“None, Ms. King.” He pauses, his eyes flicking to mine in the mirror before returning to the road. “And if I may add, I haven’t seen him this excited in a long time.”
Worry seeps into my gut. “I was afraid you’d say that, Carl.”
Stephen McKinley doesn’t do anything in half measures. He’s all in, balls to the wall, giving two-hundred percent of himself. He moves with the force of a barreling train.
But I can’t give him what he’s hoping for. I can’t be a pseudo-momandbe in a poly relationship. How would that even work?
Visions of the three of us living in my sister’s house with Avery and Alyssa flash through my mind. Chance and Avery painting in the dining room while Stephen runs around the backyard with Alyssa; me moving around them in the kitchen as Stephen chops vegetables and Chance stirs a pot of sauce; the three of us snuggling under the covers as we fall asleep at night.
My skin warms at the memory of how it felt to be loved by the two of them. The way they treated me, the way they cared for me.
Longing grips my heart in a vice. I’ve missed them. I miss the way they made me feel, and I miss the person I was with them. And now that they’re back, I can’t help but want it all back again.
Maybe it’d work behind closed doors—and that’s a big maybe with two children—but it definitely wouldn’t work on the outside. I can already hear the things other parents would say about us. The way they’d judge us, and keep their children away from mine. And that can’t happen. My responsibility is to those kids, and I won’t let anything stop them from having the best lives.
I have to shut this down. Stephen and Chance need to know that we can’t be what we once were.
No matter how deeply I crave it.
The aromaof sauteed garlic and onions fill the house as soon as I step inside.
But it’s the sound of people that take me by surprise.
I creep through the hallway and spot Stephen, alone with several large men, sitting on my couch, shouting over a video game as Alyssa howls with laughter, playing right in the middle of them. Judging by their size, I assume they’re Stephen’s teammates who attended the assembly at Avery’s school today.
Inching further into the house, I peer into the kitchen. Avery stands beside Chance at the stove, listening intently to whatever Chance is explaining to him. Something about flavors and temperatures.
In the dining room, four women sit around the set table, sipping glasses of wine.
Before I can sneak back into the hallway and dart up the stairs to change and make myself look presentable, the redhead makes eye-contact with me.
“Oh, hey.” She stands and rounds the corner of the table with her wine glass. “You must be Presley... and wondering what we’re all doing in your house.”
I laugh. “Correct on both accounts.”
She wraps an arm around me and pulls me in for a hug. “I’m Celeste, one of Jason’s wives. This is our wife, Kourtney,” she gestures to a pretty brunette who waves from her seat at the table. “This is Cassidy, Trenton’s wife.” A curvy brunette with a warm smile raises her hand. “And this is Aarya, Alexander’s wife.” Another dark-haired beauty shoots me a wink.
I give everyone a big wave. “Hi, ladies. Uh, I’m assuming your husbands are all Goldfinches?”
Celeste slaps her forehead. “Duh, you’ve never met them before. Yes, they’re the giant dudes in your living room playing video games like five-year-olds.”
These women are stunning, as different as they all look. My brain tries to keep track of who Celeste said they were each married to. “I’m sorry, did you say you and Kourtney are both married to Jason?”
Celeste beams. “We’re a threesome. We’ve been best friends since high school. It’s a whole thing. I’ll tell you the story sometime.”
I arch a brow, completely intrigued by this news. A real-life poly relationship. It’s like the universe heard my thoughts earlier, and is showing me that it’s possible.
“So, what’s going on between you and Mac?” Celeste asks. “I’m going to need all the details because up until today, I had no idea you existed.”
Kourtney laughs as she stands and places her hand on Celeste’s forearm. “Why don’t you let the poor woman get settled before you start interrogating her. She hasn’t even put her things down yet.”
I’m literally standing in the middle of the room holding a dripping wet umbrella and two large work bags.
Alyssa pops into the dining room. “Aunt Presley, you’re home! Come into the living room. You have to meet the team. We’re playing NHL 24 and I totally kicked their asses—” She freezes and clamps her hand over her mouth. “Their butts. I totally kicked their butts.”
Damn Stephen and his potty mouth.
Stephen joins us, and scoops my things into his hands, leaning in to press a kiss on my cheek. “Hey, pretty girl. How was your massage? Are you feeling relaxed now?”
