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“So Jamie tells me there’s a potential party coming up?” Valen asked.
“Potentially. We haven’t made any decisions yet,” Thatcher answered.
“Actually, we have. We’re going to have a party this weekend.” My announcement was greeted with a shocked look from Thatcher and Jamie, literally dropping his fork as it clattered to his plate loudly.
“We are?” Jamie questioned, eyeing me cautiously.
“We absolutely are. If people are going to talk anyway — and they are — then let’s get ahead of it and control the narrative. People may never understand our truth, but it’s a guarantee if we don’t actually tell them the truth. And fuck the rumor mill!”
The four of us raised our glasses and yelled, “Fuck the rumor mill!” Toasts and clinking drinks abounded as we laughed together.
We ate and drank the night away, laughing over stories of the younger versions of ourselves, and sharing thoughts about the future. It had the makings of the polycule I never knew I always needed. The four of us, happy and enjoying one another, happy for each relationship, but ultimately excited about the friendship and partnership forming at that table in that little tapas bar.
When the tables had mostly all cleared out and chairs were being lifted onto tables by the wait staff, we finally decided to call it.
“Valen, it was so good to meet you.” When they opened their arms up, I quickly pulled them into a hug. “You make Jamie happy, and that makes me happy,” I whispered.
“It was great to meet you, too. I’ve not met many couples like you and Jamie in the poly world. Some, sure, but it’s good to meet a married couple who respect and trust each other the way you two do.” Valen’s raw honesty was touching, and I hugged them again before turning back to Thatcher, allowing Valen and Jamie to say goodnight.
As soon as I was in front of him, he pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me.
“What a night, huh?” He murmured the words against my temple.
“It was wonderful. I just wish it didn’t have to end.” I sighed heavily, dreading our impending parting.
“What’s wrong, love?” He leaned away, but my fingers hooked into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him back.
“I don’t want to go.” I basically whined the words, pouting with my lower lip stuck out. It was completely out of character for me, but I found myself letting go around Thatcher, letting myself just live in the moment in a way I had never dared to do before.
“You want to stay here at the restaurant, or—”
“No, with you. I just… I’m not ready to say good night.”
“So what if we don’t?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking up at him through my lowered lashes.
“I mean,” he murmured against the shell of my ear as he pulled me in tighter. “Come home with me tonight.”
“We can’t.” I protested.
“Why not?”
“We’ve already been caught, Thatcher —”
“Exactly, Sadie. We’vealreadybeen caught. What’s to lose?”
“I don’t want to face more retribution before we come out and tell the truth.”
“If you really don’t want to come home with me, I respect that, but —”
“I want to come home with you so badly it hurts. It’s not that.”
“Then will you give me a chance? Let me make it comfortable for you?” he asked. His serene smile gave me hope. I nodded, and with a kiss to the back of my hand, he turned to Jamie, whispering conspiratorially.
A moment later, he was back.
“Okay, so here’s the plan. You’ll come home with me, and in the morning, I’ll take you out to breakfast, where we’ll meet Jamie. He can take you home, and no one will see. It’ll be easy as pie.”
