Washing Angela’s hair that night in the hotel room’s claw-footed tub, Emmy said, “You seem very tense tonight, baby. What is wrong?”

“I’m not tense, I’m- well, yeah, I am tense, I guess,” Angela said. “I’m on an emotional roller coaster. Today, just like that, Lee bought that apartment for me. That was amazing, and I still can barely believe it. It just doesn’t seem real, but I’m also really worried about tomorrow, and…”

“Shh, my love,” Emmy said, taking Angela in her arms. “Everything will be O.K. The baby is strong and healthy, and in a few short months she will be our first child,” Emmy said, kissing Angela’s shoulder.

I knelt beside the tub and dipped my hand in the water, resting it on Angela’s tummy. “Em’s right, Ange,” I said. “I’m sure the test results for our baby will be perfect. I’m also sure they’re going to say that Emmy is coming along just fine, too. Everything is going to be alright.”

“I wish I had the confidence you two have,” Angela said. “I’m just… worried, you know?”

“I understand,” Emmy said, sweeping Angela’s long, dark hair aside. Kissing Angela’s neck, Emmy added, “I do. And I must confess that I am a little bit anxious as well. But much more than that, I am happy that our baby is growing strong and healthy inside your beautiful belly. Our child, Angie. Our perfect little baby.”

Angela turned around in the tub to face Emmy, her expression still one of worry. Emmy cupped Angela’s pretty face in her elegant inky-black hands and kissed her, softly, tenderly.

“Angie, we love you, and we love the child you are carrying. Tomorrow afternoon we will go to the clinic and they will tell us that everything looks good and we will be mothers soon,” Emmy said.

I leaned over and kissed Angela’s smooth shoulder. “Babe, Em’s right. We have no reason to think there’s anything wrong. You’re young and healthy and strong, you’ve been taking care of yourself, and eating well, too. No baby could ask for more than that from her mother.”

Angela gave the two of us a grateful smile. “You’ll be with me when they do the testing, right?”

“Of course we will,” I said. “And you and I will be there when they test Emmy. We’re all in this together.”

“This is us, Angie. This,” Emmy said, indicating the three of us, “We are family. Three of us, lovers, yes, but also partners in life. You and Leah, you both make my life better and I treasure you both more than I can say. I am…” Emmy said, trailing off at a loss for words as her emotions welled up and tears leaked from her eyes.

I stroked Emmy’s wet hair and used my thumb to wipe a tear off her cheek. Angela had Emmy’s hands in her own, tears rolling down her own cheeks.

“Em, you and Lee- I can’t even imagine life without you guys anymore. This, us having babies, us making our lives together… it’s what I want. I love this. Everything else is so perfect, I want our babies to be-” Angela said, stopping to wipe her tears away. “I want our babies to be just as perfect as everything else.”

“They will be, babe,” I said. “They will be.”

Lying in bed that night, Emmy and Angela talked about the new apartment, shying away from the subject of the testing the next day. Emmy asked for the fourth and fifth bedrooms to be converted into a studio, and of course Angela agreed. They talked about where to fit a small work space for me, and what kind of plants would make sense for the terrace- stuff like that.

“We’ll need to keep two of the smaller bedrooms for the girls, when they get a bit bigger,” Angela said. “So they can have their own rooms when we’re here in London.”

I just listened to the sound of their voices as the two chatted away like that for a while, feeling them cuddled up against me, enjoying the love and warmth from both sides.

I was surprised to find Angela in the middle when I woke up. I hadn’t felt Emmy move over, but that was fine. It made it easier to slip out for my morning run without waking either of them. It was dry but colder that morning, with frost on the grass in the parks. I felt myself looking around differently than I had the day before, realizing that I’d mentally shifted from merely being a tourist to now thinking about London as a town I was going to live in, at least part of the time. How much of the time had yet to be determined, but it was going to be enough that I’d need to start thinking of myself as a local.

Angela was awake when I got back to the room, but hadn’t gotten out of bed. She whispered, “Oh! Your lips are cold!” when I gave her a good morning kiss.

“It’s cold this morning,” I whispered back before taking a quick shower.

When I stepped back into the room, Angela was sitting up against the headboard, her iPad in her hands. “I’m looking for interior designers,” she whispered. “I want to get started right away.”

