Keith looked at Brody now. “You know we’re not going anywhere, right? You remember we’re having this baby at home?”
“Right. Right,” Brody said. “So, I’ll call the midwife?”
Jubilee laughed and put a hand up to stay him. “It’s early yet. Too soon to call her.”
Brody was suspicious. “You sure? How do you know? You’ve never done this before, remember? Neither of you.”
Yeah, and that was a beautiful thing. That this was something Jubilee was giving them that she’d given to no one else before. That they were giving a child to her, as no one before had done. Jubilee had, in fact, glowed through most of the pregnancy. But, honestly, the guys had, too. They’d all loved it. Keith thought they’d all three had to hold back from strutting around like…like peacocks.
They’d decided, in the end, that there were enough practical reasons—birth certificate, health insurance, and so on—to have an identified biological father for their kids. They’d done odds-and-evens, and Keith had won again. He knew he’d be proud of her and love her through any pregnancy, just as Brody and Henry were doing now. But having this be his child was a major turn-on—sexually, true, but in many more ways, as well.
Right now, it was looking like their beautiful girl might be the calmest one among them through this process. She held that hand out to Brody. “I’m sure. It’s early yet.”
But Brody was a doer. “How about”—he was grasping at straws now, clearly—“I boil some water?”
Jubilee smiled. “Yes,” she said. “For tea. I’d like a cup. Good thinking.”
Brody stood over her, hands on hips, his glare slowly morphing to a sheepish grin. “Okay. You can stop laughing at me.” He looked at her as he drew a deep breath and chilled in the face of her calm. Then he took that hand she’d extended. “Dance with me.”
Like damned Fred Astaire, he took her into his arms and moved with her in a gentle, romantic dance. Keith watched for a minute, then stirred himself to put some music on, slow and sultry. After a while, he could tell that Brody had figured out when her contractions came. He slowed his steps then to a soothing sway and put both his hands on Jubilee’s lower back, massaging.
Labor dance. They’d learned it in class.
Henry had come into the room, shot an eyebrow in Keith’s direction, and seemed to catch on to the big event underway. He left for a minute, and he must have clued in the women, because one of them would poke her head in every little bit after that to see how things were going. Janie, who’d decided she’d missed her calling as a midwife, was the only one who had to be gently escorted back downstairs after a too-long visit.
Jubilee and the three guys hadn’t discussed it beforehand, but it became obvious spontaneously—this was an experience the four wanted to share only among themselves.
They spent the rest of the afternoon at it. Keith took the next dance, and then Henry. After a while, things got more serious. They went to her bed and lay with her, one holding her in his arms and the others rubbing her back or her feet. Henry leaned in every couple contractions with a water bottle, urging her to drink. When she started to moan with the contractions, Keith gave the nod to Brody to call the midwife.
Three hours later, Jubilee held a little baby to her chest, dark haired like its mother, still wet and steamy and smelling like—his. He touched baby and mother and was given his first true understanding of the primal, physiologic nature of bonding.
They hadn’t learned the baby’s sex during the pregnancy. They’d all understood, though they’d never spoken of it, that a woman living with three men could use a little help on the girl team.
They were gathered around now—Keith with his hand over Jubilee’s on the baby’s back, Brody on her other side, hand on the butt, and Henry, still propping Jubilee up from behind, reached to touch the baby’s head. The baby was quiet, content there with its parents, cord still attached.
Jubilee was catching her breath, tears of exertion and relief and, Keith was sure, love on her cheeks. “Oh,” she exclaimed. “Oh. What is it?”
Apparently, the midwife didn’t consider that to be part of her job. “Take a peek,” she said, a satisfied smile on her face and maybe even a couple tears of her own.
Brody was in the best position to look. He took hold of a squirmy little foot and lifted it up. “Oh, lordy,” he said. “Honey, we’re gonna have to get you a little girl puppy.”
THE END
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