Triad: A Three Way Love Story

by Clairissa SinClair

  Avery moved forward to hug her and give her an air kiss. “Oh my God, you’re huge! I almost didn’t recognize you.” she announced loudly, “Are you pregnant.” My hand flew to her belly protectively as if it could save the baby from listening to this nasty bitch’s rudeness. “Good job, Avery, you noticed. Yes, I am. About 5 months now.” I felt her lean into me just a little. “This is my boyfriend, Mick Caporillo.” I held out my hand to Avery and gave her a smile, “Nice to meet you. I’m the daddy-to-be.” Avery held on to my hand a few seconds too long and brushed her fingers against my palm. It didn’t escape Joss’ attention that she licked her lip while she was looking at me. I pulled away and shook his hand as well. He also noticed her attentiveness. When Peter shook my hand it was with an entirely too hard grip in a feeble attempt to show me how manly he was.

  “Mick, I worked with Avery and Pete at Zimmerman. Avery is in Marketing and Pete is head of Product Development.” Pete snorted, “shit is rolling downhill fast, financially speaking. Zim put Amber in your job and she cost the company a fortune in fines and penalties in just one quarter. He was thinking with his dick. He fired her. I bet he’d take you back, if you asked.”

  Joss laughed, “No way. I have my hands full with our own projects and my family”, she hugged me close. “Well, it was lovely seeing you both, but we’re going to be late for Pig Racing and the Blueberry Pie Eating Contest, so we’ve got to run.” Grabbing our bags and her pop, we walked towards the exit before they could react.

  “That’s an interesting offer, isn’t it? You could have your title and your car and your paycheck back.” Joss stopped her tracks and I turned to face her. “David has already called me and offered me a huge raise to come back. I refused. Twice. Fuck him. I have my own firm, plus we have the garage. How could you even think I’d work with him?” I held my hands up in surrender, “I’m just asking. I’d understand if you wanted it all back.” She hugged me, “My life is a million times better now.”

  “Hey, check this out”, I spun her around and dragged her to a sign, “Wanted: Participants for Blueberry Pie Eating Contest. First Prize $500.” Miss Blueberry Festival was standing next to it, “Are you interested handsome? You look like the kind of man that could eat a pie or two?”, she raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Only mine”, Joss interjected, pushing her belly out and standing between Miss Blueberry Festival and me. I kissed the top of her head. Jealousy was sexy as hell. “Yeah, I’m in. Sign me up.” I filled out a card with my information and she told me where to be in about an hour, for the reading of the rules.

  “I cannot believe you’re going to do this?” “Shit baby, you know I’m a man that can eat a pie.” She couldn’t stop laughing, and dodged into a porta potty for another pee break. Thankfully there was no line this time, because last time she ended up crossing her legs before a unit freed up.

  We watched the pig races, cheering loudly for our pick, number three, who lost by a mile. We had time to visit the nearby petting zoo and fed a whole herd of baby goats with a five dollar handful of what I assume was goat chow. After we washed off the goat spit, I got her another blueberry pop just in time to report for the contest.

  I made sure she had a front row seat and reported to the contest desk to check in. The rules were simple. No forks. No hands. Eat a pie with your face. The winner is the one that clears the ten inch pan first. Every single bite. I was positive that Joss was going to wet her pants over this one.

  I handed her my jacket. She had the biggest grin on her face. “You better make sure your bladder is empty girl.” She kissed me. “Already did. You got this baby. No one eats pie like you do.” She slapped me on the ass like she was sending me into the championship game. I took my seat at the long table behind number six with the other contestants and tied on my official pie eating contest bib. I winked at my girl and she gave me a thumbs up.

  “Contestants, hands behind your back please. On your mark, get set”, Miss Blueberry Festival paused dramatically, “GO!” I dove in face first, mouth opened wide. My face was like a bulldozer, plowing through the crust and filling. I got a nose full of blueberries, but didn’t let it slow me down. Hell, I’d had a face full of sand in the gulf while nursing some shrapnel in my ribs. I could handle berries. I swallowed quickly, establishing a pattern of gulp and swallow. I didn’t even both chewing, I was a pie eating machine. I thought I was making good time and had about a quarter of the pie left, when Miss fucking Blueberry yelled out “WINNER!”. A skinny high school kid at the other end of the table was victorious. His pie plate was spotless, licked down to the last crumb. He was covered with the jelly like filling from forehead to chin and Miss Blueberry was jumping up and down with him holding his hand over his head.

