On the drive back to Ashley’s place, she put her hand on my leg. “You don’t have to spend the night alone,” she said. When I didn’t respond, she continued, “Look. Angela and Emmy know you’re out with me tonight, right? You’ve told ‘em that I’m interested in you, and you’ve also told ‘em that you’ve seen me naked, so they probably expect it, right? I mean, right?”
“Sorry, Ash,” I said, lifting her hand off my leg. “Friends, yes, benefits, no.”
Ashley sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. “I just don’t understand you,” she pouted. “I’ve served myself up on a freaking platter, and you keep turning me down, even though you’re obviously interested. This isn’t fair to either of us.”
“Ash,” I said, pulling up in front of her apartment. “Sure, I think you’re hot. Sure, I’ve taken peeks when you’ve offered them. What red-blooded girl wouldn’t? You’re young, athletic and healthy, on top of being pretty. And you have a cute accent. Of course I find you attractive, but that isn’t what I want from you. I want a friend, not a lover. I like you best when you’re just being yourself, and not trying to tear my clothes off, metaphorically speaking.”
“How about when I tear my clothes off?” she asked, back to being playful.
“Honestly? The night we went driving and you stripped naked and stayed that way? I thought that was, well, pretty damned cool. Once you gave up on trying to jump my bones and just rolled with being yourself, I thought you were at your very best,” I said. “That doesn’t mean you should do it again,” I said, grabbing her wrist to stop it as she started pulling the hem of her dress up around her waist. “But you allowed yourself to just, I dunno, let go and be, if that makes sense.”
Ashley made no move to pull the skirt of her dress back into place, but I can’t say that surprised me.
“I liked being naked like that,” she admitted. “I liked the feeling of the air on my skin, and the leather seats, and knowing that I was doing something, well, like, naughty, I guess. It was awesome. And I do want to do it again. And Leah, I would have been totally cool with you bending me over your car’s hood and fucking me right on the side of the road, but I was also happy, in a way, that you didn’t. I know this sounds strange, and, like, kinda twisted, I guess, but somehow knowing you’re gonna turn me down gives me room to be, well, wild, I suppose. I can pull my panties off in your car,” she said, doing just that, leaving the dress up around her hips. “And still- and yeah, this sounds weird- feel safe.”
“Can we make a deal?” I asked, doing my best to avoid glancing down.
“What do you mean?” Ashley asked.
“You just be yourself around me. And I’ll continue to make you feel safe.”
“You mean no bending me over the car hood and fucking me on the side of the road?” Ashley asked with a pout, but I could tell she was just teasing.
“No roadside sex,” I agreed. “Or sex in your apartment. Or my condo. In fact, sex is off the agenda.”
“But being naked is O.K.?” Ashley asked, leaning forward and pulling her knit dress the rest of the way off, leaving her wearing nothing but her heels.
“Being naked is O.K., I guess, if it floats your boat,” I said with a sigh.
“Alright, I’ll take your deal. I’ll park my ass in the friend zone, no courtesy white telephone calls for me. But I want you to call me when you’re in town, and we can hang out. Do friend stuff. You can take me to the haunted mansion- people keep telling me about it, but I’ve never been. In return, I’ll… well, I’ll be your sometimes naked friend.” After a moment, Ashley looked down at her chest and asked, “Is it cold in here, or is it just me?”
Unable to stop myself, I did look down at her little boobs and saw that yes, her temperature indicators were announcing that it was just a bit nipply. I quickly glanced back up, but Ashley had seen me look and was giving me a knowing smile.
“I guess you are a red-blooded girl after all,” she said with a smirk.
I quickly pulled my phone out of my pocket and took a picture of her sitting in the passenger seat of the M3, bare-ass naked. At her puzzled look, I asked, “What’s your dad’s cell phone number again?”
“What? No!” Ashley said, grabbing for my phone.
Laughing my ass off, I held the phone away while simultaneously trying to fend off a naked, grabby Ashley, who eventually more or less climbed out of her seat and over the hump and was draped across me.
“Alright, alright!” I said, and bringing up the picture and deleting it for her, then shoving her back onto her side of the car. “Now put your clothes back on and go home. I need to get some sleep.”
