Alex and Jordan switched Alex’s appointment to see a studio to an appointment to see a couple of two-bedroom apartments in the same neighborhood in Quincy. Quincy seemed like a good choice — the apartments were near the train, the schools were decent, and the neighborhood had a quiet and home-like feel despite being full of triple-deckers.

The rental agent, Nancy, showed them a three-bedroom on a hunch. It was just outside of their price range, but they could make it if they stretched. Alex’s first instinct was to absolutely and categorically refuse. He didn’t want to risk defaulting on their rent, and if they could get by with two bedrooms, why wouldn’t they?

Jordan pointed out that they could always add a roommate, if they needed to. In the meantime, having the extra space would be a godsend during the move, and until they needed to bring in a roommate, it would be good to have studio space for both of them. Alex demurred at the thought of having studio space for himself, but he could see the need to have space for Jordan to set up that wasn’t being grabbed at by little hands.

They signed the lease, with the intention of moving in on February 1. Alex’s stomach twisted and turned itself into a pretzel about it, but Jordan’s parents made a decent contribution in addition to what they’d already promised (“Because of the studio space, of course,” Cindy told him. George just sniffed). Jordan made a few big sales that let them save some money, too, and Alex wrote a few freelance articles about finance, so that brought a little more money in.

He got Jordan an appointment with his own doctor, Dr. Gutierrez. It hadn’t mattered much to Jordan which doctor he saw, and Gutierrez was happy to deliver both babies. Jordan’s baby was healthy as could be, and the doctor was happier with Alex’s progress now that he was sleeping better and getting therapy.

“Online therapy is still better than nothing,” he told them, “and a lot of people are getting very positive results. So good job, and I’m glad you’re doing better.”

The bank decided not to bring Chad back from his suspension, after a thorough review of Chad’s behavior and the incident about which Chad himself had complained. Alex was not asked to testify at all, but he was called into a meeting with Chad’s father, the VP of human resources, and Anna.

“We just wanted you to know that Chad Milton will no longer be employed by the bank,” the HR VP told him. “We’ve looked into all of the incidents, and not only did he harass you beyond what any reasonable employee would be expected to withstand, he has also quite simply not been doing his job. He’s been trading on his father’s position to bully and intimidate other people into doing his work for him, and that’s simply unacceptable.”

“It’s beyond unacceptable,” added Chad’s father, with a curl of his lip. “I’m deeply ashamed of my son. I knew he was spending a lot of time with you, and I hoped it was with a view toward getting back together with you. You’re a smart young man, and I think you were a good influence on him while you were together. Unfortunately, Chad made a different choice.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope, which he passed over to Alex. “This is meant as an apology, not a payoff. If you or your partner decide to press charges against Chad, no one is going to stop you. Believe me on this.” The grim set of his jaw told Alex all he needed to know.

Anna cleared her throat. “We’ve decided to promote from within to fill the position. Given that the bank already has someone who’s been trained on, oh, eighty percent of Chad’s position anyway, we figured we might as well give the role and the salary to the person who’s been doing the work. What do you say, Alex?”

Alex couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the formal offer. This promotion would bump him up several levels. He signed right away, because he wasn’t going to get an opportunity like this again. Chad had taught him that, and out of everything Chad had taught him, this was the thing that stuck out most.

He wasn’t so gauche as to check the contents of the envelope until he got back home that night. Once he did, and told Jordan about the promotion, they opened it together.

Alex couldn’t stop staring. Jordan had to walk away and splash cold water on his face.

Fifty grand was a lot of money. It definitely counted as stability, in Alex’s eyes, at least.

Alex and Jordan grew quickly as January raced toward June. They even got competitive about their baby bumps.

Alex carried a little lower, with a more even distribution. Jordan’s bump protruded right away, an in-your-face style of bump that matched his personality.

By contrast, the position of his placenta meant he couldn’t feel the baby move as much, whereas Alex could entertain himself by balancing things on the baby bump and watching them move around.

As the calendar moved over to June, Dr. Gutierrez strongly suggested they schedule C-sections for the same day for both fathers. “I’m seeing some risk factors that make me nervous for both of you, and of course, the risk factors for male carriers are higher anyway. About fifty percent of non-scheduled births wind up moving to emergency C-sections anyway, so it’s not like you’re likely to be missing out,” he told them with a gentle smile.

“Given the risks, and given that each of you is the other one’s intended caregiver, I’d rather get it done at the same time so you can be there for each other, and not trying to rush the other one to the hospital and ripping your stitches.”

And so both Alex and Jordan went to the hospital on June 23. Alex went into surgery at ten in the morning, and was delivered of a perfectly beautiful baby girl named Olivia Davenport-Lopez. At noon, while Alex was cuddling Olivia in recovery, Jordan went into the same room and was delivered of a large, bouncing baby boy named Martin Davenport-Lopez.

The hospital usually gave new parents private rooms, but they let Alex and Jordan share as a kindness. And so, from the first day, their whole little family was able to be together, little hats, tiny diapers and all.

Jordan was up and walking the next day. Alex could have been, but he didn’t want to put the babies down. He didn’t understand how Jordan could, to be honest. “What are you doing?” he asked, as Jordan hobbled around with his tripod and camera.

“I’m a photographer,” Jordan told him, setting up the camera. “Come on, Alex. It’s Day One. You don’t think I’m not getting our first official family portrait together, do you?”

Alex wanted to demur, but Jordan was back at his side and pulling him in. The timer finished, and the portrait was taken. Jordan went to grab it so they could see it in the preview.

Alex laughed weakly, not wanting to break his stitches. His hair was a wreck, and he was eight shades paler than he should have been. He had two more-or-less identical wrinkled, red-faced babies in his arms, each having lost their hats by mutual design, and an exhausted-looking Jordan beside him.

They looked like a mess, and that was okay. They were their own mess, and they were together. That was all that mattered.