Cris wasn’t sure which was weirder: that he was currently having dinner at the house of his boynecologist, or that said boynecologist was watching him inhale mozzarella sticks by the dozen.
“I’m so sorry,” Cris mumbled around a mouthful of cheese. Breadcrumbs fell onto his plate as he reached for another stick before he’d even finished chewing the first. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Dr. Willis laughed softly from the head of the table. “Trust me, you’re not even in the top ten strangest pregnancy cravings I’ve seen.”
John leaned across his husband to refill his wine glass. “I knew a woman who was obsessed with peanut butter and pickle sandwiches when she was pregnant.” He stuck his tongue out. “Absolutely vile.”
Cris glanced at Frank, who was already looking at him.
For one horrible second, he was certain they were thinking the exact same thing: Did Dr. Willis tell his husband about the cum thing?
“Honey,” Dr. Willis said carefully, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “We weren’t going to talk about my patients tonight, remember? Separation of the personal and professional.”
John raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I forgot we were pretending to be respectable.”
“It’s okay, Dr. Willis,” said Cris.
“You’re welcome to call me Adam when you’re in my home. But only if you feel comfortable.” He looked at his husband, then at Frank. “I’ll admit, it’s a little… unorthodox to socialize with patients outside the office. Normally, I would wait until after delivery, but John insisted we have the two of you over immediately to try his infamous branzino while it’s still in season.”
John pointed his fork across the table. “And thank God I did. You’re gonna remember this fish for the rest of your life.”
Cris had to physically force himself not to reach for another mozzarella stick. “At this point, I think I could eat a horse.”
Frank chuckled. “Thanks for having us over, guys. I missed getting together like this.”
The energy in the room shifted. Cris didn’t know Adam and John’s whole history, just that they were friends of Frank’s late wife. He got the sense that the three hadn’t spent much time together since her passing.
Frank cleared his throat. “So, is there no pregnancy talk allowed at all? Or just as it pertains to your patients?”
“You guys are welcome to talk about whatever you like,” said Dr. Willis (Adam). “As long as it doesn’t involve any of my other patients. Or any private medical details Cris would prefer not to divulge. That means no intrusive questions, dear,” he added to his husband.
John sighed. “Do you see what I have to put up with?”
Cris smiled to himself. It was nice seeing this old married couple together. He hadn’t known many long-term gay couples in his life, aside from an aunt and her partner who lived all the way across the country. There was something charming about seeing the way these two interacted with each other—the snippy comments cushioned with love, the tender way John kept refilling Adam’s glass without him asking, the way Adam squeezed the back of John’s neck when he got up to grab something from the kitchen.
He looked over at Frank, who was sipping his beer. He wondered what the old man might be like when he was in love. Would he be sweet with Cris like that? Tease him a little more, or touch him absentmindedly? Would he–
Frank looked over suddenly and caught him staring.
Cris immediately grabbed his water glass and took a sip.
“So, what do you do for work, Cris?” John asked, sliding the serving platter toward him.
Cris reached for a piece of branzino. “I’m a freelance copywriter.”
John raised his eyebrows. “Wow. How did you get into that?”
Cris shrugged, carefully peeling a piece of fish off the bone with his fork. “Honestly, I kind of fell into it. I needed money after my last job ended, and it turned out I was decent at writing ad copy.”
“What was the last job?”
“Musical theatre.”
Adam’s eyes flashed. “Really?”
”Like Broadway?” John added.
Cris nodded, suddenly embarrassed by how excited they looked. “I was in a couple of shows. Ensemble, mostly. But then I got cast in the Mamma Mia revival.”
John nearly dropped his fork. “No way.”
Cris laughed softly. “It was like a dream come true. Mamma Mia was the first Broadway show I ever saw as a kid. I was obsessed.”
“Who were you playing?” asked John.
Cris took a sip of his water before answering. “I was supposed to be Sky.”
“Supposed to be?” Adam repeated gently.
Cris looked back down at his plate, picking at his branzino. “Yeah. I had to, uh, drop out.”
John frowned sympathetically. “Oh no. Why?”
Cris noticed Frank staring at him, his brow creased in concern. He felt his pulse start to race.
He forced a smile on his face, waving it off. “It’s a long story. Um, how did you two meet?”
John smiled at his husband. “Do you wanna tell them, or should I?”
Adam rubbed his face and groaned. “Oh, Lord. So much for professionalism.”
Cris straightened in his seat. “What? Is it scandalous?”
Frank frowned slightly. “I thought you said you met at the park.”