Ashley collected herself, then gathered her things, making no effort to put her dress back on. In a very casual way she said, “Thank you for a perfectly lovely evening, Leah. I had a very nice time.” Then, unable to stop herself from grinning, she said, “Some day I’m gonna see you naked. Judging by your workout outfit, you have one hell of a freaking body.”
“Go home, Ash,” I said, giving her a gentle shove on the shoulder. “Go give your roommates a show.”
“They were all asleep last time,” she grumbled. “Probably are this time, too.”
“Their loss,” I said as Ashley opened the door and climbed out. And yes, I did check out her skinny runner’s butt as she stepped from the car.
She leaned in the open passenger window and said, “Call me tomorrow. We can have lunch or something.”
“I’m flying back to LA at ten,” I said apologetically.
“Next time, then,” she said, then turned and walked up the stairs to her apartment, her clothes in her hands. I waited until she was inside, then drove away, pondering the mysteries of life.
What ifs never do anybody any good, but they’re really hard to avoid thinking about. What if Emmy hadn’t come to Stanford? Would I have met a girl like Ashley? Ashley herself was too young- she was a freshman while I was a senior, and the chances our paths would ever have crossed were practically nonexistent, but still…
Lying in bed back at the condo, I realized that I was missing Angela, and not Emmy. Thinking about it, I concluded that the San Jose condo was not really a place I associated with Emmy at all, but Angela and I had spent quite a few weekends there together. It wasn’t that I loved Angela more than Emmy, just that somehow my life had sorted into ‘things I associate with Emmy’ and ‘things I associate with Angela’.
Our third check-in at the fertility clinic yielded a fifty per cent success rate. Angela yes, Emmy no. Surprisingly, Emmy was overjoyed (despite her cramps from another transferral), but Angela was disheartened.
“I wanted our babies to be born at the same time,” Angela said on the drive home, trying to hold back her tears.
“Now that we know the eggs are good, perhaps this one will take? Babies a week apart- that is still very much the same age,” Emmy said, holding Angela’s hand in hers. Wiping Angela’s tears away, Emmy said in a soft voice, “If we had our babies the same day, I would not be able to be there when you give birth, and you would not be there for me.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Angela said with a teary smile. “I want you holding my hand when…”
“I will, and Leah will hold the other. And then, when it is my turn, you two will be there for me,” Emmy said, kissing Angela’s hand tenderly.
I skipped class that night to stay home, and the three of us celebrated the little cluster of cells growing inside Angela’s belly. Of course, our celebration consisted of a good group cuddle on the couch after a nice, healthy dinner.
Emmy made use of the fact that Angela tended to wear midriff-baring tops and kissed Angela’s tummy repeatedly. “She will be our little princess,” Emmy cooed, resting her cheek on Angela’s belly. “She will be so beautiful she will break hearts everywhere she goes. She will be loving, and sweet, like her mother. And fierce and strong, like her other mother. And from me, she will get her voice. I will teach her to sing, and dance. She will grow up knowing three languages, a true citizen of the world. A world which will adore her. Our perfect little daughter.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Angela listened as Emmy spoke, tears of joy leaking from her eyes as she stroked Emmy’s hair.
“I love you so much, Em,” Angela said, her voice shaky with emotion. “And Lee- I still can’t believe I’m actually going to have your baby.”
“I know,” I said, kissing her gently. “It amazes me every time I think of it. Who would have even thought it was possible?”
“It is a miracle,” Emmy agreed, still resting her head on Angela’s bare belly. Her voice was dreamy, lost in the moment. “I could never have imagined this. We are going to have a baby,” Emmy said, rubbing her cheek against the smooth skin of Angela’s tummy. “Our little girl… We are so lucky…” she said, her voice trailing off as she turned to kiss Angela’s belly button.
Angela was the center of attention that night in the bath, and later when we made love afterwards. Emmy and I caressed her, kissed her, held her. We told her without words how much we loved her and how blessed we felt that she was part of our family, and bearing our baby. When we finally fell asleep, Angela was snuggled in the middle, her two wives holding her from either side.
I skipped the gym the next morning, preferring to stay in bed. I wasn’t sleepy, just enjoying the feeling of the two most beautiful women in the world sleeping beside me. Marveling at the idea that Angela was carrying my baby- our baby- and that it was really going to happen, I felt my own silent tears of joy on my cheeks.
