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“Nice to meet you, Finn,” says Dad. “I’m Bill Griffin and this is my wife, Jill.”
“Finn Hale,” says Mom, shaking his hand. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with Hale House Kennels, would you?”
Finn’s grin widens to a smile. “That’s us,” he says. “My sister Callahan does most of the heavy lifting there, though.”
“I hear good things,” says Mom. “This is our son, Raleigh.”
Finn shakes my hand.
“Nice to meet you,” he says. “If you all want to grab a drink, there’s a bar in the corner just behind you. Alex and Joelle are around here somewhere, though I think we’re still waiting on Elliot.”
Finn keeps his post at the door, greeting another couple standing behind us as we find our way across the room.
“There you are!” Mrs. Weaver, the mother of the groom—one of the grooms—and an old friend of my mother’s sweeps over, martini in hand, hugging Mom hard and grinning at my dad. “I’m so pleased you were able to make it this weekend. How are you? You look just lovely; the beach must suit you.”
I tune out the chatter for a couple of minutes, sipping my beer and surveying the room, wondering what a throuple looks like in public. Noticing everybody else in the room seems to know each other, I’m beginning to think maybe Mom made a mistake bringing me along, when I hear my name.
“This must be your son,” Mrs. Weaver is saying. “Raleigh, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Weaver. Congratulations,” I say, nodding at the room at large.
“Thank you, dear,” says Mrs. Weaver. She has a considering look in her eye that makes me think I’m dressed wrong or something. “My, what a handsome young man you are. Are you seeing anyone?”
I’m still spluttering when a tall man walks up and puts an arm around Mrs. Weaver’s waist, hugging her from the side. “I think he’s a bit young for you, yet, Mom. Might want to give him a year or two to finish growing.”
Mrs. Weaver hums, accepting a kiss on her cheek. “I suppose your father might object anyway. Alex, this is Raleigh Griffin. Raleigh, this is my son Alex.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand. “Congratulations. This place is great.”
“Thanks,” says Alex. “Mom, have you seen Elliot? He’s supposed to be—”
“Oh, stop nagging,” says another voice. A shorter, muscular man joins us now, holding the hand of a pretty, pink-cheeked blond woman. “I’m right here.”
Alex visibly relaxes. A warm smile starts on his face as he looks at the new couple.
“Elliot, Joelle, you know Bill and Jill from the Market, of course,” says Alex. Then he nods at me. “This is their son, Raleigh. Raleigh, these are my fiancés, Elliot and Joelle.”
We shake hands, and even now I can see the three of them can barely hear a word anybody else is saying. They only have eyes for each other.
Turns out, a throuple in public looks just the same as any happy couple, only there’s three people instead of two. The conversation continues around me, but I have trouble following. What must that be like? To have gotten exactly what you want, and not just once, but twice.
I’ve definitely never met anybody who made me feel the way Alex looks right now with his fiancés. The blonde, Joelle, catches me watching and murmurs to the shorter man, Elliot, a small but tense smile on her face. I flush and nod at them, quietly excusing myself from another round of small talk and taking my beer out to the deck overlooking the beach.
A funk like the one I feel coming on has no place at a beach. That goes double for this wedding. Or triple, I guess. Hah.
“Everything all right out here?” says Elliot a moment later. He comes to stand a few feet away, looking out over the railing before glancing at me. “Joelle said you looked a little confused. She asked me to check on you.”
“I’m good,” I say, clearing my throat. “Just enjoying the view.” Elliot nods.
“It’s a damn sight better than staring at the same four walls,” he agrees. “I don’t do well sitting still.”
“I don’t blame you,” I say, finishing my beer. Elliot goes quiet, giving me a considering look.
“It’s the triad thing,” he says. “Isn’t it.” It’s not a question.
I might be taller than the guy, but he’s got at least fifty pounds of muscle on me, and the way the wind is blowing right now, there’s a chance nobody would hear me scream if he decides to toss me off this deck into the ocean. Even so, I don’t think I stand a chance bullshitting this guy, so I answer him as honestly as I can.
“Yes.”
