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But once he did, it would be transportive. He’d drown in his work, and I’d stare at him, his paint brush in one hand and the capacity to strip my heart bare in the other.
I’d give all of myself to a person like this, a human who let his vulnerabilities define him, who took to paper or tablet to breathe new life—not just to what he was making, but the world around him.
This man could make me feel things. It sucked that he was entirely fictional, of course. But I’d been content living in that little make-believe world and picturing how our wedding would look. We’d have it in June, complete with daisies and a golden retriever.
And some cats too, no matter how hard Chelsea might protest.
In my entire life, though—and I’d lived long enough to get to a point where I believed I was done for in the romance department—I hadn’t imagined fictional hotties could exist in real life.
That had, of course, changed these last few weeks.
Only, I hadn’t factored in this impossible twist—the three men I’d been mooning over, staring at me like they were afraid I’d either collapse or punch their throats.
Was I supposed to feel angry or deceived? I didn’t think it was their fault for not disclosing who they were on the very first night.
Did it make me feel all kinds of exposed?
Kinda, yes.
“Why didn’t you tell me that night?” I stammered, unable to keep a twinge of annoyance from my voice. The three of them looked at each other and shuffled their feet like children.
Oh, my word. What was it with men, even the grown-up ones, that made them think we women judged and analyzed every action? Sometimes, all we really wanted was an honest conversation!
“We wanted to, Aurora,” Elijah volunteered, his eyes downcast like a guilty kid who’d been caught doing something naughty and was now trying to be his most endearing self.
I hated that it worked so well. Elijah had something intellectually visceral about him, a quality that made me want to swoon and rule over him at the same time.
Talk about unhealthy student-teacher relationships.
“We really did,” Noah chimed in. “But... we didn’t know how you’d take it. And all of us agreed that we’d stumbled on something we could not lose. But we knew this couldn’t go on unless you saw us as we are. Which is why... I mean... here... we... are...”
He mumbled the last words sheepishly. I wanted to laugh, but I was on my guard. No way were these guys going to see how flustered I felt. If this was going to happen, I needed to know there wouldn’t be any more deception.
Other than roleplaying, of course. The thought made my nerves tingle.
“Is this why you told me about reverse harems that night, Noah?” I barked, giving him the death stare. It was something I’d perfected as a kid, and boy, did it work.
Too well, actually. He looked around at the others, pleading for someone to take over and save his ass.
“We totally get why you’re mad at us, Rory,” Benjamin said, his voice subdued.
“We just wanted you to know that the three of us really like you. And that we’d like to be a part of your life, if you’d let us. But we totally get if it’s too much of an ask right now—especially if you feel like you can’t trust us.”
So, it had boiled down to one yes or no. I could choose to walk out right now. There was some leftover curry in the fridge at my apartment. It was damn good, too, spicy crab in a mildly sweet and creamy coconut emulsion. I could heat up some bread and enjoy a solitary meal.
Maybe read some books right after. Make a few lists to sort my head out.
That’d definitely be safe. I wouldn’t be out there, risking my heart with not one, but three gorgeous men, all a decade or more older than me. I knew nothing about their pasts or what brought them together, or why their eyes looked so haunted at times.
Yet, the idea of a curry at home did not make my heart sing. I’d lived on routine for far too long. I thrived on it, actually, particularly after grief and loss hollowed me out and made me think that hiding out in my apartment like a hibernating bear was infinitely better than taking chances.
Perhaps I’d forgotten the obvious in the pursuit of the mundane.I didn’t think I’d ever have choices.
And here they were, in front of me, not one, but a fucking triad. And each of them moved me in their own way.
Number One. Benjamin Moore, and his vision for the world and everything beyond. Sea green eyes, chocolate brown hair, a smile like cherry wine.
Number Two. Elijah Taylor was the most haunted of the lot. He had a devastating beauty to him. He was also my Mr. Darcy. Tall, dark hair, freckled like a Pinterest male model.