I thought about Emmy’s reaction, and how she had been so full of love and giddy with happiness at the idea of Angela’s pregnancy. Biologically, the child was the product of DNA from Angela and me, but Emmy certainly didn’t seem bothered by that at all. As far as she was concerned, the baby belonged to the three of us.
Angela was of the same mind. Several times she’d commented that the baby was three times as lucky as most, since she was going to have the love of three mothers. Angela clearly believed that Emmy was just as much part of the picture as I was.
Lying there in bed, listening to the slow, steady breathing of the two mothers-to-be as they slept, I imagined that the reverse was also going to be true. The child that Emmy was going to give birth to would be Angela’s daughter as well. Angela would kiss little Celeste’s scraped knee and put on the Band-Aid just as readily as she would do for little Leonora. They might not be the twins that Angela had been hoping for as far as birthdays go, but I couldn’t imagine Angela loving one child any less than the other.
Lost in thoughts of how the family dynamics would work, I barely noticed when Angela woke up.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“How amazing a mom you’re going to be,” I said, which was true. “And how our little girls are going to be surrounded by love.”
Angela’s sweet smile told me I’d said the right thing. Her expression soft, she said, “Yes, they will. Like I am,” she added. “Thank you, Lee. Thank you, and Emmy, for giving me this.”
The slender hand that had been resting on Angela’s middle gave a little tug, and Emmy said, “Angie, thank you. You have brought so much to our lives, so much love and compassion and care. You have made our lives better.”
This opened the floodgates again. Angela’s tears flowed freely as she felt herself overwhelmed with emotion. “I just… I love you two so much,” she managed to get out. She pulled Emmy’s hand tight against her belly, saying, “Our baby- she…”
Unable to get anything else out, Angela simply clung to Emmy and me for support as her emotions hit her like a tidal wave.
Stroking Angela’s hair and kissing her lovely face, I whispered, “Our baby will be beautiful, loving, and sweet, just like you.”
“Just like you,” Emmy repeated, kissing Angela’s shoulder while rubbing her tummy. “The sweetest, most loving little girl the world has ever known.”
Angela didn’t even try to speak. She let herself cry as we drew ourselves in tight, squeezing her in between us. Emmy and I murmured our love for Angela as we showered her with kisses.
Eventually Angela’s waterworks trickled to a stop, and she struggled to get free and out of bed. “I need to blow my nose,” she said. “I’m a mess!”
“A very beautiful mess,” Emmy said, letting Angela loose. “The most beautiful.”
Once Angela had disentangled herself and gone to the bathroom, Emmy snuggled up against me. “We will be parents,” she said, her voice dreamy. “Our baby will be so…”
“Our babies,” I corrected, putting my hand on Emmy’s belly. “Angela might have gotten pregnant first, but you won’t be far behind.”
Emmy sighed, and said, “Even if I do not, we will still have one,” she said. “And we will love her, whatever else happens.”
“You will get pregnant,” I said. “We always sort of knew it was going to be harder for you, but we’ll get you there. We’ll have our two little girls.”
“I hope so,” Emmy said. “But if we don’t, at least we will have one perfect little angel.”
Angela was dying to tell people that she was pregnant, but wanted to wait until we could do genetic testing to make sure the fetus was viable before announcing to the world that she was expecting. Our doctor had said that noninvasive DNA screening could be done as early as ten weeks, so that was our bridge to cross before we made it public.
We were operating under the ‘trust but verify’ paradigm with the genetic testing, too. We had made arrangements with a lab that was completely unaffiliated with the place in Seoul to do a baseline test on the three of us, then compare the fetal DNA. We considered it unlikely, but not a non-zero chance that the Korean lab might not have used my DNA to fertilize the eggs, or that the chromosomes may have been damaged in the process.
We were optimistic, but cautious. We really were in uncharted territory. Still, in our hearts we just knew that we were going to have a baby.
Emmy was a ‘no’ with her next visit to the fertility clinic, but she remained upbeat. “It is simply a matter of time,” she said with a shrug and a smile.
Angela seemed unable to help herself during that time. She had to be near Emmy whenever they were both home. She was always hugging Emmy, holding her hand, cuddling next to her on the couch. It was as if she needed some assurance that yes, Emmy was just as invested in this baby as she was. I guessed that it was Angela’s way of sharing, subconsciously needing Emmy’s touch in some sort of non-verbal communication.
