How could it not? After all, I’m doubly blessed, doubly lucky, and doubly loved with Scott and Mike at my side.
Epilogue
Scott
Two years later.
“Do you think she wants peas and carrots or blueberry and banana?” I ask.
Mike surveys the tiny glass containers I hold in each hand. “Why not both?” he suggests. “We need to expand her flavor palette.”
“Gerry’s only one,” I say skeptically. “As long as she’s eating, I don’t care if she’s got a refined palette or not.”
“Well, when Geranium grows up and is one of those kids who only eats chicken nuggets and French fries, I’m blaming you,” my buddy retorts.
I laugh. “Fine. Fair enough.”
There are a lot of things I envisioned about a future with Mike as my best friend. Grocery shopping for our one-year-old baby, birthed by the woman of our dreams, was definitely not one of them. However, we’ve adjusted well to this untraditional little life of ours. Violet is our ultimate love and she adores both her daddies--more than either of us deserve, I think. And little Geranium is the most perfect being I’ve ever encountered. I wouldn’t trade our baby for anything.
Even if Mike and I still can’t agree on the groceries.
“Did Vi say she wanted soy milk or almond milk?” Mike asks in a distracted voice.
“Almond,” I say.
“No, I’m pretty sure it was soy.”
“Then why are you even asking?”
“I thought you made a list.”
“Have I ever made a list?”
Mike sighs and puts back the carton of soy milk. “I’m trusting you on this one,” he says, gesturing at me seriously with a carton of almond milk. “If I fuck this one up, I might be sleeping on the couch.”
“Good,” I say. “More room for Vi and I without you hogging a whole side.” (Investing in a California king was definitely a necessity when we all moved in together.)
On the way home, I brake so hard that Mike nearly goes flying into the dashboard. “What the hell?!” he shouts.
“I forgot the diapers!” I lament, as the car behind me honks furiously. “Oh, shit, we have to go back and get diapers. Vi’s gonna kill me.”
“We have tons of diapers in that one cabinet,” Mike says, gesturing at me to keep driving.
“Which cabinet?!”
We argue, albeit good-naturedly, all the way home. Mike and I have always looked like brothers, and acted like them too, but now, we’re practically twins. Thank God Violet decided that she loves both of us because life would be fucking awful otherwise. Sometimes, the only thing that can calm us down is being in her body. Our gorgeous girl’s willing curves and soft, breathy moans are the only things that can make our blood pressure decrease.
We pull into our spot in the parking garage and carry our groceries up. I liked my apartment, but the one that the three of us found together is amazing. It’s huge, drenched with sunlight, and close to NYU, where Mike and I still teach. Violet did end up getting accepted to Columbia, but took some time off school when she was pregnant with Geranium. She keeps saying she’ll go back any day now, but I know how much she loves being a mom and spending time with our sweet little girl. It’s fine. It’s not like we need the money, and our girl is a wonderful mommy to our daughter.
In fact, when we walk in the door, Violet is sitting on the floor with Geranium, playing a game. Gerry coos and giggles at her mommy, who peers out between her fingers. “I see you!” Violet cries as she removes her hands from her face. We play peek-a-boo every single day, but Geranium still giggles uproariously and claps like she’s surprised every time.
“Hi ladies!” Mike sings. He walks over to them while I start putting the groceries away. Geranium raises her pudgy little arms up, demanding to be held, and Mike obliges, taking her into his arms. I grin at the sight. I worried, at first, that I would be jealous--what if Geranium liked him more than she liked me? But there’s nothing more satisfying than seeing our daughter love my best friend as much as I do. Mike is a great guy and an amazing dad, and together, we can be a better, stronger father figure for our child.
While Mike is occupied with Geranium, Violet comes over to me and slips her arms around my waist. My stomach flip-flops just looking at her. God, she’s so beautiful; her curves became even more luscious after she gave birth, and she has a certain glow to her these days. I’m a lucky man.
“Hey, babe,” Violet whispers.
I kiss her, entwining my fingers through hers. “Hey, love,” I murmur back. “How’s your day been?”
“Good,” she says. “Grandma Rose and Grandpa Wilbur Facetimed us and we were very excited.”
“Did she blow kisses at them?” I ask.