Luca looks from the results to Quentin. “How much time does that give me?”
“I can’t give you an exact delivery date yet,” Quentin says. “Your previous pregnancies were different between the twins and Rosalie.”
Luca’s fingers tighten around mine. “Rosalie was about four.”
“A little over,” Quentin confirms. “The twins developed faster early and then slowed. This pregnancy may resemble either of them, or neither. I’ll have a better range after the follow-up scans.”
“So the baby could come in another month,” Luca says.
“It’s possible,” Quentin answers. “Or you could have closer to five. Right now, the development looks normal, and that’s the only timeline I’m willing to promise.”
Luther lifts his head. “Can you identify the biological father?”
“I can run a preliminary fetal-marker comparison today if everyone wants it.” Quentin places the tablet on the counter instead of pretending the result will be immediate or absolute. “Fetal cells are already circulating in Luca’s blood. I can compare the blood-group markers and a limited inherited profile against samples from all biological mates.”
“All of us,” Grayson says, his thumb still moving over Luca’s knuckles.
“All of you,” Quentin confirms. “I’m not ruling anyone out based on what I know, or don’t know, about your private lives. The rapid panel should take twenty to thirty minutes after I have every sample. The full laboratory comparison will take about a week.”
Luca looks around the room, his hand still locked with mine while Luther’s arm remains around his waist. “Do it.”
Quentin draws blood from Luther, Grayson, Maceo, and me. He labels every tube in front of us, loads the rapid panel, and leaves after reminding us that the preliminary result may need confirmation.
The room grows quieter once the door closes. Luca remains on the examination table with Luther behind him, one of Luther’s hands resting low over his stomach while Grayson sits close enough that their shoulders touch. Maceo takes the chair beside mine, though tension keeps his hands clasped between his knees.
Another wave of nausea moves through me. Luca notices before I can breathe past it and reaches across the space between us, taking my hand from the handle of my cane.
“Is it worse?” he asks, turning my palm upward over his knee.
“It’s passing.” I lean back and let him rub his thumb through the center of my hand. “It feels familiar now that I know what it is.”
Luca lifts my knuckles to his mouth and keeps them there while the tightness beneath my ribs eases. His other hand remains low against his stomach beneath Luther’s palm.
“You had enough reasons not to recognize it,” he says. “Your medication changed. You’ve been recovering, and I didn’t know what my own body was doing.”
“I should’ve mentioned the nausea.”
“You did.” Grayson’s fingers move slowly over Luca’s thigh while he looks toward me. “You just didn’t turn it into a crisis.”
Maceo shifts closer until his knee touches mine. He watches Luca for a moment before lowering his attention to the small bandage inside his own elbow.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to hope for,” he admits.
Luca turns toward him. Luther loosens his hold enough for Luca to reach across and place his free hand against Maceo’s cheek. “You don’t have to decide what the right reaction is before we have an answer,” Luca says. “Besides if the baby’snotyours, then we just try again.”
Maceo lets out a small chuckle as he closes his eyes beneath Luca’s palm for a moment before covering Luca’s hand with his own. Grayson leans closer and kisses the side of Luca’s head, while Luther bends to press his mouth against Luca’s temple.
The room remains quiet until Grayson looks toward the hand covering Luca’s stomach.
“I noticed the nesting,” he says. “Your scent changed too, but there was so much happening that I couldn’t separate it from the stress.”
Luca rests his head against Grayson’s. “I thought I was tired.”
“Youaretired,” Luther says against his hair. His palm moves once beneath Luca’s hand. “That doesn’t mean you were supposed to know why.”
Luca’s fingers tighten around mine when the analyzer begins running in the adjoining room. No one tries to guess whichsample will match. We remain close in the cramped space, talking quietly about when the nausea began, the meals Luca has abandoned halfway through, and the changes Grayson noticed in the office nest.
Quentin returns twenty-four minutes later carrying his tablet and a printed report. He closes the door behind him and sits across from Luca before placing either result on the counter.
