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While having a working lunch with Joliver a few days after the big announcement, I find his reaction to my new state simultaneously adorable and annoying. “No, allow me to do that, please, Madam,” he says as soon as I try to get up to take my plate to the sink. “No need to exert yourself in your condition—” I sigh heavily, but smile all the same as I sit back and watch him fret over me. “I can handle basic shores, John, I’m not enfeebled.” He grimaces, shakes his head. “But you made us lunch, it’s the least I can do—” “I warmed up leftover pizza and made salad—hardly a Herculean feat.” After stashing away our plates and bowls in the dishwasher, he walks back over to sit beside me, places a hand over mine on the table. “Forgive me, mum, it’s just been so long since you’ve had a baby and after what happened with Ryan, I’m nervous, is all.” “That’s very sweet of you to be concerned, but House said all is well so far, no risk of any issues whatsoever.” He smiles and blushes, then quickly kisses my cheek. “I’m just very excited for you and Sir Ken. What a nerdtastic little bairn you will have!” I shrug sheepishly, kiss him back. “Thank you. I’m sure you’re right. Penélope is already talking as if she and her sister will be the next Coens, making movies together forever.” Joliver beams. “I wouldn’t rule it out.” Holding up a finger, I stare at him with all seriousness. “I am once again counting on you and every Dweller to keep an eye out for her. Two of my daughters are sure to be an exponential handful compared to just the one.” Joliver gives me a mini salute. “It will be my pleasure as well as my duty, Dame Twiglet.” I chuckle and shoo him out of the nook booth so I can slide out. “Alright, time I got back to work upstairs,” I say, standing up and stretching. “Shakespeare doesn’t study itself.” “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you,” he says, opening up his laptop to update the shared schedule for everyone to see. “You carry on, Madam.” “Thank you. See you later, sweetie.” As I make my way down the hall and into the foyer, I notice a conversation carrying on behind the slightly open door of the front parlour. I slow down and tiptoe as I begin to pass by, but stop short when I recognize the voices of both my husband and my amoureux. “—just wondering what the usual symptoms were,” I hear Ken’s voice ask. “Since I’ve never actually been witness to this form of pregnancy before. I’ve heard Jon make jokes about it, but how did it work for you?” “Well, I will say that for me, it’s not entirely unpleasant,” Denis admits. “Mostly, I felt warmth in my chest, like a shot of whiskey,” he explains with a smile in his voice. “It may be very different for women, but for me, I quickly became much more… excité, libidineux, more horny, as you say—” “Orny?” Ken says, repeating Denis’ pronunciation. “Oh, oh, sorry, I see, I see,” he says with a laugh, interpreting despite the accent. “Well, that’s certainly something to look out for. “Yes, sometimes I found the only thing that made me feel better was, tsé, you know…” “Of course, I can understand.” Denis sighs. “I felt very fortunate to have two very willing partners to… take turns with me,” he says, his voice softened with an adorable tinge of embarrassment. “I wondered how long it would be before they got tired of me.” Ken’s warm, genuine chuckle makes me almost laugh myself. “From what I can tell, neither Madam nor Ryan will ever tire of you. Take it from me: Madam’s focus may shift around a bit over the months and years but she’s a loyal as they come. She does this thing every year for Christmas where she chooses one of us husbands to re-marry so to speak. We spend weeks preparing for a big ceremony and party with costumes and dancing and a huge feast and everyone is invited. In liu of gift-giving, we just gather together and celebrate our collective love.” “C'est merveilleux!” Denis says with awe. “Who will she re-marry this year, you think?” “Not sure yet, actually. Could be anyone. You shall see soon enough.” “I look forward to it.” With a big smile on my face, I decide to quit eavesdropping, but then Ken’s voice lowers surreptitiously. “I want to let you know, Denis, I think of you as a fellow husband at this point,” Ken says, his brotherly tone unmistakeable. I hold my breath, feel my heart ache at this confession, wonder what might be the look on Denis’ face. “I completely appreciate the