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“She’s healthy and strong. We should be able to deliver in the morning. The delivery is fairly straightforward. Your stomach is designed to open like a hatch, allowing us to unhook her from the support system I created for your womb.”

Elliot exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as relief washed over him. He clutched Alexander’s hand. Though he wanted to describe in great detail just how appreciative he was, “Thank you,” was all he could manage.

Mrs. Peppercorn smiled warmly, her earlier concerns apparently eased by the Creationist’s confident assessment. “We’ll be ready,” she assured them. “Get some rest tonight, Elliot. Lord knows it’ll be the last chance you have to rest for a while.”

Elliot blinked at her. “I require six hours of uninterrupted rest per night. It’s when I replenish my life force.” He looked at the Creationist. “Will she require the same? I know she’s half-human, half-automaton, but will she still need to charge herself?”

“She will, but it’s not nearly as long a process. By my calculations, she should only require an hour, at most. Don’t worry—I know the book Broussard gave you is filled with idioms, but I can go over everything with you, so there’s no confusion.” He glanced at Mrs. Peppercorn. “She’s right, though. You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

Elliot nodded, warmth spreading through his chest as he envisioned the moment he could finally hold Honey Davenport in his arms. Staring down at his translucent stomach, Elliot pressed a kiss to his fingertip and rubbed it into his skin, right over her sleeping face.

Elliot was tired. He was tired, and he was cranky. Ever since waking to find Alexander not in his usual spot at Elliot’s side, Elliot’s mood had been absolutely dreadful. He should have been happy—he was meeting his daughter for the first time that morning—but without Alexander at his side, he felt like he was on his own again, the same way he was when he first boarded the bus to Georgia. To top things off, there was the sound of incessant laughter on the other side of the bedroom door, and Elliot didn’t care for it.

Elliot was sure Alexander had a perfectly understandable excuse for his absence, but Elliot didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want an excuse, he wanted Alexander.

As seconds trickled into minutes, Elliot grew more and more impatient, and his irritation shifted into an overwhelming sense of dread. Where could Alexander have possibly gone? They shared Elliot’s childhood bed the night before, which wasn’t terribly comfortable, as Alexander was a gorgeous behemoth, and the bed had a twin-size mattress, but they made do. Then Elliot awoke, and he was gone.

He’d been waiting for five minutes before the door finally opened. When it did, Alexander was carrying a tray with two plates, two cups of lemon water, and two cookies one each dish. Alexander set the tray down on the bed, studying Elliot. “What’s wrong? You look upset.”

Elliot blinked, trying to suppress the lump forming in his throat. “I thought you left,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “I thought you may have changed your mind.” He looked down. “I was scared.”

“I would never leave you,” he reassured, his voice soothing. “I just wanted to surprise you with breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands, feeling embarrassed. “I think it’s just the pregnancy hormones making me a bit . . . emotional.”

“You can be as emotional as you need to be, baby. We’re in this together, remember? I’m never going to judge you for being scared or worried.” He gave Elliot a gentle kiss. “Now, let’s get some food into you. It’s a big day, you’ll need your strength.”

Elliot cocked his head to the side, staring at Alexander. “You realize I don’t require food for energy, correct?”

In response to that, Alexander simply took a fork from the tray, scooped up a hearty helping of egg whites, and held it up to Elliot’s mouth. Leaning in, Elliot accepted the eggs, purring like a kitten at the flavor. Bland and boring, and something that surely wouldn’t give him heartburn. It could have tasted like raw beef and Elliot wouldn’t have complained, so long as it meant he wouldn’t have to suffer the sensation of someone pouring battery acid down his throat.

They ate their breakfast in relative silence, Alexander offering Elliot forkful after forkful until his plate was empty. When it was Alexander’s turn to eat, Elliot did the same, feeding him bite after bite.

