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Authors: Avery Aster

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Rocco

Inhaling a deep breath, I tried to remain calm and count back from one hundred.

99, 98, 97, 96

That was what
Nonno
had urged me to do every time I felt the onset of a panic attack.

And
gurl
, was I feeling one right about then or what. In a good way.

Holy moly!

The idea that Jemma could be pregnant…I couldn’t possibly explain the emotions running through my body as I stood in line at the drugstore waiting to pay. All good. I wanted to break out into a song like in that Broadway musical we’d seen a few nights before, and start line-dancing up and down the aisles that my wife could be pregnant.

Staring at the blue-haired elderly lady ahead of me, she had in her basket canned fruit, joint cream for pain, and a protein shake which promised to build her bones. She fumbled with her coupons in her hand, demanding some of the items were on sale.

What did I have in my basket?

A pregnancy test! Correction, four pregnancy tests. We had to be sure. Didn’t we?
Nonno
predicted this would happen.

Well,
Nonno
sorta helped.

He’d said at our wedding, “Rocco, if you’re going to go monogamous with Luigi and Jemma then maybe you three should think about having a baby.”

“Not biologically possible. She can’t get pregnant,” I’d argued, telling him about Jemma’s chemotherapy.

Nonno
loved Jemma like she was his own granddaughter. Having a gay grandson like me come home one day and introduce him to my boyfriend and my girlfriend sorta sent
Nonno
on cloud nine.

Nonno
had loved my triad relationship. Thought it was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me, and I wholeheartedly agreed.
Luigi and Jemma have changed my life, brought me so many blessings. I’m blessed to have them.

“Miracles happen, son. Sure she can get pregnant.” He’d handed me a gold jar of cream. “This is a special blend I’ve prepared for Jemma. Rub it on her skin every morning and night. She’ll get pregnant.”

Aside from being a mental health doctor,
Nonno
was always a bit of a self-taught holistic practitioner. The neighbors called him a witch doctor. Either way, that was just
Nonno
.

I stepped up to the cashier and asked, “Which one works the best?”

“Hard to say. Try these two. They have a ninety-eight percent accuracy.” Her acrylic nails pushed them to the front.

I paid and head back to the hotel where I found Jemma drying herself off in the bathroom. Her wavy hair blew back and forth as she combed it. Kissed by the sun in Ibiza, it was golden in some areas. Beautiful.

Luigi was in a robe and drinking espresso. He sat at the table in the room’s living area with a focused expression set on his features. He didn’t speak but his eyes, hazel and brilliant, always said enough to me. We were both on edge.

“Jemma, I got you the test.” I placed two boxes next to the sink.

“I’m not taking it,” she stated and continued getting herself dressed.

“Of course you’re taking them,” I argued and crossed my arms in the doorway.

“Do you two really want this?” Her eyes became glassy.

Trying to relax, I wrapped her in my arms and shushed her.

“Why are you getting upset, Jemma? It’s just a test,” Luigi said as he came into the bathroom.

“Answer my question. Do you two want
this
?”

“A
bambino
?” I clarified.

She nodded.

Glaring at Luigi, I hoped he’d say what I wanted to hear.

“
Sì
,” he replied. “I want us to be a family. Whatever that looks like for us.”

“We already are. We don’t need a child to define that for us.” Jemma wouldn’t let up.

“For me, Jemma, take the test. If it comes out you’re not pregnant, we’ll forget we ever brought this up and make our way to the airport.”

Our flight back to Italy was leaving in a few hours.

“Listen, fellas. I get you’re both sad our holiday is coming to an end. Berlin. Paris. Moscow. We’ve had fun. But I have to get back to work.” She tossed the pregnancy tests in the trash.

Oh, brother.

Luigi reached down and pulled them back out. Jemma could always say no to me but to Luigi, not so much. He stepped forward and I pulled back, giving him space. He kissed her on the lips, shoved the boxes in her hands and then said, “Jemma. Damn you. Take the test. Now.”

“Fine. Get out. Let me pee.” She pushed us out of the bathroom.

I heard the boxes being opened and the rummaging of the instructions.

“Do you want us to help you?” I asked through the crack in the door.

“
Grazie
. No. Give me two minutes.”

We waited.

Two minutes later, she opened the door. “I can’t look at the sticks. You look and tell me.”

“Okay.” I went to go into the bathroom but she stepped out and closed the door.

“Before you go in there…I want to ask you both something and you better be honest with me here.”

Luigi nodded.

“
Sì
, of course,” I agreed.

“Let’s assume I am indeed pregnant. Are we going to get the kid tested to see which of you is the
padre
when he or she is born?”

“I dunno.” I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“One of you is the
padre
. One of you isn’t. Will that change the love you have for the baby if you aren’t?”

I drew a quick breath. “No. Not in the slightest.”

“Luigi?” She eyed him, waiting for an answer.

“I assumed if you got pregnant, Rocco would stay home with the
bambino
until it goes off to school.”

“Right,” I said. “Just as we’d talked about.”

“And that we’d raise the child with the understanding that it has two daddies. Not just one.”

“I don’t think we should ever get the baby tested to see who he or she is related to. It won’t make a difference. We’re going to love this baby like our own because it will be ours.” Tears streaked my face.

“
Bueno
,” Jemma said, and she opened the door.

My heart lurched into my throat as I rushed in and grabbed the stick. “How do you read this thing?” I shouted.

She leaned up against the door. Luigi came up behind her. I held it out to both of them and asked, “What does this symbol mean?”

“Silly, I’m pregnant.” She smiled.

Huge hugs to my family George, Pauline, and Adam for loving me. Thank you to my friends Shane, Julie, Sara, Kelly, Shari, Edward, Manuel, Brenda, Holly, Pat, Michele, John, Ron, Nicole, Nackie, Bailee, Hector, and Lynn for not taking it personally when I’m locked up in my cave writing.

Fashionista praise to Jennifer, Christine, Joe, Adam, and Lesly for helping with my fashion show references.

Author love to my beta-readers Nicole and Miss Diamond. And much praise to Kristin and Becky at Hot Tree for editing this novel.

New York Times
bestselling author Avery Aster pens
The Manhattanites
, a contemporary erotic romance series of full-length, stand-alone novels, and the naughty new adult prequel companion series
The Undergrad Years
. As a resident of New York’s Upper East Side and a graduate from New York University, Avery gives readers an inside look at the city’s glitzy nightlife, socialite sexcapades and tall tales of the über-rich and ultra-famous.