special circumstance you have with our Madam and Ryan and how that requires an exceptional degree of tact and mutual love and understanding when it comes to labels and titles… but for my part, judging by her behaviour around you, and the way she regards you so highly, I have a fraternal sense about you being part of the Manse family. So, don’t ever be a stranger, mon ami. If you ever need advice or just someone to share a bottle of wine with once in a while, my door is open.” I wipe at the tears spilling over my cheeks, wish I could walk in and hug them both. It never fails to touch me—being witness to the brotherhood growing among my Dwellers, especially among my husbands. Sir Ken’s statement releases an unexpected rush of hormones through my blood, giving me a quick sweat. “That means the world to me, that you feel that way,” Denis says with deep sincerity as I tiptoe away. “Coming from you especially, it is a great honour, Monsieur—” *********** Right before dinnertime, I stand out on my balcony and breathe the slightly cooling autumnal breeze, watch the sun begin to make its daylight-savings-all-to-early dip toward the horizon. I watch as Jeffrey and Ryan make their way from their Guesthouse abodes across the courtyard toward the kitchen garden, greeting each other warmly as they head for the Big dinner table inside. I smile and take a deep breath, close my eyes, expecting a drop-in message from Stephen at any second to announce mealtime. “Oh hey, there you are,” I hear Stevezie say instead. “Dinner’s ready. Stephen made shrimp and grits!” I grin and turn around, hold open my arms so my husband walks right into them. I just squeeze as hard as possible for a good fifteen seconds, my cheek against his t-shirt-clad chest. He’s hot and smells of tomatoes and kitchen soap. He silently holds me a minute, kisses my head, rubs my back. “Steve?” “Hmm?” I tilt my head back to look up at him. “What do you think while you kiss me?” I ask sheepishly. He smiles generously. “Well, let me remind myself,” he says as he catches my lips in a halfway serious smooch. He hums, his lips deliciously vibrating against mine. He leaves a little extra kiss on the tip of my nose and winks. “Lagniappe,” I whisper. “Lagniappe,” he repeats, then sighs. “So that time, I was thinking how hungry you must be, so, like a good skirt, I kept it short enough to be enticing but long enough to cover the subject.” I giggle and shake my head. “You do read me well.” He gives me a strange half smile. “You seem surprised.” I sigh and rest my head on his chest again. “No, I’m really just glad my hypothesis was correct.” Stevezie gently lifts my head to face him again and he pouts at me. “Madam, you could’ve warned me there was going to be a test, I would’ve studied harder.” “Oh Stevezie, you always ace the tests, that’s why you’re my number one,” I say, finally releasing him so I can take up his hand and start leading him through the French doors into the bedroom. “I simply wouldn’t be me without you.” His hand tightens, tugs my arm a bit, stops me in my tracks. “Alright, what gives, Mamba? I wouldn’t be number one if I didn’t ask.” I pause before I turn back around to face him. He’s still smiling softly, as open and prepared for my response as Denis was the other day. I hesitate, idly swing his hand between us, and his expression grows heavy. “You’re OK, right?” he wonders softly, stepping closer to place his hand over my heart. “She’s OK, right?” “Oh, yes, of course, yes, we’re both OK, it’s not that.” He lets out a held breath, quickly kisses my cheek. “Thank God for that, sweetheart.” “No, I’m just… I’ve been burdened with complex considerations of late and my heart can only just bear it.” “Like what? Or can you tell me?” I stare at him evenly, feel his utter stability and poise in the face of my perennial Big Decisions. “What do you think of Denis?” I ask timidly. He instantly grins, almost laughs. “You only ever ask me that of potential husbands, so this feels like a trick question.” “It’s not.” Stevezie wrinkles his brow, tempering the grin into a serious smile. He answers very deliberately: “I think of him as a brother in good standing. He’s proven himself worthy of you over and over, and I respect that. He carried Penélope, opened your heart to expanding our family—which was no small feat. He’s a husband in every way except in name.” I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that will prevent the lump rising in my throat. “I’m