With their meals done, they lay in bed together for another hour before it was time to go downstairs to meet their daughter. On their way out of the room, Elliot spotted three Bountiful Beaus playing tic-tac-toe. It was a bizarre sight, as Mother never believed in downtime for her sons, aside from two hours in the evening. Mother or no Mother, it left an unsettling feeling lingering in the pit of Elliot’s stomach. He half expected Mother to pop her waterlogged head through a doorway and scold him for allowing their game to continue.

He watched the three young men playing tic-tac-toe, their faces a mix of concentration and amusement. They looked so innocent with their bright eyes sparkling in shades of pink-pink-pink. The sound of soft laughter filled the air, a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere that used to permeate the home. Each of them had a distinct charm: one with a gap-tooth smile that never faded, another with ridiculously deep dimples, while the third had sparsely placed freckles across his cheeks and nose. They seemed oblivious to the world around them, lost in their game.

One of the boys—the one with ridiculous dimples—looked up at Elliot with a smile.

“You’re Elliot?”

Elliot nodded. “I am.”

“I’m i-982. Mother told us all about you.”

It came as no surprise. They spent quite a bit of time together during the cruise, so Elliot would have been fresh on her mind. He smiled down at the doe-eyed man. “Did she tell you about our adventure at sea?”

i-982 shook his head. “No. Well, I mean, yes, she did. That’s not what I meant, though. Before she left—when she was still preparing for the cruise and had a different face—she used to talk about you constantly. Elliot this , and Elliot that . She seemed very proud of you.” He pointed at Elliot’s belly. “She said she couldn’t wait to see you with your baby, because she knew you would make a marvelous father.”

Elliot’s throat clicked. Mother spoke of him? Fondly? And she had faith in his ability to father a child? This was all news to Elliot, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Since the cruise, Elliot assumed he’d meant nothing to Mother. Perhaps there was more than met the eye when it came to Emily Broussard. Perhaps, despite her inability to provide safety for her son, she loved him in her own way. He’d never get to ask her, so he filed it away in his heart, choosing to believe she did.

When it was time, Elliot and Alexander headed downstairs, each step filled with purpose. At the bottom of the grand staircase, they paused for a moment, exchanging a look.

“I’m scared,” Elliot whispered as two Bountiful Beaus rushed past, heading upstairs. There were only twenty men currently under Mrs. Peppercorn’s tutelage, and like Clarence said when he called, each of them seemed to be running amuck. There was no structure, despite Mrs. Peppercorn’s claims of running a tight ship. Mother would be rolling over in her watery grave if she could see the state of her beaus.

In the library, Alexander reached past where the book hiding the secret entrance had been, to press the hidden button. Once it was pressed, the sound of metal on metal screeched behind the walls as the false panel slid back, revealing the dimly lit passageway. Taking a deep breath, Elliot nodded to Alexander, who led the way.

After what felt like ages, thanks to Elliot’s achy ankles, they reached the bottom level of Ms. Broussard’s Home for Bountiful Beaus. Inside the Creationist’s lair, there was an overwhelming sense of calm, and a strong odor of lavender and vanilla, thanks to the oversized candle resting near the operating table.

Mrs. Peppercorn as Ms. Broussard was standing at the Creationist’s side, discussing numbers printed on a piece of paper.

“Yes,” Mrs. Peppercorn said to the Creationist.

“I’m here,” Elliot spoke up, startling them. He wasn’t sure why he surprised them; he imagined the sound of the wall scraping open in the library could probably be heard from miles off. “Is everything okay?”

Mrs. Peppercorn nodded. “Everything is perfect, baby. We’re just discussing little Honey’s vitals.”

Elliot’s eyes widened. “Is she all right? Is her heart fully functional?”

The Creationist arched a judgy eyebrow at Elliot. “Of course, she’s all right. I made her, and I don’t make mistakes.”

“You slept through the scuffle of Mrs. Peppercorn stealing your precious pet,” Elliot retorted. “That sounds like a mistake on your part.”

