Page 105 of Curvy Cabin Fever
“It doesn’t matter who the daddy is, right?” he asks, his gaze sweeping over Morgan and Damien before returning to me. “Unless you want that, Aria.”
I shake my head, eyes brimming with tears of gratitude. In our arrangement, paternity could be a complication.
“Then there’s nothing to talk about,” Damien says, tossing the test onto the porch railing like a challenge to the universe. “Aria’s ours. So is the baby.”
Morgan pulls me into his arms, and the others follow until I’m surrounded, enveloped, held by all three of them at once—a tangle of arms and hearts and shared breath.
“I love you,” I whisper into this circle of belonging. “I love all of you.”
Damien presses a kiss to my hair, his lips lingering. Morgan squeezes my hand, thumb rubbing circles on my palm. Rhettcups my jaw with those hands that have held me through so much already, his eyes fierce and soft all at once.
“We’re not just building a life anymore,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “We’re building a real family.”
That night,they treat me like I’m made of glass.
Morgan cooks my favorite meal—pasta with the creamy sauce that usually makes Damien complain about calories. Rhett builds a fire that turns the living room golden and warm. Damien disappears for an hour and returns with a stack of books on pregnancy and parenting, already dog-eared like he’s been reading them in the car.
“I’m not sick,” I remind them as Morgan insists on serving me on the couch instead of at the table. “Just pregnant.”
“Humor us,” Rhett says, settling beside me with a gentleness that makes me roll my eyes.
“At least for tonight,” Morgan adds, placing a plate in my hands.
Damien says nothing, but his eyes haven’t left my stomach all evening, like he’s trying to see through skin and muscle to the miracle happening beneath. He’s so cute.
After dinner, we curl together on the oversized sectional Rhett ordered last month—“Because we need something that fits all of us,” he’d insisted. Morgan pulls my feet into his lap, massaging them with skilled hands. Damien sits on the floor, leaning against my legs, occasionally reaching up to touch my knee as if reassuring himself I’m still there.
Rhett’s fingers thread through mine, his thumb tracing the lines of my palm.
“Are you scared?” he asks quietly.
I consider lying, then remember who I’m talking to. These men who have seen me at my most vulnerable, who have held me through nightmares and ecstasy and everything in between.
“Yes,” I admit. “But not in a bad way. More like...standing at the edge of something enormous. Something beautiful but overwhelming.”
Morgan’s hands pause on my feet. “We’re scared too,” he confesses with unusual seriousness. “But we’re here. All the way.”
“Every step,” Damien adds, turning to press his lips to my knee.
“Whatever you need,” Rhett finishes, squeezing my hand.
And I know they mean it. These three men who found each other before they found me, who opened their circle and pulled me into the center of something I never knew could exist.
Later, when we move to the bedroom, they touch me like I’m a goddess. They undress me slowly, each piece of clothing removed with care, like they’re unwrapping something precious.
Morgan kisses my belly first, his usual playfulness replaced with something that looks suspiciously like prayer.
Damien’s hands map my body with an architect’s precision, lingering on the places that will soon change, memorizing me as I am now.
Rhett watches them, then me, his eyes dark with emotion. When he finally touches me, it’s cupping my face between his palms.
“Thank you,” he whispers, and I know he means for more than just tonight.
We make love differently than we have before. Not the wild passion of our beginning, nor the playful exploration of our recent days. This is something deeper and slower.
They take turns, one, then another, while the third holds me, cradles me, whispers love against my skin. They movetogether with the synchronicity that still amazes me—passing me between them like something beyond valuable, ensuring I’m never without touch, never without connection.
When it’s over, we lie tangled together, sweat cooling on our skin, heartbeats gradually slowing to match each other’s rhythm. Morgan’s head rests on my stomach, as if listening for changes that won’t be audible for months. Damien curls against my side, his arm draped protectively across my hips. Rhett lies above us, one hand in my hair, the other reaching across to touch the others, completing our circle.