  I looked down to the front row and Joss was doubled over holding her stomach. I fucking panicked. I literally lept across the table and landed just in front of her on my knees, “Baby, oh my God, baby, are you ok? What’s wrong?” She sat up and looked at me, tears rolling down her face. I realized she was laughing. She wasn’t just giggling the woman was delirious to the point where she couldn’t even catch her breath enough to work up a Joss snort. I realized I must look exactly like the winner, covered in pie remainants and wearing a bib. “That. Was. Epic. It was” she gasped for air, “the best thing I have ever seen in my life.” Sticking out her tongue she ran it down my face and licking a mouthful of blueberries. I retaliated by giving her a deep tongue blueberry pie flavored kiss, intentionally smearing it around her face a little. “Let’s get you cleaned up baby”. She took my hand and we weaved our way through the crowd, towards the drinking fountain. Every time she looked at me she laughed again.

  I cleaned up as best I could but the pie stained my skin slightly bluish purple. “It’s barely noticeable.”, she kept saying but I knew she was lying. It didn’t stop us from playing all kinds of carnival games and mostly losing miserably.

  “I’ve had enough blueberries today, how about we head home and order a pizza?” I asked. When i said it, I imagined us going home to the cabin. I reminded myself that we weren’t there yet, and just to be happy that we spent such a great day together. “That sounds awesome. My feet are killing me.” “I can carry you”, I offered. “Jesus Mick, I’m pregnant, not crippled. That’s sweet though.” She kissed my blue cheek and we walked towards bike parking with my arm around her shoulder.

  We made it back to the house before the pizza arrived. Dad and Bryce still on the sofa, this time Bryce’s head was resting on dad’s lap and they were watching a cop show. Dad took one look at me, “why do you look like a fucking smurf, Mijo?” Bryce sat up and Joss regaled them with the story of the pie eating contest. I was less than thrilled that she had video on her phone. They were all getting a good laugh at my expense when the pizza delivery guy knocked. I opened it and took the pie out of his hands.

  “Dude, do you know you’re kinda blue?” I threw a twenty at him and slammed the door. Once the hysterics ended, Bryce came to my rescue with some kind of facial cleanser that actually took off at least two layers of skin. I spent the rest of the night watching tv with Joss curled up in my lap. When she fell asleep I tucked her into her bed and snuck out. Before I did, I opened up her nightstand drawer and took her vibrators with me. If I have to wait she has to wait too. Grey was right. Leaving sucked.

  Chapter 39-- Joss

  I woke up alone on Monday morning. My weekend dates were amazing, however, they really served to make me feel more alone than ever when they were gone. I had tons of things left to do for the grand opening of the garage and forced myself out of bed early. Stuck to my bathroom mirror I find a note from Mick:

  Dear Joss--

  We’d like to invite you out tonight, with both of us.

  If you’re interested, we’ll pick you up at your office at 5:30.

  Text me and let me know.

  Love you,

  Smurfy McSmurf

  P.s. I had the best day anyone ever had at the the Blueberry

  Fest
ival.

  I quickly texted him back.

  You are the sexiest smurf ever. I’d love to go out with you and Grey tonight. XXOO

  They must be together because Grey responded back.

  Don’t worry, we’ll feed you, but we have a 6 pm appointment so be ready.

  Mick’s message came through simultaneously.

  It’s a surprised, so don’t ask. Stay off your feet today, your ankles were a little swollen when I put you to bed last night.

  It was so sweet of him to notice. It made me miss them even more. It would be a long day until five.

  I made it to work in time to meet with a new client. She ran a legitimate escort service that deals with a very exclusive clientele. I think we’ll work well together.

