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“He isn’t going next to you.” I take another drink of water.
“Which room?” he asks.
“The green one.”
His eyes flick toward the ceiling as if he can see through it. “How long has it been ready?”
“A while.”
Jamie looks at me like I’ve just told him something much worse than I intended. Then he sets the pill back beside his fork. “Why the fuck do you need him when you already have me?”
I set my fork down.
Jamie’s expression hardens.
I look at the pill beside his plate, then back at him. “One gets lonely.”
His mouth twists. “I’m not lonely.”
“Two can be difficult too. They focus too much on each other. Or they decide they hate each other and make everything worse.” I reach across the table and take his wrist before he can pull it away. My thumb settles over the bracelet. “Three will be better. There’s always someone else.”
Jamie looks down at my hand. “For what?”
“Talking. Playing. Keeping each other company when I’m working or busy with one of the others.” I rub my thumb over one of the silver letters.
His eyes come back to mine. “Maybe I like sitting beside you.”
“I know. One doll shouldn’t expect to have me to himself.”
Jamie immediately looks annoyed with himself. He tries to pull his wrist away. I hold on.
I turn his hand over in mine and trace the inside of his wrist. I keep my voice gentle because this part matters. “I want this to work, Jamie.”
He looks at me for a long moment. The kitchen is quiet except for the refrigerator humming behind me. Jamie knows what happens if it doesn’t. His eyes drop to the table.
I squeeze his wrist once. “I picked better this time.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“It should.”
He lets out a slow breath and looks toward the ceiling again, toward the room waiting for Oliver. “What if I don’t like him?”
“Then you behave until you do.”
Jamie laughs once under his breath. “Of course.”
“You should want this.”
His eyes snap back to mine. “Why the fuck would I want another man living here?”
“Because I want to keep you.” I let go of his wrist.
“You think Oliver makes that more likely.”
“I know he does.”
He looks at me like he wants to argue again, but whatever he sees in my face stops him. “I still don’t want him here.”
