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“I am here, yes,” Maurice said. “Don’t forget to say hi to Heather, too.”
Mr. Howard ignored his joke and bent down to squeeze my hand. “I brought this for the child. What is it?”
“There’s no tail, so I’m pretty sure it’s a human,” Brady said.
Mr. Howard gave him a patient look. “A boy, I’m assuming from the blue blanket?”
“He’s a boy, that’s right.”
Maurice handed the baby to Jason. He was so small in his arms, but the massive SEAL was tender and gentle with him. Maurice immediately took out his phone and snapped a photo of his new husband holding him.
“Oh, I can’t wait to have one of our own,” he said.
Mr. Howard reached in to squeeze the baby’s cheek. “And what are we calling this future actor, hmm?”
I smiled at Rogan, Brady, and Asher. I hadn’t told them yet, and they hadn’t asked. “His name is Mark. Mark Eugene Hart.”
Mr. Howard swung his head around. “Eugene?”
“I think Eugene is a beautiful name,” I said.
“Mark Eugene,” Asher said, tasting the words. “I like it.”
“His initials are M-E-H,” Brady said. “Hey, do you like Heather’s baby?” He shrugged. “Meh.”
Everyone laughed at that. “Stop it, you’ll ruin the name!” I said, but I was laughing as hard as anyone.
“Thank you, my dear,” Mr. Howard said. He kissed the back of my hand. “I’m sure he will grow up to be a fine young man. He looks like a young Adrian Grenier. And speaking of acting, I hear that your agent at William Morris is champing at the bit to submit your headshot to Netflix. There are several upcoming pilots they want you to audition for. Only when you’re ready, of course.”
“Are you?” Brady asked. “Ready, I mean?”
“Don’t rush her,” Rogan warned. “It’s been one day.”
“I’ve actually been giving it some thought,” I said. “And I have some thoughts about those Netflix pilots…”
Epilogue
Heather
One Year Later
I woke up in our king-sized bed, surrounded by my three boyfriends. I had slept through the night, uninterrupted.
Wait a minute. I slept through the night?
I sat upright in bed. Over in the crib, Mark was sleeping soundly. He hadn’t woken up at all during the night. I couldn’t remember the last time that happened.
Rogan, who was laying on his back next to me, slowly raised a finger to his lips. “Don’t ruin the peace,” he whispered to me.
I smiled and cuddled up against him. “Maybe the worst of it is over, huh?’
He kissed me in my hair. “Maybe so.”
It had been a rough couple of months. When we first brought Mark home, he slept like an angel every single night. Even when he woke up early, he wiggled around in his crib and giggled at the mobile hanging above him. He rarely cried.
All of that changed when he was nine months old. Now he rarely slept through the night. We had tried every trick in the book, but so far, nothing had worked. The lack of sleep was beginning to wear all of us down. I had offered to take Mark into the guest bedroom so that he wouldn’t disturb the men’s sleep, but the three of them insisted they stay with me. If one of us was going to be kept up at night, then all of us would, too.
I thought that was a dumb sacrifice for them to make, but it was nice to know we were all in this together, for better or for worse.