Nodding, I threw on some sweats and a T shirt and grabbed my laptop to catch up on work for a bit. We had nothing on our schedule until our appointment at the clinic and suddenly no need to see London in the next couple of days- after all, we were no longer tourists, right?

When Emmy woke up the three of us went back to that same egg restaurant for breakfast.

“We’re going to have to find someplace like this by our new place,” Angela commented, mirroring my thoughts from earlier. “Someplace we can walk to from our apartment.”

Angela’s worries from the night before seemed to have vanished, her naturally happy nature reasserting itself.

After breakfast we went to the office of one of the designers that Angela had identified in her search earlier, but they seemed as if they were just furniture and drapes people and weren’t really capable of tackling a full-scale project like ours.

Undeterred, Angela directed the cab to the next one on her list. “These designers, their style seems to be a little more about, um, world influences, I guess? The pictures on their web site don’t seem as, well, as contemporary as the last guys.”

“That sounds perfect for us,” Emmy said.

“Well, yeah, but I’m not sure it’s perfect for the apartment. I mean, the architecture…” Angela protested.

“We will see if they can do the project,” Emmy assured her. “If they are any good, they will take the site as well as our preferences into account.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Angela conceded. “Hey, maybe we can talk Luisa into coming over and helping us buy art when the house is ready?”

“I imagine she would be willing to help,” Emmy agreed.

The second meeting went much better, and when Angela showed them the photos she’d taken of the partially finished space, the impeccably-dressed and obviously gay designer grew very enthusiastic.

“My partner is currently in New York,” he said. “But he’s an architect and would absolutely enjoy a challenge such as this,” he said, scrolling through the pictures on Angela’s phone. “Simon will be back in London after the first. We would need to do a site inspection, of course, before we can even begin to develop any ideas.”

“So something like this is within your purview?” I asked.

Looking vaguely offended that I’d even suggest otherwise, he said, “This is exactly the type of project we enjoy most.”

Satisfied that William and Simon would at least be able to get the ball rolling, we left for our appointment at the clinic, which turned out to be a discreetly marked office in what would be called a brownstone in New York. I don’t know what buildings like that are generically called in Marylebone, but the clinic blended into the street with no fanfare.

The receptionist recognized Emmy immediately, as most people did by this point, but was completely professional. We were immediately ushered into a private waiting room, away from any potential prying eyes or gossip reporters, I guess.

Emmy’s ultrasound showed a tiny little gestational sac, but combined with the simple blood test it confirmed that she was definitely pregnant and her little bundle of cells was doing what it should.

Angela nearly died of fright at the giant amniocentesis needle, but with Emmy and me holding her hands she got through it just fine. The ultrasound, though, that was magic. We could see the little fetus in its placenta, and as the doctor moved the wand around Angela’s tummy we could make out rudimentary features.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Do you want to know the sex?” the doctor asked.

I looked at Angela and squeezed her hand.

“Yes. Please,” Angela said, her voice a bit shaky.

Unaware of the emotional drama we were facing if it was a boy, the doctor moved the wand a bit.

“She’s a little girl,” the doctor said, angling the wand so we could get a better view on the monitor.

I squeezed Angela’s hand and she squeezed it back, relief washing over her face, which looked so very young in her vulnerable emotional state.

After the doctor left and Emmy and I helped Angela get dressed, the relief was too much for Angela and she burst out in tears again. Emmy took Angela in her arms and comforted her, while I wrapped the two and held them tight until the sobbing ended. There was nothing I could say that would communicate how much I loved the two of them any better than that simple contact would do, so I stayed silent.

Back in what I’d learned was called the consultation room, the doctor said that everything looked good with both pregnancies and she saw no need for alarm. She said that she understood the genetic material was to be sent immediately to the lab in Salt Lake City for more advanced analysis, but suggested that labs there in London could do as good a job and be more convenient.

There was no way we were about to explain the issues to her, so we simply said that we had already been working with the lab in Utah and continuity made sense. Accepting that, the doctor suggested we return in a month and a half for Emmy’s next check-up and her amnio, but we said we’d be back home in Los Angeles by then and our local clinic would do the job.

“Dios mío, you guys, I was so worried,” Angela said in the cab, holding both my hand and Emmy’s.

“I wasn’t,” I lied. “Like I said last night, every factor is working in little Junior’s favor.”

“When can we pick out a name?” Angela asked. “Is it still too soon?”