The corner of the Creationist’s lip curled up into a smirk. “I like you.”

Elliot blushed. “Yes, well, Alexander tells me I’m very likeable.”

He winked at Alexander. “He’s spot-on.” After handing the papers to Mrs. Peppercorn, the Creationist walked to the operating table and motioned for Elliot to climb up. Elliot approached, nervous, but optimistic. Once again, Alexander lifted Elliot onto the table into a seated position, but the Creationist motioned for him to lie down.

On his back, Elliot looked up to find Alexander at his side. There was the sound of fabric rustling, but Elliot couldn’t look away from the man standing over him. Elliot was so lonely for so very long. He never imagined he could have a life filled with love, respect, and purpose, but Alexander was providing all the above.

“I love you, Alexander,” he whispered, meaning it more than he’d ever meant anything.

Tears formed in Alexander’s eyes, and he knelt down, kissing Elliot gently. “I love you, too, Elliot.” He brushed his finger back and forth against Elliot’s cheek, and when Elliot leaned up to give Alexander another kiss, he stopped, making it only a few inches. The endless pressure that sat on Elliot’s bladder had lifted, and he no longer felt a relentless need to urinate. He looked toward the Creationist, wanting to see what was going on, but a small blue curtain had been hung without him realizing, separating his top bits from his bottom bits. He couldn’t see anything past his chest.

“What’s happening?” Elliot asked, frightened to hear the answer. Alexander stood, staring past the curtain, every trace of color draining from his face. “Oh, God. Is something wrong? Is she okay? Alexander?” Alexander blinked a few times, unable to take his eyes off whatever was happening out of Elliot’s sight. “Alexander! Snap out of it, please.”

He turned to look at Elliot, his mouth open, but nothing came out.

“Give me a minute,” the Creationist said, his tone calm and assuring. “Everything is okay. We’re almost done.” There was the sensation of tugging and shoving going on inside him, and Elliot couldn’t remember ever feeling more uncomfortable. It was like someone had taken an eggbeater and gone to town on his internal organs. Then, there was the sound of drilling, though Elliot didn’t know what on Earth the Creationist could be drilling. Through it all, there was no pain, just a nagging feeling of discomfort that refused to go away. “Okay, Daddy. We’ve got a special delivery.

Alexander took a deep breath and moved behind the curtain. When he emerged, he was cradling a tiny child wrapped in a fuzzy, pink blanket. His face was a mixture of awe and an overwhelming sense of love as he moved toward Elliot.

The Creationist flicked a switch on the side of the operating table, and it slowly folded forward until Elliot was in a seated position. Gently, Alexander lowered their child, and Elliot’s eyes widened as he caught his first glimpse of their daughter.

It was like looking at a work of art, and Elliot couldn’t believe something so small—someone so precious—could have come from him. That she would depend on him. Though his heart was heavy with worry over his ability to be the father she deserved, he couldn’t get past how striking she was.

Honey Davenport was an exquisite blend of human and automaton. Her eyes—wide and wild—opened, displaying a dazzling light pattern of pink-pink-pink. As Alexander and Elliot gazed at their new child, Honey Davenport wrapped a tiny finger around Elliot’s thumb.

“You have my finger,” he pointed out. “I’m going to have to insist you give it back at some point.” Elliot peeked around the room before leaning in and rubbing their noses together. Bringing his voice a whisper only she could hear, he added, “I’m only joking. Hold on to it as long as you want.” He kissed her forehead, right between the eyes, breathing in her baby scent. “I plan on holding onto you for as long as you’ll let me, so you just hold on, too.”

Elliot’s heart swelled with so many emotions—love, devotion, terror, and an overwhelming sense of pride. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he reached out to touch her, his fingers trembling. It was the single most profound moment of his not-so-long life.

“She’s . . .” He struggled to find words that could truly convey the depth of his feelings, but all Elliot could come up with was, “She’s beautiful.”

