The rest of the week passes in a blur of activity. Gina calls me at least a half-dozen times as she finalizes the catering plans for the reception that will follow the wedding ceremony Saturday afternoon. Cooper has obtained his ordained minister’s license from an online organization and is now legally able to perform the ceremony. Ellie has fussed over the flowers and the decorations. And Gina arranged for a photographer friend of hers to take our wedding day photos. Everything is set, and now all that’s left for me to do is be nervous.

When Saturday morning comes, I wake early after having spent a restless night filled with fuzzy dreams and feelings of dread. I’m thrilled that I’m about to marry the love of my life, but I absolutely dread standing up in front of all those people – even the smaller crowd of family and close friends. That still amounts to quite a number of people packed into the estate for the weekend.

As soon as my brain comes online, my thoughts start racing and I feel queasy and light-headed.

“Good morning, Miss Jamison,” Shane says, his voice rough from sleep. He rolls toward me and slips his arm beneath the sheet and around my bare waist, drawing me close to his body. “How did you sleep?”

I sigh. “Not very well.”

He leans close and kisses my temple. “You won’t be Miss Jamison for much longer, you know.”

I feel a wave of heat sweep through me, and suddenly my stomach is doing somersaults, and not in a good way. I have barely any warning.

“Oh, crap!” I gasp, shoving Shane’s arm off me and frantically jumping out of bed. I make a beeline for the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet in time to drop to my knees and heave out the hot, meagre contents of my stomach.  I scowl at the sour burn in my throat, coughing and spitting.

Shane’s there behind me, pulling back my hair, securing it from danger as my body does a repeat performance, desperately trying to expel the contents of an empty stomach. Oh, how lovely. On the morning of my wedding, my husband-to-be has to bear witness to me being sick.

When the danger seems to have passed, Shane helps me rise from my knees. He puts down the toilet lid and sits me down. I’m butt naked and cold, shivering and miserable.

“Be right back,” he says, stepping briefly out of the toilet room and returning a moment later with a cool, wet washcloth.

“Here. The cool water will feel good.”

He’s right. The cool cloth feels good on my hot face. “I need to go rinse my mouth and brush my teeth.”

“Wait a minute,” he says, squatting in front of me. “Let’s make sure it’s over.”

I laugh at the sight of the two of us hanging out naked in the toilet. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. This is not a good way to begin our big day.”

He lays his warm hands on my thighs, gripping them gently. “Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about.” One of his hands slides up to cover my belly. “You’re carrying our child. You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should apologize to you for putting you in this position.”

Despite how puny I feel, I can’t help laughing. “I’m pretty sure it was a team effort.” I run my fingers through his hair, tugging on the short strands and earning a groan for my efforts. 

He smiles at me, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. “How do you feel?”

“Better. I think it’s over.”

“Do you think you can eat something?”

I laugh shakily, still feeling light-headed. “No.”

“You have to eat something. Maybe some toast will settle your stomach. Come on, let’s give it a try.”

He disappears for just a moment, returning quickly with my favorite robe, which he helps me put on. He waits while I rinse out my mouth and brush my teeth, which goes a long way to helping me feel presentable again.

He pulls on a pair of gray flannel pajama bottoms and nothing else. “Come on, let’s go make you some toast.”

* * *

It’s still pretty early and the penthouse is quiet when we make our way to the kitchen. Shane sits me at the breakfast counter, and then he gets out a loaf of bread and some butter. A few moments later, I have a slice of lightly toasted, lightly buttered wheat bread cut in two triangles – which is exactly how I like it.

Shane discovers fresh scrambled eggs and bacon in the warming dish and helps himself.

As we’re eating, Cooper strolls barefoot into the kitchen wearing only a pair of black sweatpants and carrying two empty plates and an empty coffee mug. “Hey, kiddo, you’re up early,” he says to me. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I helped myself to breakfast,” Shane says, nodding at the warming tray. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Cooper sets the empty plates and mug in the sink. “Of course not. There’s plenty.” He pours himself a cup of coffee. “Today’s the big day. You guys ready?”

