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Three pairs of eyes sparkle. Bright blue, deep brown, burnished hazel. Three mouths lift into smiles. Flirty, charming, daring. Three men step closer to me, their different scents catching in the night air, then wafting around me.
“Good,” Hollis answers.
“We don’t either,” Rhys agrees.
“We want to take you as your boyfriends,” Gavin says.
“Your real boyfriends,” Hollis says.
“Not part of a project, not for a contest, not for a week,” Rhys continues, and this romance Ping-Pong is making my heart spring wildly.
“For good,” Gavin finishes.
There’s a heady pause, full of crackling electricity as a breeze whips by, my skirt rustling around my ankles. I swallow past a gorgeous knot of emotions, then say, “I want to be your girlfriend.”
Rhys lets out a long-held breath. “We want to be your boyfriends.”
Hollis’s bright blues glimmer with happiness. “We want you to be ours.”
“Friends…and lovers,” Gavin says, finishing as the hard lines of his mouth soften finally.
My heart is a roman candle, bursting with light and joy as I close the remaining distance between us and somehow throw my arms around all three of these big, strong hockey stars who have shown up for me over and over again. “You’re mine,” I whisper, my throat catching, my eyes shining, my emotions spilling over. “You’re all mine.”
For the longest time, I fervently believed romance was only for other people. I truly thought love would only hurt me. I thought my career was all I could depend on. But since the night they saved my cat, I’ve been learning slowly but surely that I can rely on people—the people who show up for me. These men who want only the best for me. Who let me be my best.
When I break the hug, I look from one to the other to the other. “I love you. All of you. All three of you.”
Hollis reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine. “I love you so much, Briar.”
Rhys cups one cheek. “I am madly in love with you.”
Gavin slides a hand down my neck, over my shoulder. “I love you.”
Their love professions are so very them, and with them I’m so very me.
We get in the car, and I spend the limo ride kissing my boyfriends. When we’re a few blocks away, I shoo them off, then fix my lipstick and straighten my hair.
We arrive at the gala and head inside.
I am the one with the entourage—a queen with her court.
68
THE FAKE OUT
Rhys
Fifteen more minutes and the awards begin. Fifteen minutes till our woman takes the stage to receive the prize.
I’m going to cheer the loudest.
Right now, the four of us are standing at a high table in the corner of the ballroom, chatting, toasting, enjoying life, and just being together when my phone buzzes with a text. I thought I’d silenced it. Grabbing it from my pocket, I see it’s the psychologist asking if Wednesday afternoon works for our next session.
Gavin shoots me an admonishing look. “Maybe turn that off.”
He makes a good point. But this is also a good opportunity. I haven’t told my friends yet. “I’m seeing a psychologist,” I say. “He specializes in athletes. It’s…helpful so far. I just need to confirm a time.”
Chastened perhaps, Gavin’s lips twitch in a curious grin. “Oh. My bad. And yeah, do it.”