Alexander leaned over, pressing his forehead to Elliot’s, both men staring down at the little life between them. “She’s perfect.”

“I made her from scratch,” he whispered, touching the little one’s nose. “I made a person, Alexander. A whole entire person.”

“Technically,” the Creationist interrupted. “I made her.” He reached down and touched Honey’s cheek, but Elliot’s growl scared him off.

Elliot looked up, glaring at the man. “You may have planted the seed, but you did not make her grow. I did.” He’d never felt such an overwhelming sense of connection with anyone, and as silly and unnecessary as the war of words would be, Elliot refused to let the Creationist take credit for anything he’d gone through to keep her safe. “You didn’t have to take someone’s life to protect her. Or have to watch your mother plummet into the depths of the sea to earn your child’s freedom—twice. You’ve played no part in what it’s taken to get us here, so you can watch your mouth.”

“I don’t understand what’s gotten into him,” the Creationist said to Mrs. Peppercorn. “It could be his hormones.”

“I beg your pardon?” Elliot growled.

Alexander’s eyes bulged, and he quickly stood to usher the Creationist away before Elliot could launch up from the operating table and attack. As Alexander walked the man to the other side room, Mrs. Peppercorn hobbled over, taking a seat on the Creationist’s newly vacant stool. She reached out her withered hand, touching the baby’s cheek.

“I’m so proud of you, Elliot,” she said, her voice soft with a bit of a sing-song tone. “You did so well, sugar.” As she ran her fingers through Elliot’s hair, she pulled the side of his face against her chest in a hug. Her perfume was a bit much, but he didn’t point it out. “You can stay here, you know. You and Alexander. If you want to be around your brothers, I’d be happy to make a permanent space for you in my home for Bountiful Beaus.”

Elliot shook his head, unable to look away from the little bundle in his arms. “Our home is on Sugarplum Island. As much as I appreciate the offer . . .” He looked up, tears fresh in his eyes. “I believe I’ve found my happily ever after.”

Mrs. Peppercorn nodded, dabbing a stray tear from her eye as well. “You sure did.”

Elliot watched as Alexander and the Creationist spoke, taking in the sight of the man he loved. Funny how that worked out. From the moment Jared Price entered Elliot’s life, he knew his life would be difficult. He knew he would have to harden his mechanical heart to endure what life had in store for him. But at that moment, in an underground laboratory, basking in Mr. Alexander Davenport’s love, his hardened heart skipped a beat. As if Alexander could feel it, too, he turned, smiling at Elliot. Whatever the Creationist was saying went unheard as he turned and made his way back to Elliot. There was still quite a bit of room on the operating table, and Alexander slid next to them with ease.

“I’m going to do a bit of maintenance behind the curtain,” the Creationist announced, settling in between Elliot’s legs and grabbing the drill from a small silver tray next to them. Elliot’s eyes bulged and he quickly looked away, focusing on Honey. He tickled her chin, thankful to feel nothing when the drill began making loud whirring noises. As if Alexander could sense his fear, he placed a hand on Elliot’s shoulder, softly stroking.

“I can’t wait for your mother to meet her. Do you think she’ll like her?”

“We’ll be lucky if Mom lets us keep her every other weekend,” Alexander joked, snorting a laugh. The sound startled Honey, and as she shifted in his arms, nervous orange light flickered in Elliot’s eyes. The baby’s eyes blinked open, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to cry. She didn’t, though. She stared at the light flickering in Elliot’s eyes like she was reading his every thought. As if trying to soothe him, she lifted his thumb to her mouth and kissed it. They shared a look Elliot could only describe as profound, and then she slobbered all over his hand.

“I’d like my pet back now,” the Creationist said rather loudly. “I held my part of the bargain, so I want him back.”

Mrs. Peppercorn sighed, then slowly shuffled across the room and grabbed her phone. Tapping the screen, she muttered, “Fine, but as God as my witness, if you try to pull a fast one and overthrow my rule of law, you and I will be having words.” She turned, narrowing her eyes at him. “They will not be kind words, sugar.”

