Page 108 of Puck Me, Baby

I nodded my thanks and went to the refrigerator and took out the pumpkin pie I’d made. It needed to go into the oven too. “Trav, can you please pop this in there for me?” I asked.

“Sure, darlin’.” He slid the dish into the empty space and closed the oven door.

I was steadfastly ignoring the eyes on me while I checked my list. I startled when Jacques slid his arms around my waist and pressed a kiss to my temple. “Have they said anything?” he whispered.

“Your mum said my name as hello,” I replied.

The tension ratcheted up another notch when Linc checked my water bottle and refilled it for me. They were just doing the things we did for each other every day. We’d fallen into a happy routine where we naturally looked after one another. The casual caresses were second nature to us, but now that I knew Sophia and Pierre were watching, it occurred to me just how often we touched. From their perspective, it would look odd at best, and downright slutty at worst.

“So, Jacques, when’s your due date?” Sophia asked.

I stilled and Jacques tensed. His jaw bulged against my temple as he clenched his teeth. Then he grated out, “February twenty-third.”

“And do you know what gender the baby is?” Pierre asked conversationally, apparently not even realizing or caring that they’d upset us with their blatant dismissal of me.

“Sex,” Trav corrected without missing a beat. “And no, Carina wanted to be surprised.”

There was a pregnant pause, and I could imagine Sophia and Pierre looking at each other with raised eyebrows. Instead of looking their way, I focused on the view of the garden outside the kitchen window.

“Okay, then,” Pierre said.

“You do realize Carina is here in the room with us, don’t you?” Linc said. “You can ask her questions about Peanut, too, not just Jacques.”

“I’d rather not,” Sophia shot back.

“That’s it,” Jacques growled and whirled around to face them.

I spun, too, and reached for him, hooking my arm around his.

But he pointed his finger at Sophia and Pierre and said, “I’m done.”

“Jacques, no,” I pleaded.

“What, beautiful? You expect me to sit here, in our house, and listen to them disrespect you?”

His voice rose with every word he uttered, but I knew he wasn’t angry with me. His frustration was obvious in the way he gestured vaguely in the direction of his parents. For once, I didn’t care what their reaction was. Hearing Jacques’s words, seeing the fire in his eyes, and the passionate way he was defending me made me fall in love with him all over again.

“I won’t have it,” he argued. “You’re my wife. I love you. You’re the mother of our child. They have no right.”

I cupped his face and smoothed my thumb over the frown lines around his mouth. “I love you too. But they’re doing it to protect you. We haven’t given them a chance to see us, to understand what we mean to each other. Please,” I begged. “For your sake, for Trav’s and Linc’s—and for Peanut’s. Talk to them.”

“I’m ready,” Trav announced, walking over to us.

He put his hand on my hip and met Jacques’s gaze. Their stare held until Jacques broke it to meet Linc’s. When Linc nodded and made his way over to us, Jacques’s shoulders loosened, and he slid his hand down to tangle his fingers with Trav’s.

Jacques sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then he looked at his parents, whose confused gazes were bouncing between the four of us.

“Mom, Dad, I’m bisexual,” Jacques announced matter-of-factly.

The moment the words were out, it was as if a weight had been lifted off him. He stood up straighter and pulled his shoulders back. He lifted his chin, and he closed his eyes for a moment, a serene smile curling his lips. “Travis, Rusty, and I have been together since college.”

“I don’t understand,” Sophia said.

“We hid my sexuality and our relationship from virtually everyone because of my career,” he explained.

“You’re gay?” she asked at the same time as Pierre stated, “So, the marriage is a sham.” There was a note of hope in his voice, an uplift in pitch and a tilt to his lips, a smile breaking free.

“No,” my three guys barked in unison, their harsh tones leaving no room for misunderstanding.