her time. She’d insisted on continuing to work and maintain her friendships. Well, friendship, anyway.
As it turned out, embracing an alternative lifestyle short-circuited most potential relationships. But Lana continued to be Christa’s champion, supporting and cheering her on from the very beginning. She and her husband, John, were frequent visitors to the cabin, and eager, second string-babysitters.
On the front line were Sharon and Arthur Baer. Christa thanked heaven every day for her in-laws. Not once had she been made to feel deviant or even unwelcome. They’d accepted her into their home and family as if their sons’ being in love with the same woman was simply how it was always meant to be.
It was a small support system, but it was fierce. And Christa knew she would need it, desperately, once the girls arrived.
She’d stopped working before getting pregnant with the twins. As much as she loathed the idea of denying who she and the Baers were to one another, she couldn’t stand the thought of her children being judged for their parents’ choices. So she’d made the decision to homeschool Ethan, and whoever else came after him. At least until they were old enough to understand just how special their family was.
A burst of laughter drew Christa’s attention to the opposite side of the field. Felix, Asher, and Tate lumbered about, making good sport for their young son as they played a rambunctious game of tag. The three-year-old pumped his chubby legs and arms, bent at the elbows, as he flitted from one target to another, reminding Christa of a bumblebee drunk on too much sunshine and pollen. He was a beautiful boy, full of mischief and curiosity, with dark hair and amber eyes exactly like his papas’.
Just then, Asher zigged when he should have zagged, giving Ethan the opportunity to get a hand on the back of his father’s thigh.
“You’re it, Papa Ash!” he shouted before scurrying to a safe distance.
Asher took off after Felix and Tate in earnest. Green and blue confetti sprayed from beneath the men’s scrabbling feet as they bobbed and wove around one another. Ethan clapped his hands at the spectacle, jumping up and down, his giggles floating high into the air and swirling around Christa before fading into the trees.
A wave of intense emotion washed over her. The comforting thoughts of trusted friends and beloved family of only moments ago twisted and warped. It was all too much … too much to lose. Delight turned to dread. Her heart grew heavy, her skin cold. Her breath caught in her throat. Squeezing her eyes as tight as she could, she lifted her face to the sun. Even still, hot tears slipped from beneath her lashes, tracking damp trails down her cheeks.
The bizarre episodes unsettled and confused her. She’d tried to dismiss them at first, blame them on the double dose of pregnancy hormones coursing through her veins. But as they’d become more frequent and insistent, it had become difficult to attribute them solely to chemistry. Something else was at work. Something in her psyche she hadn’t yet mustered the strength or courage to properly investigate.
A shadow settled over her, prompting Christa to open her eyes. One of the men stood over her, silhouetted by the sun.
“Little one?” Felix tipped his head to the side. “Are you crying?”
“No,” she denied, even as she tried to whisk away the evidence.
Oddly, Felix didn’t contradict her. Instead, he settled himself behind her, bracketing her between his bent legs. His hands were gentle on her shoulders as he attempted to ease her back against him. But she resisted, twisting around enough to deliver an indignant glare.
“Why are you glowering at me?”
“I’m seven months pregnant with twins. I’ll glower if I want to.”
“Fair enough.” He chuckled lightly before sobering. “And is that also why you’re crying on such a beautiful afternoon?”
“I told you. I’m not crying.”
One dark brow shot up into his forehead. “I know crying when I see it.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe I was crying, but can you blame me? I can barely move, as it is. And I’m only going to get bigger. A giant, enormous, wha—”
“Stop,” he insisted. “We both know that’s not what’s going on.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He opened and then closed his mouth, pressing his lips in a thin line as he considered her.
“Little one,” he began. “We’ve all noticed. You’re restless … anxious … becoming more and more withdrawn—”
“What about last night?” she interrupted, defensively. “You can’t say I was withdrawn last night.”
“No, you weren’t,” he conceded, reaching out and cupping her cheek. “Last night you were amazing.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “But it had been six weeks since you’d been with any of us.”
“I haven’t been feeling well.”
“We know.” He shook his head slowly from side to side. “Fuck. This is coming out all wrong.”
It hurt her to see him struggle, her Felix, who prided himself on being in control, knowing the right thing to say, the right thing to do. She reached out, putting her hands flat against his chest. He scooted closer, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to the top of her head. For several moments, they sat together quietly, the only sound coming from the birds in the trees and the three jolly rivals playing across the meadow.
“Ethan’s going to be four next month.”
The unexpected change in subject startled her, but she latched on to the topic eagerly.
“I know.” She plucked at a button on Felix’s shirt. “I’ve got to start making plans.”
“He told Tate on the walk over he wants a cowboy party.”
Christa smiled. “For the pony rides, no doubt.”
“Of course,” Felix confirmed. “Asher went ahead and booked the one we’d talked about.”
“Oh.” She tilted h
er head to look up at him. “Good. Thank you.” She bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry I haven’t been on top of things…”
He shook his head. “That’s not why I brought it up.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
He took in a deep, shuddering breath, and then let it out slowly.