so grateful to hear you say that.” I open my eyes again, even more gratified by my first husband’s completely sober expression. “You know, Ken said similar earlier today, so I was just wondering if… he was an accurate barometer.” With a few nods, Stevezie steps closer, puts a hand between my shoulderblades, begins to gently rub my nape. “Have you taken Ryan’s temperature yet, though?” I blink at him, genuinely taken aback that I hadn’t thought of it. Stevezie tilts his head. “I think you’d be far less tense if you really knew his take on your whole relationship. It’s clear you love Ryan so much that you don’t want to hurt him by playing favourites, but did you ever consider… maybe you might actually love him more than you think?” I swallow hard, bite my lower lip. “Wait, do you guys… love Ryan?” “YES, yes we do!” Stevezie says flatly, as if it were general knowledge. “We love him and we hate him—the very definition of being a brother. Actually, he’s unhateable, we just like kidding around.” My jaw drops, I cover it with my hand, and I feel my face heat up. Stevezie grins, places his hands on his hips, shakes his head at me. “He’s Kenning so hard all the time, you know. He’s Kenning almost as much as Sir Ken, that’s how hard he’s Kenning for you. Don’t you see that?” I shrug and nod at the same time, a bit disappointed at myself. I feel glitched out. “Oh, Mamba, Mamba, don’t blame yourself,” he says, pulling me into a hug as he effortlessly reads my mind again. He returns my earlier squeeze with interest, nuzzles my ear. “You’ve been dealing with a lot out there, I know… so many… horrifying new facts of life, terrible injustices… it’s hard to keep up with it all. It’s clouded your insight into your own heart.” The veil rips, the gap between the film frames splits, and I begin to cry then, while Stevezie holds me up, keeps me from sliding down to my knees on the floor. And he doesn’t shush me or hurry me, just lets me drain the abscess of despair that’s built up over many months. After several sobs, a few minutes of catching my breath, he walks me over to the bed so we can sit down. He rubs my back, my arms, warming me with his empathy and attention against the icy cold of real life. “You want to know what your only problem is, sweetheart?” my husband asks, his tone light and clear like a freshly plucked harp string. I look up at him as I wipe my red eyes with both hands. “You’re full of far more love than hate, always have been, and you can’t imagine how some people can be full of more hate than love… and that wounds you deeply. Shit, even when you hate something, you pay almost no mind to it until it’s right in your face, or if it’s causing harm to the innocent. But so many in this world seek out offences to be had, spend so much time and energy on ire and fear and try to spread it and multiply it all the live long day. I wonder if they’ve ever really loved anything their whole lives the way you do.” I hang my head a moment, sniffling, squeezing his hand in my lap. “Oh Steve… Steve… It’s all I can do to not despair. The only answer I have is to love you, and Jon and Stephen and Ken. And Tommy Lee and Jeffrey and Andy. Joliver, Denis, Ryan, and Pen… and all my Dwellers. I must sustain my spirit in here somehow. People depend on me out there.” Stevezie touches my chin and I lifts my head. He graces me with an even, solid resolve, smoothed with affection. “You can mourn, and you can rest, but we will not let you despair, alright? We’re here for you because you’re here for us. That’s always been our promise.” I nod, then lift my chin up defiantly. “Je promets. I promise.” “And hey, you clearly have enough hope in you to be carrying our new daughter right now. That takes courage and I’m sure all the love you can muster.” With that, he finally draws a smile out of me, and I see myself sparkle in his eyes. “Yes, well, I’m determined to express my love for everything and everyone who touches my heart. It’s my nature. I won’t be ground down.” “That’s my Mamba,” Stevezie says. “Now, if you’re not feeling big dinner table crowds right now, I’d be happy to go make you a plate and bring it up here—” “Thank you for the offer, but I think it’s healthier if I make an appearance at least. I don’t want everyone to think I’m ill lest the whole Manse freaks out about me in my special state.” He gives me a thumbs up. “You’re the boss,” he says, getting up and taking my hand. “I sure hope they saved some for us!”