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No one is insisting on doing things for me, no one is forcing sandwiches on me, no one is asking over and over how I am.
And yet, I know the second that I need a sandwich or a hug or an ibuprofen, I have three people who will give me whatever I need.
And they’ll take care of each other, so I don’t have to worry aboutthemneeding sandwiches or hugs or ibuprofen.
Fuck, this is amazing.
And yes, I absolutely want to marry Danielle Larkin.
But I don't want to do it without Nathan and Crew.
Ten minutes later, my mom stands up and stretches. "I'm going to get some juice."
I nod. "Sounds good."
She gives my shoulder a squeeze before making her way across the waiting room. Like Dani, Nathan, and Crew, she doesn't ask if I need anything, knowing that I'll tell her if I do.
After she leaves, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs and study my three…roommates. Best friends. Life partners.
That’s what they are. My best friends and my life partners.
I take a deep breath. “Hey,” I say softly.
Crew looks up. He reaches over and pokes Nathan, who opens his eyes and then rolls his neck and straightens.
"What’s up?" he asks, his voice a little gruff.
"I want to talk," I say.
"She need to hear this?" Crew asks, looking down at Dani.
I nod.
He runs a finger down her cheek. "Hey sweet girl, wake up,” he murmurs to her softly.
Dani stirs, rubbing her cheek against his thigh. Then her eyes flutter open.
Her gaze finds me immediately. She gives me a soft smile. "Hi."
I smile back, feeling so damned content, in spite of the reason we’re all here. "Hi,"
"Michael wants to talk,” Crew says.
"Okay.” She pushes herself up to sit and runs a hand through her hair to straighten it.
Nathan’s arm immediately goes to the back of the bench, behind her, and Crew’s hand rests on her thigh.
I know that they don’t consciously think about touching her. They do it instinctually. They just all want to be connected.
I completely get that.
We all need to be connected.
“I’m really fucking glad you’re all here,” I start.
Dani leans forward and reaches for me. “Come closer.”
I scoot my chair close so my knees nearly touch hers and we can link our fingers.