“My dear, sweet little one,” he crooned, leaning down to give her an achingly tender kiss before continuing. “Your child is going to be four years old.”
He’d said it as if it held some deeper meaning. She gazed up at him, her brows pulled tight with confusion.
“I know, Felix.”
“Four years old,” he repeated. “The same age you were when you lost your parents.”
And just like that, the light went on. Of course, the free-floating fear and anxiety could be traced to her traumatic childhood.
“How did I not see it?” she wondered aloud.
“To be fair…” He ran his hand over her middle in a loving caress. “You’ve had other things on your mind.”
“I know, but—” She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. “I’ve been making myself miserable.”
“We know. And we’ve been racking our brains trying to think of a way to help. I’m not sure we ever would have figured it out if not for Ethan.”
“Ethan?”
“Yes.” Felix smiled. “When we went to pick him up at Mom and Dad’s the other day, they told us he’d been asking what we were like when we were four. They’d told him a couple of funny stories about the trouble we used to get into. And then he’d asked about you. Mom and Dad tried to explain that they hadn’t known you when you were a child. And that’s when the three of us realized…” He tightened his arms around her. “When you were four, your world was turned upside down.”
“Oh, Felix. The thought of Ethan, or Eva and Ella, going through that… I—I just can’t.”
Clutching him tight, Christa hid her face in his neck and surrendered to a fresh round of tears.
“You don’t have to worry, little one,” he soothed her, rubbing circles over her back. “We’ve made sure of it.”
“What do you mean?” She pulled away to look up at him.
“First, promise me you won’t get upset.”
“What did you do?”
He sighed. “Asher, Tate, and I went to a lawyer.”
“No.”
“Yes, Christa,” he insisted. “We should have done it when Ethan was born. On this matter, you’re not only being ridiculous, you’re being irresponsible. We’re going to have three children, soon, and they need to be protected. And so do you.”
Though she had no real response, she opened her mouth to argue, but Felix cut her off.
“It’s done! We go in on Monday to sign it.”
She sniffed. “Will I at least be allowed to read it?”
“Yes. And make changes, if reasonable. We put down our parents as guardians. We didn’t know how you’d feel about that… Please, little one, I can’t take much more crying.”
“I’m sorry,” she warbled, putting the back of her hand to her nose and trying to pull herself together. “Your parents are perfect. I just… Thank you,” she whispered.
“Mama! I’m hungry! Mama!”
Christa turned to see Ethan bearing down on her. He’d somehow managed to get away from Tate and Asher, who were doing their best to catch up to the scampering child.
“Ethan! Ethan, wait!” Tate called.
But there was no stopping him, his little legs a blur as he shortened the distance between them.
“Ethan! Easy,” Felix warned, cinching one arm tight around her even as he held the other out to ward off his overenthusiastic son.
They needn’t have worried. Ethan came to a screeching stop at the edge of the blanket, dropping down to hands and knees before crawling toward Christa.
“Mama?” His face scrunched in bewilderment. “Are you crying, Mama?”
Before she could answer, Asher arrived and scooped Ethan up in his arms.
“Mama’s fine,” he reassured the boy. “Remember? We talked about this. Some mamas cry when they’re having babies. But only because they’re so happy. Right, Mama?”
“That’s right.” She blotted her cheeks with the back of her hand. “These are happy tears.”
Moving paper goods out of the way, Tate stretched out beside her. “Really, Goldie?”
“Yes, really,” she told him, taking the napkin he offered.
She dried her eyes and blew her nose. Then she looked at each of the men in turn. “Felix told me what you did.”
“Uh, oh,” Tate murmured.
Christa turned to him with a smirk. “And I wanted to say thank you.”
“So, you’re not angry?” Asher asked.
“Oh, she was,” Felix reported.
“But I’m not anymore.”
“Good,” Asher breathed. “That’s good.”
Ethan wriggled out of his arms and then climbed onto Christa’s lap. He wrapped his arms around her as best as he could, resting his chin on the crest of her belly.
“I don’t like it when you cry, Mama,” he told her earnestly.
“All right then, little bear, I won’t.”
“But I still want you to be happy,” he allowed. “Just not too happy. Like the story Papa Felix read last night.”
“Which story was that, Ethan?” Asher asked as he settled down next to Christa, leaning back on his elbows.
“The bear story,” Ethan explained. “Too cold, too hot, too hard, too soft…”
“Just right,” Felix added, reaching out to ruffle Ethan’s hair.
“Yes, Mama, like that,” the child confirmed. “You should be happy just right.”
Turning her head, she looked at Felix, Asher, and Tate in turn, comforted to know she wasn’t the only one touched by their child’s innocent wisdom. She kissed the top of Ethan’s head, hugging him as tightly as the babies would allow while the men inched in as close as possible. And though she suspected it would always be a struggle to keep the past from clouding their future, for the moment, she was content.
“Then that’s what I’ll be,” Christa told Ethan, gazing over his head to see Felix, Asher, and Tate nodding in agreement. “Happy just right,” she promised. “From now until forever.”
The End
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Just Right! Page 9