“It is certainly not too soon to think about names,” Emmy said with a laugh.

Angela gave Emmy a grateful smile. “I have been thinking about names already,” she confessed.

“So have I,” Emmy admitted. Looking at me, she said, “None of the choices included the word ‘junior’.”

Laughing, I opened the cab door for Angela and Emmy to exit, making sure to grope each of them as they passed, but their heavy winter clothing diminished the effect.

I can’t say that I was too surprised to see Emmy’s mother waiting for us in the hotel’s small lobby. She rose from her chair by the fireplace when we entered, heading straight for Angela.

“I can see that you’re smiling,” she said as she took Angela’s hands and looked her up and down. “This must mean good news at the doctors office, yes?”

“Very good news,” Angela said. “For both my baby and Emmy’s.”

“I am so very glad to hear it, but not a bit surprised,” Mrs Lascaux said, before turning to her daughter. “Émeraude, my princess. I understand it is early in your pregnancy yet, but everything is going well?”

Emmy switched to French, suggesting that we go to our room to discuss in private. Emmy’s mom nodded in agreement, then tilted her head to Edouard to come along as we all crowded into the hotel elevator.

Emmy and Angela told Emmy’s mom everything that the doctor had said and that they’d seen on the sonograms. Angela handed Mrs Lascaux the prints from the ultrasound machine, pointing out the barely distinguishable ears and little tiny hands and feet.

While the three were chatting away, I wandered over to Edouard. “Is Emmy’s dad in town?” I asked.

“Yes, Ms Farmer. He stayed at the hotel to give the Madame time with her daughter and daughter-in-law,” he replied in the same low voice I’d used.

“I’d like to talk with him about some things, if he has the time,” I said.

“I am certain that he would be delighted,” Edouard said, pulling out his phone to text Emmy’s dad.

Plans were quickly made for Angela and Emmy to go out for an early dinner with Emmy’s mom, and I would have dinner with Mr Lascaux.

When I gave the cabbie the name of the place I was to meet Emmy’s dad, he asked, “That’s the pub right by the Ritz, innit?”

“Sounds about right,” I agreed, because of course Emmy’s parents would stay at the Ritz.

Emmy’s father was waiting for me inside, seated at one of the tables near the wall. They weren’t really booths, but as close as that pub had. Seeing that he had a pint of dark beer in front of him already, I stopped at the bar and got myself a Gin Sling and a bottle of sparkling water.

“I hear the doctor visit went well today,” Mr Lascaux said when I sat down. His lack of greeting didn’t seem strange or awkward at all, I realized. It was the sort of thing that people who are very familiar with each other would do, and yet another subtle sign of his acceptance of me.

“Yeah, the girls both checked out just fine. The babies are right on track.”

“This is monumental.”

“Honestly, from what little I know about Night Children pregnancies, there’s still a fairly high risk of miscarriage compared to baseline humans,” I said. “But so far, so good.”

“There is always a risk,” Mr Lascaux agreed, nodding.

We made idle chat about what to order to eat for a few minutes. After I came back from the bar, I got straight to the point.

“We just bought a place here in London,” I said. “It’s the penthouse in a newly remodeled high-rise on the South Bank, and it’ll probably take the better part of a year before it’s move-in ready. We bought it because we wanted to be close to you and Emmy’s mother in Paris, but not so close we would be potentially stepping on your toes.”

Mr Lascaux took a long sip of his Guinness, thinking about what I’d just said. “You understand that our borders do include the UK, and we could not countenance your recruiting on our lands.” He said it in a simple, matter of fact sort of way. Not confrontational or anything like that, just a simple statement of fact.

“And that’s why Paris was completely off the table,” I agreed. “London gives us enough separation to allow, um, deniability. We would not look to expand our nation at your expense in any way, and if we bring a few of our people over it would be as our, well, our retinue, I guess.”

“That is acceptable,” Mr Lascaux nodded. “You may bring as many of your people as you wish, and they may speak to mine, but attempts to recruit will not be tolerated.”

“Consider it a signed agreement,” I said as the waitress brought our food.

A few minutes later, after complimenting the pub’s fish and chips, Mr Lascaux asked, “Our granddaughters- yes, we have discussed Angela’s baby, and as you made it clear last week, Emmy considers it her child as well and so shall we- we would like to teach them the old ways. This is no small task, nor is it quickly done.”

