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They close the door behind us with a soft click, and then all three start pulling off their shirts with deliberate, synchronized movements. I frown in confusion, my heart rate picking up for reasons I can’t quite identify. “What are you doing?”

Once their chests are bare, they turn to face me in perfect unison, and I notice the gauze patches taped to their skin over their hearts. The medical tape is white and clinical, at odds with the Christmas morning atmosphere.

Each of them peels back the tape to reveal fresh tattoos underneath, the skin slightly flushed and angry looking. But what makes my breath catch isn’t the obvious newness of the ink—it’s what the tattoos say. The word “mine” scrawled in my exact handwriting, as messy and impulsive as it looks when I scribble it on post-it notes and stick them on my lunch in the office fridge.

“When did you get these done?” I ask, my voice a whisper. My mind races back through the past twenty-four hours, trying to figure out when they could have possibly disappeared long enough for this. “Last night?”

“Yup. After you were knocked out,” Gabriel confirms with a hint of pride in his voice. “We paid a tattoo artist to make a house call around midnight.”

“No wonder you said you had a long night.” I shake my head in amazement, still staring at the fresh ink on their chests. The permanence of it hits me suddenly. They’ve literally marked themselves as mine. “But… are you sure you want something so permanent? What if⁠—”

“We absolutely want it,” Ford replies firmly, cutting off my doubts before I can voice them. “The more permanent the better. The mark you’ve left on us is already permanent, regardless of the tattoos.”

“Even if you disappeared tomorrow,” Gabriel says quietly, “we’d still belong to you. This just proves it.”

I wipe away the tears threatening to spill over, overwhelmed by what they’ve done. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere then.”

Gabriel’s lips curve upward, and I can see the possessive gleam in his eyes that I’ve come to love. “Smart girl. Because if you tried, I’d track you down and drag you back.”

He pulls me against him and kisses me thoroughly, his mouth warm and demanding, followed by Hayden and Ford in turn.

“I can’t believe this is what you got me for Christmas!” I laugh, playfully shoving at their chests, careful to avoid the fresh tattoos. “You permanently marked yourselves for me.”

“Oh, um, actually that wasn’t your gift,” Hayden says, looking almost sheepish. “That was for us. Your gift is something else entirely.”

“What?” I blink at them in confusion, my mind struggling to process that there’s more.

They move to their laptops scattered across the heavy wooden desk, opening them simultaneously with the kind of coordinated precision that speaks to how long they’ve worked together.

“Your business plans were incredibly detailed,” Hayden says, his voice taking on that professional tone he uses when he’s proud of something they’ve accomplished. “Surprisingly thorough for someone who was ‘just dreaming.’ They were actually easy to implement.”

I step closer to the screens, trying to process what I’m seeing. Property deeds with my name on them. Construction contracts with detailed timelines. Architectural renderings that show a building exactly like what I’ve sketched in notebooks for years. Detailed mockups of a restaurant interior that looks like it was pulled directly from my dreams—exposed brick walls, rustic wooden tables, an open kitchen where diners can watch the magic happen, floor-to-ceiling windows that would flood the space with natural light.

“You were willing to sacrifice everything to help us chase our ambitions.” Hayden’s tone is softer now, more personal. “Seemed like it was our turn. The property is yours, free and clear. Construction starts in spring.”

I’m speechless. The scope of what they’ve done—the planning and expense and sheer audacity of it—hits me like a freight train. This isn’t just a gift; it’s my entire future handed to me on a silver platter. So instead of trying to find words that don’t exist, I throw myself at them and kiss each one like my life depends on it, pouring all my shock and gratitude and overwhelming love into it.

Christmas morning doesn’t get much better than this.

60

MAEVE

When our visit ends in the new year, I feel like a different person from who I was when I first landed in Colorado. Not just because of everything that’s happened between me and the guys, but because I actually know who I am now. What I want. What I’m worth.

Gabriel grabs my luggage as we head down to the car, and my mind is already spinning with everything I need to tackle for the restaurant. Menu planning, hiring, figuring out how the hell you actually run a business when you’ve only ever dreamed about it. The men are itching to get back to work properly too—I can see it in the way they’ve been checking their phones more frequently, the way Ford’s jaw tightens when he reads certain emails.

And honestly? I’m excited to start this new chapter. Dating three incredible men who somehow all complement each other perfectly while being different. Yeah, that’s going to be interesting.

Elaine, Charles, and Lydia are all waiting in the foyer to see us off. Elaine hugs each of the men tightly, and it hits me how she really does see Gabriel and Hayden as her sons, not just Ford. It makes sense now why she was able to accept our unconventional relationship so quickly. She wasn’t choosing one son over another—she was choosing three sons over one toxic one.

She pulls me into a fierce hug that smells like expensive perfume and genuine warmth. “I’m so glad I got to really know you this time. Next visit better not be at Christmas though—you need to drag these boys home more often.”

I glance over at Ford and Charles, who are actually hugging. Ford looks shocked that it’s happening, but in a good way. Like he can’t quite believe his father initiated it.

“I think I can manage that,” I say, meaning it.

Lydia practically tackles me for a hug. “You have to visit me at school! Or I can skip a few classes and come see you in the city.”