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I look at each of them, making sure that they know that my words are for each of them individually just as much as they are for the whole group. "So you have a choice right now. You can take this chance with me and fulfill that list. Or you can leave right now and spend the rest of your life wondering about what could have been."
It's loud around us, but it might as well just be the four of us for as much as it feels like we're in our own separate world.
"Are you in remission?" Quaid asks, and my stomach drops because I know that once I lie about this, they'll never forgive me when they find out the truth.
"Better than ever," I tell him brightly, even as the words burn like acid on my tongue.
Logan is the first to step towards me and take my hand, proving that the boy I knew is still inside of him. Logan was always the first with anything for me. My cheeks burn thinking of one particular first, and I push the thoughts away. Now is not the time.
Quaid is next, taking my other hand and making another shattered piece of me click back into place. It's honestly like we've stepped back into the past. This is always the way it went with the two of them leading and Carter hovering on the outskirts, taking his sweet time, making sure that I always knew he could walk away at any time.
I'm more aware of Quaid and Logan's touch than I've ever been of anything else. It's like there are tiny shocks floating from them into me. I don't take my gaze off of Carter though. If he walks away right now, the other two will still make my last days more than I could have ever dreamed. They’re in no way a consolation prize. But if Carter does choose to walk away from me, at least a part of me is going to suffer a premature death. For me, they were always a package deal, each completing me in different ways. And something would always be missing if one of them was gone.
Carter looks at me, and there's hate in his gaze. Time's made me weak, because the hate hits me in the chest, attempting to burrow inside of me and erase all the bravery—and liquor—that told me this was a good idea.
"Would you even care if I walked away?" Carter snarls at me. It's always been his first instinct to lash out before he can get hurt.
"You already know the answer to that," I tell him so softly, I'm not even sure he can hear me.
Carter lunges towards me suddenly, but I don't move away. A tortured growl rumbles from his chest as he slams his mouth over mine, open from the start, pressing his tongue inside. I let go of the other two and fist Carter's hair, pulling and pulling until we’re fastened together and I’m wrapped in his arms. This kiss is full of promises, and it goes on until my head spins, until the air is thick with tension and my body aches for his in a delicious, pulsing way.
Quaid clears his throat next to us, and I come back to Earth, feeling a little light-headed after the two passionate and unexpected kisses I've received in the last ten minutes.
Carter sighs, a potent elixir against my lips. Pulling back just enough for his gaze to find mine, he strokes his fingers along my jaw.
There are so many words that we need to say. The hate is still there in his eyes, but something that looks a lot like love is visible, too. And I can work with that.
I'm used to feeling apologetic about my feelings for the three of them, so when I finally look at the other two, my first instinct is to blush and want to avert my eyes.
I'm not doing that anymore, I tell myself, and instead, I take my time staring at each of them as if daring them to say something.
When no one does, a bright flash of hope courses over my body.
"We have a lot to talk about," I tell them. "But I'm so glad you're here."
Quaid slings his arm around my waist. "How about a little less talking and a lot more drinking," he suggests, a touch of nervousness threaded throughout his voice.
"There's a champagne bar at the top of the tower," I purr, tearing my gaze away from Quaid's gorgeous face to once again focus on the glittery splendor of the wonder in front of me.
"Lead the way, my lady," he tells me, beginning to walk me towards the entrance. Logan's hand touches my lower back, and a shiver runs through me. Carter follows silently behind us, as has always been his way, but I can feel his gaze on me as we walk.
We take an elevator to the second floor before switching to a different elevator to make our way up.
It's cold when we reach the top. The wind beats at us, but I don't mind, not when I have the Parisian nightscape sprawling before me.
It's actually a bit hard to concentrate on the jewel of a city, however, because I can't believe that they're really here. My pictures didn't do them justice. My internet stalking didn't either. They seem to be having the same problem, because I catch them looking at me every time as well.
There's an awkwardness in the air around us. None of us are sure what to say. That last time there were so many hard words spoken. I can still feel them hovering around us. My heart mourns for all the years when we could say anything to each other. The three men standing around me might as well be strangers.
Quaid pushes his hair off his face. It's much longer than he used to wear it growing up, and my hands itch to touch it. "Should we go inside?" he asks, and the rest of us nod, grateful for anything to break this stifling tension.
We walk into the champagne bar, and I immediately order a glass of white champagne that I gulp down. The guys are a bit disgruntled to find out that the champagne bar lives up to its name and that's the only thing they can order there, but they get their own flutes of champagne and we find ourselves a table in the crowded bar.
Quaid grimaces slightly as we sit down, and I'm reminded of his injury and the fact that he's here instead of rehabbing.
"How have you been feeling?" I ask him, and his face flushes at the question.
"You know about my injury?"
