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Wyatt’s legs stretch underneath the table, one hand on his belly, the other sifting through the hair at the nape of Alex’s neck.
“When something is that good, you don’t leave a single morsel behind,” Nate says, bouncing his eyebrows at me playfully.
Alex grunts, covering it with a cough, and I look at him, concerned. They’re acting so strangely tonight. He waves me away, and I’m so tipsy on food and wine, I convince myself it’s nothing.
Turning to Nate, I belatedly smack my knuckles against his chest. “You’re bad.”
After one whiskey and two rather full glasses of wine with dinner, his inhibitions barely exist. “I am, aren’t I?” he asks, giving me his Mexico eyes.
“Stop it,” I whisper.
I love the men across the table from us, and the four of us joke and talk about sex all the time. But Nate’s tone reveals his willingness — maybe even his desire — to tell them about our trip, and I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that.
Like the universe wants me to talk, too, Wyatt asks, “How was Mexico?”
“Well, in the words of your dear husband, you’re never gonna believe what the residents of Austin Ridge got up to down there.”
Wyatt straightens, sobering noticeably at Nate’s words. “Oh, really now?”
“Mm-hmm,” Nate says, his overly relaxed tone revealing how well the wine has done its job.
“This sounds like a good story. One you should tell us somewhere more comfortable.” Wyatt stands and gathers his plate and silverware, urging Alex to do the same.
Nate and I follow suit, all four of us piling our plates into the sink to tend to later.
Wyatt pulls Alex to the side, whispering in his ear, and Alex blushes, fervently shaking his head.
“No, Wy. Let it go.”
“Let what go?” Nate asks.
“Nothing,” Alex answers quickly. “Tonight isn’t about us. We want to hear about your trip.”
I lead the way down the hall towards Nate’s study, sinking into the cloud-like sofa I bought so I’d have a place to relax in here while he works. Grabbing a throw pillow, I clutch it to my chest like it will shield me from this conversation.
“You know I love you two, right?” I ask.
“Of course, my love,” Wyatt answers as Alex nods his assent.
“I don’t know if I’m entirely comfortable talking about Mexico with you.”
“You don’t have to talk about a single thing you don’t want to talk about,” Alex volunteered. “We’d love to hear about your trip, but we understand some things are private.”
“Um, yeah. What he said,” Wyatt mumbles, clearly not in agreement with Alex, but knowing it’s the right thing to say.
That would be funny if I weren’t so on edge.
Nate lowers gently to the cushion next to me, stretching out and laying his head in my lap. My fingers instinctively begin combing through his hair, brushing it off his forehead as I look down at him.
His eyes plead with me, beg me without saying a single word. He wants to share this with them. He wants them to know this side of us. This part of us. And I get it. I really fucking get it.
But this is big. Like… massive.
But damn it. If I— If we can trust anyone with this information, it’s Wyatt and Alex.
I breathe deep — in for four, hold for four, out for four — and finally nod once. The smile on my husband’s face rivals the sun as he sits up quickly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
I have such nonexistent expectations for how they’ll react to this information. I’ve never imagined telling them, so I’ve never let myself think about it.
