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"I misspoke," Santino hits back.
"Jericho belongs toeachof us," I grit out. "We all crave him equally. We’ll bring him pleasure together. Play with him. Unearth his sweet side. Help him get over whatever trauma made him so tough."
Lazaro hits me with a side eye. "How do you know he has a sweet side?"
"A man can sense these things. No boy that fierce doesn’t have an ooey gooey interior. He’s put up walls. Big, strong walls that he needs three Daddies to tear down."
Lazaro hrmphs. "I, for one, think we picked ourselves up a brat."
Santino glares at Lazaro. "Don’t speak about my boy like that."
"Ourboy," I remind him. "If you keep this up, we’re going to have a problem."
Santino palms his forehead. "This poly thing will take some getting used to."
Lazaro places his arm on Santino’s. "It’s a learning experience for all of us. Don't beat yourself up."
"It’s tough when Marcello won’t let me forget my shortcomings."
I turn to Santino. "As long as you remember that Jericho isours, we won’t have a problem."
Santino leans back on a patio chair with a glass of limoncello. "We need to establish ground rules. No getting jealous. No fighting amongst ourselves. This willbenefitus—we’re not going to lose our bond over a boy."
"Well," Lazaro says, "Jericho hasn’t even arrived for our date yet. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."
"No." I lift my right hand. "Santino’s right."
"I know I am." Santino woke up on the right side of the bed today.
My eyes narrow. "We’ll keep this relationship low angst.Zerobickering amongst ourselves over Jericho. Whatever conflict we have, we’ll resolve immediately. No whining fests."
I love being the mature one of the group. If I had a third hand, I’d pat myself on the back.Or beat myself off nonstop. Yeah, I’ve thought about that.
Lazaro lifts a brow. "Zero bickering?"
"I fail to see how that’s possible," Santino says.
I cross my arms over my chest. "I meant zero fighting."
"Again," Lazaro says. "All we do is fight in this family. You’re setting us up for failure."
My fingers clench into fists. "No fighting over our boy."
Lazaro steals a sip of Santino’s limoncello. "He’ll arrive soon. What are we planning again?"
"Hey," Santino growls. "No stealing my drink."
Lazaro turns to me. "See? We’re already fighting. This is impossible."
A growl escapes my clenched teeth. "Quit acting like schoolgirls."
The sound of approaching footsteps reaches our ears.
"Iknowyou didn’t just compare your brothers to schoolgirls." Nonna sticks her chin up. "Schoolgirls are ten times more mature than y’all."
"Don’t say y’all, Nonna," I drawl. "You’re not from Texas."
"I’m in my eighties," she hits back. "At this age, I can say whatever I want."
