Patel nods. “You did the right thing coming in. You’ll do it again if you need. No extra points for stoicism.” Her eyes flick up and over my shoulder to the line of men, amused. “The peanut gallery behaving?”
“For once,” I murmur.
Priya prints photos, and the machine coughs out tiny squares that will live on my fridge until the next set replaces them. Littleprofile. Little foot. Little hand. A smudge that Priya promises is a yawn. I cradle the film like it could bruise.
“Two more things,” Patel says, business returning as smoothly as it left. “First, logistics—I want to see you twice weekly from here out. We want to keep a close watch as we near the end of this pregnancy.”
“You want to stalk me, noted. And second?”
Patel glances around at the men. “Let’s get the peanut gallery out of here first.”
I shake my head. “They’ve been here for me through this whole experience. I want them here. They’re my translators.”
“You won’t need a translator for this part, Willow, and you can always fill them in?—”
I shake my head and say firmly, “They stay.”
She sighs and looks down at the floor. “Okay. Miss Abel, would you be interested in having a paternity test done?”
The air doesn’t so much change as itnotices itself. I can feel three men straighten without moving. My palms go damp under the paper drape.
“I—”
“You don’t have to say yes,” she says gently. “You don’t even have to say anything right now. Think about it. But it…” She leans in and murmurs, “There are legal protections, many reasons why you might want to know who is…responsible.”
“I don’t think…”
“You should do it,” Rowan says. “She’s right. There are plenty of reasons to be legally recognized as family.”
“No rush,” Patel says gently, and this is why I trust her. She never pushes me to the cliff. She gestures toward the screen. “Fortoday, I want you to take home the fact that everyone on that monitor is dancing. Eat. Hydrate. Feet up. You make sure to find someone to wait on you like a princess.”
“You hear that, boys? Doctor’s orders—I’m royalty now,” I say smugly, fluffing my hair.
“She doesn’t need encouragement, God love her,” Sean says cheerfully, and Patel’s mouth curves.
“Questions?” she asks the room at large.
We all shake our heads, but I know we all have questions. I just don’t know whether or not we can handle the answers.
21
ROWAN
The envelope lieson the counter like it’s nothing. White paper, black print, the kind of thing you’d throw in the recycling without a second glance. But every set of eyes in the room keeps drifting back to it as if it’s radioactive.
Willow brought it back to her place and told us that Dr. Patel had slipped it into her palm and told her, “Your results are in.”
We’ve been playing house with her, pretending that night of the three kisses didn’t happen, that we haven’t all admitted in our own ways that we’re in love with her. The fear of losing the babies really brought it all back to the beginning again, to the core of what we care about—there’s more to this than ownership. Seeing the babies on that screen made me realize that, that what I have a chance at here is a real family. But I know better than anyone that family doesn’t have to be blood. I’ve never had it either way.
I stand with my arms folded, shoulder to the wall, pretending the scuff mark on the tile matters more than the words in that envelope. Sean’s pacing. Declan’s too still, which is worse. And Willow sits on her couch with her hands folded tight across herstomach, like she’s already bracing for impact. I can see a damp spot on the envelope, sweaty palms. She’s shaking, and I want to be able to scoop her up and tell her it doesn’t matter. But maybe it does. Maybe she wants a real family. The thought makes my heart twinge.
She looks up, green eyes darting between us. “Do you—are y’all really gonna make me read the results?”
“It’s not ours to read, love, you know that,” Declan whispers.
She glances at him, anxiety in her wide eyes, and Sean says, a little teasing, “You’re not in trouble,a chroi. Whatever it says, no one’ll be mad at ya, right?”
“But you’d…” She sets the envelope down on the couch. “It would change how y’all see…me. Us.”