  I traced all my shipments of retail merchandise for the shop, and I’m confident that all but one will be there on time for the opening. I confirmed the band and the dancers. I spoke to more food truck that was interested in participating and decided to let them in because their food sounded phenomenal and I was really, really hungry.

  Five o’clock came quickly and I was thrilled to see my two favorite guys standing in the doorway of my office. I’d been freaking out all day over tiny little details and it really felt like a blanket of calm covered me when I wrapped myself in between them. “Are you all done for the day babe?”, Grey asked. “Ready as I’ll ever be. It’s been a hellacious day. I’m trying to get everything confirmed and ready for opening and I have a new client.”

  Mick frowned at me, “If it’s too much for you, just don’t do it. We don’t want you to get all stressed out.” “I’m fine now.” I let them hug me just a little more

  “We’ve gotta get going or we’ll be late honey. Appointment first, dinner later.” It was my turn to frown as I locked my office door, “I’m a little hungry”, I mentioned. They both grinned. Grey pulled a bottle of unsweetened iced herbal tea from his inside pocket, and Mick pulled three of my favorite brand of string cheese from his. Their simple gesture made me feel totally loved and cared for.

  I munched on my snacks all the way to the parking lot of “Baby World”. “We have an appointment to register for baby stuff.”, Grey announced. I clapped my hands, like a happy toddler. “This is wonderful! Thank you.” “We made the appointment with a consultant because we realized that we don’t really know shit about baby stuff.” Mick confessed.

  I realized I didn’t really know much either. I’m sure this was Grey’s idea, and I love it.

  Inez, our consultant met us at the door. She didn’t even bat an eyelash at the two dads thing, which meant that Grey probably explained our situation. Of course she could just be immune to non-traditional families, which would be pretty awesome as well.

  “Let’s start with furniture, then we can move onto bedding and then equipment. Once we’ve covered that I’ll let you wander around and look for extras on your own. We have a guide that suggests how many of each time you’ll need and what sizes and such.” She handed me a scanner gun, and explained the process for adding to the registry.

  Inez got right down to business and directed us towards the cribs. “Are you looking for a particular style or period”, she asked. Shit. I had no idea. Mick jumped in, “our home is a log cabin, but very modern. What would you suggest?” She showed us several rustic styles, then moved us over to modern. The one that caught my eye was charcoal stained wood with brushed nickel accents. The simple, clean lines seemed quite masculine and I was really drawn to it. The guys agreed that it was a perfect place to start. I scanned the tag with the gun she provided and we moved on to the matching changing table and dresser. We added a comfortable upholstered rocking chair and footstool in teal blue, which set the tone for the bedding.

  “Do you have a particular theme in mind?” Inez asked. Shit again. Nope. No theme. This time Grey stepped in, “We’d like to keep it simple and clean, baby animals or cartoons. Mom likes bold colors.” We found a set in shades of blue and a little bit of green in a bold geometric, that we all liked and scanned in the full set and all the accessories and seven matching crib sheets and an assortment of blankets in varying weights and fabrics.

  The next department was equipment, and I think we were all thankful for Inez’s navigation skills. “Just give us the best and safest car seat on the market. I think consumer reports suggests this one,” Grey advised. “You’ve done your homework!”, she said as she scanned it. Of course he did. I wasn’t the least bit surprised.

  We added a portable crib, an exercise saucer, a bumbo seat, a baby bathtub, a swing and a stroller. I never would have thought about all these items, hell, I don’t even know what an exercise saucer is, but Inez suggested it and I trust her. Mick picked the one that looks like a ‘57 Chevy convertible.

  Our advisor guided us to baby clothing and handed us a worksheet. For the next hour we scanned outfits and jammies and teeny little socks and colorful onesies. We marveled at tiny jeans and little bitty sneakers. I picked out a tiny outfit with a bulldog on it that said “bad to the bone” and Mick picked out newborn sized flannel shirts and a baby denim jacket, since he couldn’t find leather. Anything that had a motorcycle on it made the cut instantly. Grey tapped away on his phone checking every brand we touched for safety ratings.

  We picked out bottles based on a report that Grey had found on the internet published by a parenting magazine that suggested a certain brand would prevent tummy aches. The more we walked around the more the list grew.