But that isn’t to say that Angela turned into some sort of pile of emotional goo. No, she continued doing the same things as ever. She spent time on her influencing of social media, she hung out with Jenna, she went driving with me, same as always. Really, my cutting back at work had a bigger impact on our day to day lives than Angela’s pregnancy, at least in the first couple of months.
Lauren and Andrej’s wedding was beautiful. It was held outside in a private garden in Mountain View, the late fall weather perfect for the happy event. Plenty of Andrej’s relatives from Europe came over for the occasion, all dressed very formally, but acting like goofballs. Lauren’s side of the aisle didn’t have nearly as many family members, but a lot of friends and co-workers made up the difference.
Andrej and Lauren had evidently not told anybody that Emmy would be playing at the ceremony, and the surprise and amazement in the crowd was funny to see. When everyone was milling around, well over a dozen people took selfies with Emmy as she sat on a chair off to one side of the altar, strumming familiar melodies.
After everyone was finally seated and the actual ceremony started, Emmy switched to the traditional wedding march music as Andrej and his brother walked to the altar and waited.
Lauren looked lovely as she walked up the aisle with her father, dressed in a simple but elegant white gown. Her hipster piercings were missing and her makeup was classy but subdued, just right for the casual formality (if that makes any sense) of the ceremony.
After the vows were exchanged and the kiss made, the faces stuffed with cake and the bouquet thrown, the newlyweds took off in a limo for who-knows-where. We would see them in a couple of hours at the club, I knew, but for a while anyhow they were going for some privacy.
Angela and I said hello to the handful of guests that we knew while Emmy posed for more selfies, then we bolted for the condo to change clothes and get ready for the evening.
“I keep forgetting this photo is here,” Emmy said, admiring the nearly life-sized picture of Angela in the condo’s bedroom.
“We still need a naked picture of you,” Angela teased. “This one is here, Leah is in New York, but we don’t have a nude of you in Los Angeles. It seems wrong somehow.”
“Perhaps,” Emmy said with a smile. “But I am not the exhibitionist that you two are.”
Andrej had insisted that he would cover all costs for the club that night, so we had full staff and open bar (but we had put away the really high-dollar whiskeys). True to stereotype, Andrej’s European relatives really could put away the alcohol, making for a louder, more boisterous night than usual.
The guest list for the reception was larger than for the wedding itself, with a lot of tech industry notables there for the party.
In honor of the special night I gave up my table for the first time since the club opened, letting Andrej and Lauren rule the roost. Angela and I had a small table near the stage, where Emmy played more contemporary party music for the crowd.
Several times during the evening Andrej came over to our table and introduced me to this or that person, hinting that they wanted on the list.
Eventually the party wound down and we closed the place out. Andrej and Lauren had long since taken off- they had to be up early for their flight to Morocco for their honeymoon.
Back home in LA the next day, Emmy commented on what she’d seen at the club.
“It was Andrej and Lauren’s night,” she said as we ate a late lunch on the deck. “But everybody knew it was your domain. The way Andrej brought people to meet you- he was using you to- and I do not wish for this to sound demeaning of him- he was using you to climb the social ladder. By showing to his peers that he is in with you, he knows you and you have done him this enormous favor, he is saying, ‘I am connected.’”
“That is absolutely true,” I agreed. “But it works both ways. By him doing that, it also shows his peers that to know me is very desirable. It elevates the value of being on the club’s member list, right? So it’s a two-way street.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Emmy admitted. “And you think that you can replicate that here in Los Angeles with your new club?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “It’ll be different. The speakeasy is a place for insiders to meet and mingle with other insiders. Away from work, away from their screens. Don’t get me wrong- an incredible amount of business dealing happens there, but that’s the appeal. It’s self-reinforcing, because it’s an open secret. Insiders know, and know that other insiders know. The place in Hollywood? It’s going to be about seeing and being seen. It will hopefully be packed with celebrities and celebrity-adjacent who want to show off to the world that they know the good life.”
“Will you keep a table there?”
“No. Sandy has hired a couple of guys to be the maître d’s. Stolen them from other venues, actually, and they’ll be the gatekeepers. No, if we want to go, we’ll have to reserve a table just like everybody else,” I said.