“Please don’t remind me,” I say, putting down the last bite of my toast.

Cooper gives me a sympathetic smile. “Nerves or morning sickness?”

Shane sits on the stool next to mine and strokes the back of my head. “It’s a little bit of both, I think.”

“How’s Sam?” I ask, figuring Cooper has just come from Sam’s room.

“He’s holding up,” Cooper says. “Still refusing pain medication, even though his leg hurts like a bitch. But what do you expect? He’s stubborn as hell.”

The idea of Cooper calling Sam stubborn makes me smile. That’s a little like the kettle calling the pot black.

I feel a little bit revived after having eaten something, so I hop down from my barstool. “I’m going to say good morning to Sam.”

I head to his room and knock on the door, which is ajar.

“Come in,” he says.

“Hey, you,” I say, walking into the room.

“Hey, yourself. You okay? You look pale.”

I shrug as I climb carefully onto his bed, so as not to disturb his leg. I can’t help noticing that the pillow next to Sam’s has a slight indentation in it where someone must have laid his head in the night. Cooper must have slept in Sam’s bed last night. I also can’t help noticing the fresh hickey on Sam’s right bicep.  It looks like Cooper did a tad more than just sleep in Sam’s bed last night.

My expression must have given away my thoughts, because Sam’s practically blushing now.

“Stop it,” he says, covering the love bite with his hand. “I know what you’re thinking.”

I try to suppress a grin and fail miserably. “What? I didn’t say a word!”

“You didn’t have to,” he says. “It’s all over your face.”

My face overheats. I’ve read my fair share of gay romance novels before, and I can’t help wondering how things are with Sam and Cooper in the bedroom department. I mean, usually when there are two guys involved, one of them is the dominant one, right? And one of them… isn’t. One’s usually the top, and one’s the bottom. Or is that just a cliché? Oh, my God. Cooper’s old enough to be Sam’s father, and he’s naturally bossy, so he must be the top.

“What?” Sam says, sighing. He shakes his head. “Go ahead. Ask.”

I strive to keep a straight face. “What are you talking about? Ask what?”

“You want to know about me and Cooper.”

“No, I don’t! Honestly, it’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me anything. Unless you want to?”

He rolls his eyes. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, I was just wondering… I mean, I assume… I mean, Cooper’s older and bigger than you. He’s a pretty domineering guy, right?”

Sam gives me a duh look.

“Right,” I say, nervously fiddling with the hem of my robe. “Of course, he is.” And now my face is turning all shades of red because no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop picturing them having sex. Oh, my God. Suddenly I feel very flushed.

Sam laughs. “Relax, Beth. It’s okay.”

The sound of Shane’s voice from the doorway startles both of us, and we both jump.  “What’s okay?” Shane says.

I hop off the bed. “Nothing! We were just talking. I’d better get showered,” I say, hastening from the room.

As I race down the hallway, I hear both of them laughing.

* * *

“So, what was all that about?” Shane says, stepping naked into the spacious shower stall with me.

I’m in the process of shampooing my hair, and he takes over the job, massaging my scalp with firm fingertips.

“It was nothing,” I say, moaning in pleasure at the feel of his fingers on my scalp.

Shane chuckles. “You were as red as a beet.”

“Well, we were just talking about... well, you know… Sam and Cooper. Together, if you know what I mean.”

I swear I feel the vibration of a silent chuckle at my back. “What about them?” he says, sounding far too innocent.

“Well, the logistics of it, I guess. I’ve read plenty of gay romance books. When there are two guys involved, well usually one of them is… um, on top, right? Or is that a cliché? I’m not sure.”

Now I definitely hear soft laughter. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” he says, turning me to rinse my hair under the stream of warm water. “I’m sure they’ve got it all figured out.”