“It was at the park,” said John.
“Dear,” warned Adam.
“What? We were at the park, and Adam had that lovely handkerchief hanging out of his back pocket.”
“Oh my God,” said Cris. “You don’t mean, like, the hanky code. Do you?”
Frank looked between them. “The what?”
John grinned from ear to ear. “It was basically Grindr for gay men before the internet.”
“If you tell them what color it was,” Adam said, pointing his knife at him, “I’m going to kill you where you stand.”
“Give me a little credit, dear.” John took a sip of wine, savoring the suspense.
Then he looked directly at Cris and mouthed, Black.
Cris put a hand over his mouth, laughing.
“And that’s enough of that,” said Adam, grabbing the wine bottle and setting it on the far end of the table.
John just shrugged. “It was a different time,” he said wistfully.
“A terrifying time,” Adam muttered.
“A horny time,” corrected John.
Frank barked out a laugh so sudden it startled Cris a little.
He looked over to see Frank’s head tipped down slightly, grinning to himself as he picked at the label on the beer bottle. The laugh softened his whole face, making him look younger somehow.
This was getting dangerous.
Cris forced himself to look away before he got caught staring again.
“I seriously have so much respect for you guys, though,” he said. “I feel like I was so lucky to be born when I did. Like, all the hard stuff was done before I even got here, you know?”
John smiled kindly at him.
“I mean, when you met, you were in the middle of an epidemic,” Cris continued. “Meanwhile, when I came out, I already had Lady Gaga’s Born This Way.”
Adam laced his fingers through John’s and squeezed tightly. “We were lucky,” he said quietly. “A lot of people weren’t. It was a very scary time.”
“Especially for you,” said John. He turned to Cris and Frank and explained, “There was a lot of paranoia against gay doctors. Hospitals didn’t want openly gay physicians, and neither did patients. Adam couldn’t come out until well into the 90s.”
Adam sighed. “Thankfully the world changes.”
“And now look at us!” John said, gesturing broadly with his free hand. “Gay marriage is legal, nobody bats an eye at a gay doctor or educator–”
“Men can get pregnant,” Frank added dryly.
Adam laughed. “Yes. Whatever will they think of next?”
Frank’s hand found Cris’s and squeezed it softly.
Cris’s breath caught. When he looked up, Frank winked at him.
Fuck. This was getting bad. Every day it became harder to pretend he wasn’t falling for the father of his child.
“So,” John said slowly, a gossipy edge to his voice, “I heard from a little birdie that Cris might not be the only Momdad in town.”
Adam set down his fork harshly, making his plate rattle. “John, for the love of God.”
“What?”
“I told you not to mention my other patients!”
“You said you were gonna tell him anyway.”
“At my office,” Adam snapped. “During work hours, not over flounder–”
“Branzino.”
“Not helping.”
“Wait,” said Cris. “There’s someone else like me?”
Adam closed his eyes briefly, then sighed. “Yes. I did recently take on another patient.”
Cris leaned forward so quickly his napkin slid off his lap. “Another pregnant guy?”
Frank looked just as surprised.
Adam nodded carefully. “Yes.”
For a second, Cris just stared at him. His mind ran wild with the idea of another guy, another pregnant guy, just like him. He’d felt like such a freak these last few weeks, like the only person in the world who knew what it was like to go through the cum cravings, the insane libido, the novelty of boypregnancy. Now there would be someone else who knew exactly how it felt.
“Can I meet him?”
Adam relaxed slightly. “That was actually going to be my suggestion. Support systems are important during pregnancy under normal circumstances. In this situation, I think they’re even more important.”
John nodded emphatically. “You need a gal pal to compare baby bellies with.”
“Please stop talking, Love of my Life,” Adam said.
John just shook his head, sighing.
Adam turned back to Cris. “If you were interested, I could connect the two of you. I’ve already spoken with him to ask his permission, and he’s agreed to meet.”
“What would that look like?” asked Cris.
“Well, there’s not exactly a handbook for this. But if you wanted, I could arrange something informal at the hospital café.”
Cris shook his head in disbelief. “What’s his name? How far along is he?”
Adam gave him a slight frown. “Unfortunately, I can’t really tell you anything about him in advance. I still have to abide by doctor-patient confidentiality. But you can feel free to ask him whatever you like when you two meet.”
Cris looked over at Frank and grinned.
“I can’t wait,” said Cris.
Just shoot me now, thought Cris.
Fernando was, without question, one of the most annoying people Cris had ever met in his 28 years on this earth.