“That must be a motherhood thing.”
“I guess so. I don’t know. I’m only on day one of this and there’s really no manual.”
Josie made it a point to crane her body around Laura and Jillian to look at the stack of parenting books and infant care novels on her bedside, all provided by Dylan, Mike, and Dylan’s parents. “I beg to differ—there are plenty of manuals.”
Laura rolled her eyes and sniffed with a derisive look. “Those will tell me the basics but no one tells you that minute by minute, hour by hour, you have to make this up on your own. You have to wing it.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned in. “It’s like…the breastfeeding…nobody really explains what it feels like when that baby latches on or how, no matter how many consultants come in and try to help you with lactation, it’s on you. You have to figure out what works for your baby, so I’m not kidding when I say there is no manual for this. There are just people who wrote some books to give you some ideas.”
This was not the conversation Josie had expected to have with her best friend today. What was she supposed to say back? She had nothing in common on this one, and so she defied her own natural state of talkativeness and just nodded. This was her future with Laura, wasn’t it? Lots of nodding, lots of absolutely not understanding what Laura would be going through, and a growing divide as she watched her best friend focus her entire life on this child and on the family that she was building with Dylan and Mike.
It made Josie feel lowly for the first time since she’d ever met Laura. It didn’t take away from how thrilled she was for her best friend. It didn’t take away from the feeling of hope and excitement and tenderness she felt when she looked at Jillian, but it tapped into a new set of emotions that were dangerous inside.
She’d spent years—decades, really, almost two decades—since her father had died doing nothing but escaping instability and seeking a quiet, peaceful existence. A safe existence that gave her the time to think. And all that escaping and seeking had ended—disappeared, really—the moment the baby was born. Josie had reevaluated everything that she’d been doing as an adult, through the lens of watching other people, like her best friend, grow up.
It made her want to do anything but. It made her want to grab Alex and f**k him in the on-call room, made her want to go spend outrageous amounts of money that she didn’t have. It made her want to go on a spur-of-the-moment trip to Paris because she could—and Laura couldn’t. Josie could do all of those things, and now she couldn’t do them the same way.
It felt as if her friend’s choices had stripped her of assumptions and deep, deep down in an abyss inside her that had a bottom she hadn’t touched yet, she knew that this was good.
But on the surface? It was chaotic and overwhelming and too much for her to handle right now.
“How are you feeling?” Josie knew damn well it was a stupid question, but it was all she could think to ask. Her eyes were riveted to the baby, a pinkish-purple creature with swollen eyelids and little dots of baby acne all over her face. She didn’t look like anyone until Laura pulled the tiny, thin cotton cap off her head and smoothed the little strands of wavy blonde hair.
Was Mike the father? This was going to drive Josie a little crazy until she knew. Though it really wasn’t her business to know, Laura and the guys had made it her business, so now she was eager to learn the truth.
“The testing,” Laura said quietly, “is already in progress. Her blood type’s not conclusive, so we had to send it for DNA matching after all.”
Josie nodded, flustered by how quickly this had all happened. “Oh…..” Her voice trailed off. Nowadays, the lab didn’t have to give up if the mathematics of Mom’s blood type plus Possible-Dads’ blood types turned up an inconclusive result. A simple prick of the guys’ fingers, and the baby’s, plus a bunch of paperwork, was all they needed. For a few hundred dollars out of pocket and about a week or three of waiting, Jillian’s idyllic life of three parents, all showering her with adoration, could still be shattered. Because it was one thing to imagine happily-ever-afters…once they really knew, for certain, that it was Mike or Dylan, what would that mean? How compassionate and understanding can one man be when he imagines himself to be a biological parent and then science brings all that to a screeching halt with DNA analysis? Does the science override the love?
Whoa. What made her think that either man would love the baby less if he weren’t the bio dad? That was one hell of an assumption. Not an unreasonable one in most situations—plenty of guys harden their hearts and aren’t able to accept not being the father. Dylan and Mike weren’t most guys, though, and this was not most situations. They had proven themselves to have the capacity for a love that was so great it extended beyond convention. Perhaps, too, they could love, equally, the little girl who had come into the world in a most typical manner, into a most atypical family structure. Regardless of whose DNA she shared.
And only Josie would know the true identity of the bio dad, anyway—unless the three changed their hive mind at a future time. Josie had been analyzing the baby’s features to get clues to her paternity. Thick blonde hair? Must be Mike’s. Blue-black eyes that darkened by the hour? Dylan’s. Long, slim surgeon’s fingers? Mike’s. A little chin that jutted out like a fighter’s? Dylan’s. It was maddening. Deep in her thoughts as she stared at the baby in Laura’s lap, a greater, meta-awareness that maybe no one else was doing this struck Josie between the eyes.
Maybe no one else was trying to figure this out.
Maybe it was just her.
She knew it would take a while to learn the answer. Right now that felt about right. A baby’s beginning should be about the baby and not about the wondering. None of the three really seemed to care—it was a formality that Laura wanted out of the way. Respecting that was part and parcel of respecting Laura and the three of them.
Josie didn’t think twice about how to respond, even if her brain was cluttered with her own musings about her internal process in sorting all this out. She put her hand on Laura’s and smiled, catching her tired green eyes. “It’s okay, Laura. We will do whatever we need to do and make sure that all the paperwork is taken care of. You don’t need to worry about that right now.”
“The only problem,” Laura said, “is that the nurses here told me I need to sign the birth certificate within ten days of Jillian’s birth. So I don’t know if the tests will be back in time for that.”