“You’re going to have to wait. Nature takes her own sweet time.”
The way he holds me now, if he’s not the father of this child, he can definitely be the father of the next one. Or the one after. Or the one after that.
EPILOGUE
The hospital administrator was obviously unhappy at having so many people in the room at the birth. Sister Rebecca calmed her down and reassured her, though. After my beautiful boy popped out, the midwife said that it had been one of the quickest and easiest briths she’d seen.
That made me think hard about whether it’s something I would ever be willing to go through again. But then I saw him. Julius.
Yes, he’s a boy.
Carlo, Bruno, and Alessio all hugged each other and popped champagne bottles. The midwife and the hospital administrator both protested, but that was never going to do them any good. Soon enough, they came around and joined in with a toast or two.
Carlo asked if I would take a sip of champagne.
“No, are you kidding?” I reached out a hand. “Give me the fucking bottle.”
On the way home, Alessio raised the topic of paternity tests.
From the back seat, with Julius wrapped in a blanket, I call back, “Are you serious? Let’s wait until we have four or five, then we can start doing DNA tests, alright?”
Unable to keep all of the sulk out of his voice, Alessio says, “I want to know if he’s mine.”
I tell him, “Well, here’s the thing. He’s not.”
“What?”
“He’s not yours,” and I look at Bruno. “Or yours.” Carlo turns, grinning. I tell him, “He’s not yours, either.”
They all say, “What?” so loud I can hardly hear Mikey and Sister Tharpe laughing in the front.
I tell them all. “He’s mine.” then, “And he’s ours. Okay?”