  Mick’s stomach growled before mine did. “I’m hungry too”, I said, patting his belly. We returned the scanner and thanked Inez for her wonderful assistance.

  “I had no idea that babies required so much stuff!”, I marveled. “Did you see the size of our list? Hey, am the only one who didn’t know what a bumbo seat was?”, I rambled on and climbed into the truck. “Babe, take a deep breath. What do you want for dinner?”, Mick asked. “Oooh, dinner, hmmmm. The baby wants a steak.”

  They both stared at me. I always wanted pizza and antipasto. My carnivore side was hormone driven, I think. “I’m not going to argue”, Grey made a quick turn into the neighboring steakhouse. It was a place they frequented quite often. The owner was a friend and another customer and was the one that greeted us when we walked in the door. “Hey, guys! Great to see you.”, he gave them each a bro hug and back slap when he noticed me, “and who do we have here?” I know that this is bro code for “which one of you knocked up this girl?”

  “Grant, this is Joss. Joss this is Grant Larraby, owner and manager of this joint.”, Grey introduced me. “Great to meet you. I hear you have the best Prime Rib in the city.”, I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too, Joss. Which one of these assholes are you with?” Almost in unison we answered ,”both”. He nodded his head, “figures, I guess. Let me show you to the table and get your some appetizers on the house. I’d offer you wine, but clearly you’re not drinking right now.”

  He sat us at a beautiful table next to a stone fireplace with a real wood burning flame. A server quickly brought us water and bread, which I dove into head first. Baby wants meat but mommy loves her carbs. All three of us went with the Prime Rib, although the guys got the King cut, which was the equivalent of half a cow, I think.

  “You know, eventually we have to name this child. I was thinking about it. How do you feel about Emmet?”, I asked. The both looked at me like a grew a second head or a third tit. “Obviously a no, how about Oliver?” “Really? Oliver? You like that?”, Mick looked at me with total disbelief. “Have you thought about it at all?”, I asked them. “Of course. Just cooler names than Oliver and Emmet. Maybe Max or Axel.” It was Grey’s turn to looked shocked, “you want to name our kid after old tired rock stars? Oh wait, you are named after an old tired rock star. Let’s take turns throwing out names and see what sticks.”

  “Nathan?” “Boring”

  “Miles?”

  “Carter?” “That’s not too bad.”

  “Ian?”

  �
�Matthew?

  “Ryder?” “I like that. Let’s put that on the maybe list.”

  “Henry?”

  “Isaac”

  “Zeke?” “That’s a maybe” “Yeah, definitely a maybe”

  We were still arguing when the food came. We had five maybes and about fifty “no way in hells”.

  “Whatever we name him, he is a serious carnivore. I want meat all the time.”, I scarfed down my fourteen oz prime rib effortlessly, and still picked at the basket of garlic bread. “I was thinking that we need to come up with a last name too. Are we going to hyphenate or we could use one of your last names as a middle name so they’re both there.”

  Grey set his fork down, “We’ve talked about this, too, and we’ll go with whatever you decide. I guess we thought you’d give him your last name.” I shook my head, “no, he’s your son too. We’re going to do this together.”

  “How about Joshua?” “Meh.”

  “What about Zion?” “Nah, what do you think of Julian?” “Hate it. I like Dominic.” “Ew, serious? No way.” “Keep it traditional with John?” “Boring. Jack?” “Shit, this is hard.”

  Grant brought us over dessert on the house--flaming cherries jubilee and homemade vanilla bean ice cream with tons of real whipped cream. No matter how stuffed I am I will never say no to dessert. I was but picking at it when I mused, “It’s too bad we don’t have someone to name him after. Someone to honor. My dad is kind of an asshole so he’s out.”

  “My dad’s a gay 1%-er and your best friend. We can name him Ambush”, Mick jokes.

  “Even if my dad was a good guy, I would never saddle our kid with Earl.” I snorted and a cherry flew across the table. “I think we all appreciate that.”

  “How do you feel about Abraham?”, Mick asked Grey. Grey smiled a knowing smile, “he was a great man. I can’t think of anyone who I’ve ever respected more.”