They look at each other. Some silent communication passes between them. I just wait.
“A crib for what?”
I stare back at Silas. “What are cribs usually for?”
The realization dawns on both of them at the same time. I love to watch it. It's like the sun coming through the clouds. It's like seeing a parade at the end of the block, just as it turns into view.
“No way!”
“Are you for real?”
I nod happily, just about to burst with excitement.
“You're going to be fathers!”
They look at each other again. Owen pipes up first.
“Do we know whose…” Owen asks delicately.
“Does it matter?” Silas challenges.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Owen admits. “Well, you can change the diapers. You do like to be in the thick of things, right, Silas?”
Silas claps Owen in a big bear hug, squeezing until I hear his joints cracking.
“I'll take the diapers if you get up at 3 o'clock in the morning every day to feed the little rascal, sound good?”
“No way! You know I need my beauty sleep!”
“Okay, okay, okay,” I say, with my hands up. “There will be enough work for both of you, I promise. But that's up to me. It’s my job. I decide what gets done and who does it. Deal?”
I look at both of them seriously, pointing with my index finger so they know I really mean it.
“Well… no, I don't know —”
“I'm the boss. I'm the woman. And in this, you both answer to me, understand?”
They both dip their heads, going hangdog and obedient. I love it, this feeling of power pulsing through me. They both love me so much. I think they'll do anything to make me happy. And I’ll do anything to make our baby happy.
Silas comes closer to me, stroking my shoulders tenderly.
“Whatever you say, Mother Angel,” he murmurs sweetly. His lips cover mine, kissing me slowly with heartfelt tenderness.
I feel Owen's hands snaking across my belly, cupping around the fullness that's there.
“You can't feel it yet, silly,” I whisper. “It's too early.”
“So, the little guy’s just safe in there? Can't feel anything from out here?”
I raise my eyebrows. “What do you mean, exactly?”
Owen unbuttons the single button at the back of my dress, sliding the silk off my shoulders at letting it puddle on the floor. Silas's eyes widen as he inspects me hungrily, attuned to the tiny differences in me that already show. My breasts are fuller. My waist is slightly thicker. I don't look pregnant yet, but I do look solid.
He runs his thumbs over my nipples, drawing them into peaks. I arch my back into his touch, thrilled to feel goosebumps washing over me in waves.
“I mean, we don't have to be gentle with you or anything, do we?” Owen asks. I hear the smile in his voice.
“You better not!” I smile back. Gentle, with me? No way. I’m tougher than I look.