Page 8 of Hot Life

Happy to be here.

Here. Alive. Here. With me. Here. A dad-to-be. Here. In a polyamorous relationship.

Here.

Why couldn’t I just be here too?

* * *

Dishware and cutlery clanking together had to be the most awkward sound in the world. At a table of me, my two husbands, my sister, her wife, and my parents, there was somehow nothing but a melody of chewing and avoiding eye contact. I kicked Cedric’s ankle across the table and he cleared his throat, pouring himself more red wine. “Reverend Queen, how is the church?”

Church. Not exactly an off-limits subject, but not a safe one either, medium level conversation topic. But he got points for breaking the silence. My father speared an asparagus with his fork. “Church is going fine, Cedric. We’d love to see you all at a service sometime.”

Ah, there it was. Steak with a side of guilt. My family’s specialty.

My mother asked, “The food is delicious, Caroline. Did you learn to cook this in France?”

Caroline beamed. “Yes, ma’am. This is actually one of the dishes on our catering menu. Odette organized such a nice list of choices for our clients to choose from.”

My sister smiled fondly over at her wife.

“Odette could hardly keep her room clean a few years ago. It’s amazing how she manages to plan events.” My mother’s southern accent was charming and sweet, causing the sourness of her words to lose their heat. But I noticed my sister’s cheeks pink. “That’s not true, Mom.”

“Did you see the work Cedric and I did on the yard, Reverend Queen? We cut down that old birch and planted a row of peach trees.” Desmond thankfully changed the subject. “We still need to weed and throw some mulch, but it’s coming along.”

My dad glanced up from his plate for the first time that evening, meeting Desmond’s stare. “Call me Theodore, son. And yes, good work. I could always tell you were a man who liked manual labor. That’s the sign of a strong man. Though, watch out for snakes. The critters love fruit.”

Cedric straightened, knocking back the rest of his wine. I winced. My father had never asked Cedric to call him by his first name. Not since we eloped, at least. My father had definitely never referred to my hardworking doctor husband as a strong man. But at least my dad liked one of my husbands at the moment.

The tension was heavy, and I was ready to be done with it. I was tired and my ankles were swollen from walking around the aquarium all day. “Mom and Dad…Desmond, Ced, and I have some news. Well, all of us do, really. It concerns us all,” I stammered.

My mother sat down her fork while my dad kept eating.

“We’re pregnant…with a baby,” I added. Desmond snorted and it was his turn to get a kick to the ankle. Only I accidentally kicked his prosthetic and jammed my toe. “Ow!” I grimaced as he bit his lip to stop from full on laughing. He reached down to rub my foot tenderly. “I’m due in December.” I grimaced, shaking off his hand.

“Congratulations,” my mother replied calmly.

“Boy or a girl?” my father asked between bites of potatoes au gratin.

Perfectly respectable responses, though devoid of any life or emotion. I narrowed my eyes at my sister who widened her gaze before jerking her head down, inspecting her vegetables like they were the most interesting things in the world.

“You told them,” I accused.

Caroline clapped her hands together, her dark hair swishing. “How about dessert?”

Odette stood. “I’ll help!”

I stood too. “You told them!”

“Girls, stop fighting at the dinner table,” my mother chimed. “It’s rude.”

I glanced between my sister, mom, and dad. “You just wanted me to tell them because you felt guilty you’d already told them. Thanks, Odie.”

Shoving my seat out, I threw my napkin on the table.

“Dorthea, a tantrum isn’t necessary. Lord have mercy, your sister was just excited and sharing happy news with her mother like any normal daughter would.”

Ouch. She was right though. I wasn’t normal. I wasn’t behaving normally, like a doting, excited, pregnant person.

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