“We haven’t discussed it explicitly, but I get the feeling that Emmy expected it to be the case,” I said. “Reading between the lines, I think that’s at least part of why Angela wanted to get a place here in Europe."

“It was Angela’s idea to buy here in London?” Mr Lascaux asked, surprised.

“At first she suggested to Emmy that we could look for a place in Paris, but Emmy vetoed that idea,” I said. “The whole ‘stepping on toes’ thing.”

“Yes, I can see how she would be sensitive to that,” he mused. “Of course, as the Lascaux princess, she would not be, but as the queen of the Farmer Nation…”

“We call it the ‘New Nation’,” I said. “To emphasize that it’s a break from the old cultural norms as much as anything.”

“Simple, but sometimes that is a virtue,” he said with a rare smile. “And yes, as a queen of the New Nation, Émeraude would need exceptional dispensation to set up her own residence in another nation’s center of power. As you say, London is far enough from that center to offer… breathing room for both parties.”

“I think that your place in Fallbrook does that for us in California as well,” I said, making it clear it was a two-way street.

“Yes, I think you’re right,” he agreed thoughtfully.

“So, yeah, your granddaughters. We’ve talked a little about it, and there’s thinking the girls can stay with you and Emmy’s mom, maybe a few days now and then, long weekends or something when they’re little, maybe the whole summer when they get a bit older. I’m sure Mamá and Papá Castro are going to want their share of the girls’ time, though,” I said with a smile.

“Yes, I would imagine so,” Mr Lascaux said, his voice gentle. “We had hoped that the princess would find a suitable day walker with whom to form a family, but we never could have imagined this. We never could have imagined you, and even less that Angela would join the two of you to make your household that much more complete.”

“I certainly couldn’t have seen this coming,” I agreed. “But I’m very glad it did.”

“As are we,” Emmy’s father said.

After dinner, Emmy’s dad and I walked down Piccadilly with no real goal in mind, just talking amiably about various things. Business mostly, his and mine. He once again reiterated his offer to sell me the car dealerships, and once again I told him that it was a line of business that I simply didn’t know, and would hate to jump in and fail.

“I don’t believe that’s much of a risk,” he said as we watched some kids with brightly colored Mohawks and spray-painted leather jackets go by, staring at us as if we were aliens. “They are reasonably self-sufficient, and you seem to have an excellent sense for everything you take on.”

“Taking new things on- that’s part of it,” I admitted. “I promised the girls I’d spend less time with work as their pregnancies advance, and of course when the babies arrive.”

“I regret that I didn’t spend more time with the princess when she was small,” Mr Lascaux confessed. “I left her almost entirely to her mother and instructors, and as a result, our relationship is… more formal than I would like. Yes, there were reasons that seemed wise at the time, but I do regret some of our choices.”

“I won’t be able to ignore work entirely,” I said, “But I want to spend as much time as I can with the girls as they’re growing up. My childhood… Dad was deployed more often than not, and then he was killed when I was eleven, so it was just Mom after that to raise me and Tiff. She had to work, you know, to support us all… It was tough for her, but she did what she could. Honestly, looking back on it now, I don’t even know how she managed.”

Mr Lascaux was listening to me ramble, using non-verbal clues to show that he was paying attention as I spoke. I admired his ability to do that, and I told him so.

“You may think that Emmy and your relationship is, well, distant,” I said. “But I see a lot of your character traits in her, too. I think she learned more from you than you realize. One of the things that she does so very well, and I’ve seen you do it, is really pay attention. Emmy doesn’t miss a thing, and from what I’ve seen, neither do you.”

Mr Lascaux smiled at the compliment. “This is one of the old teachings. One of the things we would like for our granddaughters to learn.”

Changing the subject, I said, “I’d like to figure out how to get the girls citizenship of as many countries as we can. Emmy’s baby will automatically have French citizenship and Angela’s Colombian, by virtue of their birth mothers, right? I have no idea how we’re going to get me on the birth certificates as ‘father’,” I said, making air quotes, “or if we’ll have to have the babies be born in the US for their American citizenship. In a perfect world we could get everybody dual or triple or even quadruple citizenship, so they could live wherever they chose when they get older.”

“These things are always negotiable,” Mr Lascaux said. “It’s a matter of who you talk to and how much it costs.”