The Creationist simply blinked at her.

Mrs. Peppercorn rolled her eyes and brought the phone to her ear, pointing at her own eyes, then at his, mouthing, “I’m watching you.” Once the call connected, she advised Clarence to send the pet down. Elliot clutched his baby closer, scared this new dog or cat or random animal might attack the small child. He gave the Creationist a frightened look.

“Is your pet safe for Honey to be around?”

The Creationist didn’t answer, just stared at Elliot like he was stupid. Moments later, there were thunderous footsteps stampeding down the stairs leading to the hidden lair. The door swung open, and when Elliot looked behind him, there was no dog or cat to be found—just a man. A tiny little man, perhaps in his forties, dressed in the standard Bountiful Beau uniform; white top, white trousers, white shoes. The man’s jaw wobbled and tears dripped down his cheeks.

“Daddy,” he whispered, and then he lunged, rushing forward and launching himself into the Creationist’s arms, wrapping his legs around his waist. The man sobbed loudly into his neck, the sharp, piercing sounds occasionally peppered with loud whines and whimpers.

“I’ve got you, baby,” the Creationist whispered. “You’re okay. You’re home now, Benito.”

Alexander looked back at Elliot, shrugging. “I guess even the strangest among us deserve a love story for the ages.” Leaning down, he kissed Elliot’s forehead. “How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

Elliot shook his head. “I didn’t feel anything. Actually, I feel better than I have in months.”

“That’s because I cut off the pain receptors from your chest down,” the Creationist interjected.

“Stop talking to them,” the man in his arms whined. “Make them go away. Don’t want to see them. Don’t want you looking at them.”

As the Creationist stroked the man’s back, he looked up at Elliot and Alexander, his face softer than Elliot could ever remember seeing it. “You should be fine to walk now. I’d like you to leave.”

Though his words were blunt, his tone seemed apologetic. Alexander, on the other hand, didn’t seem happy about the request at all.

“He’s just given birth. He needs to rest and recover.”

The Creationist rolled his eyes. “He’s an automaton, Mr. Davenport. If I don’t want him to feel pain, he won’t feel pain. You, on the other hand, are testing my patience, so I can’t say the same for you. Leave. Leave us now.” He glared at Mrs. Peppercorn. “You, too. This is my lab. It’s my space, and you’re no longer welcome in it.”

Mrs. Peppercorn swallowed. “And what will you do now? Kill me in my sleep and overthrow my home for Bountiful Beaus?”

The Creationist groaned. “Obviously, not. As you said, I have a bit of an affinity for these beaus. If you can assure me you’ll stay out of my space and stay in your lane, I’ll stick around.”

After agreeing, Mrs. Peppercorn headed toward the door, and Alexander took Honey so Elliot could stand. To his surprise, when he looked down at his waist, his body was in the same shape it had been before the baby. The twenty pounds he gained during his pregnancy seemed to have melted away.

“What form of sorcery is this?” Elliot demanded.

The Creationist chuckled. “Not sorcery. Science.” Carrying his pet in his arms, he walked to the end of the operating table, reached down into a small bucket on the floor, and pulled out a curved sheet of metal, foggily transparent. “For Honey to fit in there, I had to construct an expanding belly plate to give her room to grow. After delivering her, I removed it and reattached your original abdominal plate.”

Elliot swallowed, feeling a bit squeamish, if he was being honest. When he looked over at Alexander, he was happy to see the man seemed to appreciate the view. His eyes had practically formed hearts for pupils.

“Do I look okay?” Elliot whispered.

Alexander licked his lips. “More than okay. You’re stunning.”

Elliot bit his lip, trying to hold back a prideful smile. “Well, I think you’re rather stunning yourself.”

As Alexander led them upstairs, his hand against the small of Elliot’s back, Elliot couldn’t remember ever feeling as happy as he did at that moment.