Page 67 of Four Tattoos

I hug her and Brittany, and various conversations start up around us as Juliana cuts the cake, plates the pieces, and distributes them, first to me, and then everyone else.

I’m going to miss it here, but even though I’ve been feeling more like myself these days, there’s no way I can continue to work all of the hours I was working.

“To Rose!” Callie cheers, raising a cup filled with sparkling apple juice. “Off to be a wifey!”

“I’m not getting married,” I say with a laugh.

“I know, but those men would have you at the altar in a second if they could,” Callie says. “If marriages to four men were legal.”

Brittany taps the edge of her cup to mine with a hopeful smile. “Someday.”

We eat and drink our celebratory apple juice, and little by little, most of the men filter out of the room after getting their fill of both cake and our talk of polyamory and polyandry.

“I’ve always wanted to ask,” Juliana says, “how did you meet your guys?”

I happily share the story of my first coffee shop delivery to Brothers in Ink, and my instant attraction to the men despite my feeling that we were from different worlds. I tell her how grumpy the men were, how it seemed that they barely wanted to acknowledge me, and how they practically snarled at me.

“Now, they massage my feet, they cook for me, they shopped for prenatal vitamins, and they even found an obstetrician and accompanied me to my first appointment.”

“They all went to the appointment?” Brittany asks.

“They weren’t all allowed to go into the exam room, but they’re planning to take turns going to future appointments, so they can all learn about helping me through the pregnancy and the delivery. I’d have never pictured them doing any of this when I first met them.”

They’re honestly the most caring, thoughtful men I’ve ever known and could ever imagine, but I keep this part to myself, since Callie and Juliana aren’t currently in relationships and I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging.

“I’m so happy for you,” Callie says, “but you have to stop telling me how perfect your men are. My skin is about to turn green from so much envy.”

I give my friend’s shoulders a squeeze. “I know you’ll find someone just as perfect for you. It can happen when you least expect it.”

51

ZIPPER - NINE MONTHS LATER

I’m not nervous.

I don’t get nervous.

I’m really fucking nervous.

For Rose’s sake, I hide the fact that my palms are sweaty and my heart is pounding like a drum solo.

Excitement is part of the reason for my symptoms, but I’m also worried about Rose and the baby. I don’t want Rose to feel any pain, and I don’t want there to be any complications.

The nurses have assured us multiple times that everything is going smoothly, but Rose is definitely restless, and she’s nervous herself, and it’s killing me that there’s nothing we can do to help her through this other than hold her hand and try to make her as comfortable as possible.

At least the hospital agreed to let us all in the delivery room. As hard as this is, it would have been excruciating to have to pace around the waiting room and wait for updates.

“Want more water?” Christian asks, offering the cup to her.

She nods and takes a sip as Hutch wipes her forehead. “Can you put some music on?” she says to no one in particular.

“What do you want to listen to?” Mace asks.

“Store soundtrack,” she says, sounding like it’s hard for her to get the words out.

While I’m still trying to figure out what she means, Hutch gets his phone out and a mellow beat fills the room. As the pace kicks up, Rose’s eyes soften and she says, “‘Interstate Love Song’ by Stone Temple Pilots. Perfect.”

Then she lets out a strangled cry that registers as a sharp pain straight down the center of my body.

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