by Everly Lucas
There’s no jealousy. No possessiveness. These two men loved each other—as friends, as brothers, as family—for a long time before I came along. To my eternal awe and amazement, they both love me, too.
They love me for who I am and who I was before. The past I hated myself for, all the years of self-inflicted punishment—those things aren’t important, anymore. Their only significance is that they brought me closer to the best thing that’s ever happened to me. They brought me to the men who made me want again…want to give in to desire and open myself up to love.
When I was broken, they didn’t try to fix me. They just loved me until my pieces fit themselves back together.
Right here, in this bed with me, are my two final pieces.
I have it all, now. The slow-building fire that consumes me from the inside out and the explosive, destructive inferno.
And me? I’m the flame. I’ll never stop burning again.
Epilogue
The air is sweet with the scent of the Azaleas now in full bloom all over the park. On a spring day as pretty as this, Rittenhouse Square is as crowded as I’ve ever seen it. If you ask me, it’s the heart of the city, where our cultures, wealth, and education mean nothing. We’re all just here to enjoy the day. The breakdancers by the fountain. The string quartet off one of the main paths. The college kids. The couples. The families…
Though, I doubt any family here is quite like mine.
From our spot under the large maple tree we’ve come to think of as ours, I watch Andy toss the Frisbee across the lawn. Cannoli takes off like a rocket, getting great air as he leaps to catch it. He hasn’t let that disc hit the ground once.
Claire’s head rests on my lap, her wild, red hair fanned out behind her, draped over my thigh and spilling down to the quilt. I stroke the soft strands, watching her angel face as she reads the erotic paperback in her hand.
That’s my girl.
Our girl.
It was nineteen months ago that the three of us spent our first unforgettable night together. We’ve shared the same bed ever since. Andy no longer needed his own apartment, so I restored the house to its original design to give us more space, which came in handy not long after. Neither one of us was willing to go an entire night without touching Claire, without making love to Claire. Not that she would’ve let us.
Crazy as it may seem, loving the same incredible woman has only brought Andy and me closer as friends. More importantly, being loved by her, equally and fully, has strengthened a bond that was already unbreakable.
Unashamed of the life we’d chosen, we decided to deliver the news to our families as soon as possible. Claire’s mother, Dawn, and my family joined us for dinner the following weekend. I can assure you, there is no silence quite as profound as the one that comes from telling your parents you’re in a lifelong threesome.
Even though I hadn’t told Leah my plan the night I’d sent her to Claire’s place, she was unsurprised by the outcome—and thrilled for us. Dawn was the first parent to come around, espousing the liberal, as-long-as-you’re-happy philosophy.
My mom, on the other hand, refused to speak to me for an entire month, while she—as she put it—mourned the loss of the future she’d envisioned for me. But when Lydia was born, nine months ago, Mom was too thrilled with her first granddaughter to care about our unconventional relationship, anymore.
Andy has our daughter cradled in his arm like a pale, chubby football. We’re convinced Claire cloned herself and secretly carried her mini-Claire for nine months, with no genetic assistance from us, at all. Lydia has the same bright red hair and soft blue eyes, and she’s already as special and breathtakingly beautiful as her mother. Andy and I know we’re in for a world of trouble with those two.
We can’t wait.
Cannoli trots over, and Claire puts down her book to scratch behind his ears as he sniffs her flat belly. It’s amazing the things dogs can sense. Claire isn’t even showing, but somehow he knows a new life is growing in there.
We don’t know who Lydia’s biological father is, or the baby Claire’s carrying now. It doesn’t matter. These are our children—mine and Andy’s and Claire’s. This is our family. The family I never expected and could never imagine living without.
The End.
Playlist
“You Caught the Light” ~ Chvrches
“Fire Meet Gasoline” ~ Sia
“Bloodstream” ~ Stateless
“Hey Love” ~ Jason Mraz
“Glory Box” ~ Portishead
“Precious Things” ~ Tori Amos
“Code Blue” ~ The Dream
“I’d Die Without You” ~ P.M. Dawn
“Love Letter” ~ Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds
“Baker Baker” ~ Tori Amos
“New York” ~ Snow Patrol
“Angel” ~ Massive Attack
“The Way I Was” ~ Jem and the Holograms Soundtrack
Acknowledgments
A year and a half ago, I found myself with a lot of extra time and not much to fill it with. So I wrote. I wasn’t any good, and I had no clue what I was doing, but I knew I was hooked.
And that’s where the thanks come in.
Thank you to everyone who read and commented on the original incarnation of this story. The idea of publishing had never crossed my mind, and it never would have if not for you.
Thank you to Olivia Matin, my first writer buddy, my biggest cheerleader, and my favorite sounding board. You’ve been with this book since it was just a spark in my imagination. One of these days, you and I need to go on an Alaskan retreat and write naughty stories while eating gooey chocolate cake and drinking Mexican apple soda.
Thank you to Abby Ryan, Peter Dawes, Wendy Gold, Susan Scott Shelley, Xio Axelrod, and the rest of the Philly Romance Writers.
Thank you to Penny, for beta reading and providing me with my first-ever book review.
Thank you to Linda Kage, one of my favorite authors and now my guide into the overwhelming world of self-publishing. You took a chance on a newbie writer who, for all you knew, might not have been able to string two words together. I look forward to paying you back and paying it forward whenever I can.
Lastly, and most importantly, thank you to my family. I don’t know where I’d be without your support in all things. I just hope you didn’t read this book. It’s kinda dirty. Love you, though!
About the Author
Everly Lucas lives in Philadelphia with her laptop and two special cats. She loves Dr. Pepper, sparkly stuff, blissful silence, and singing while doing the dishes.
After years of falling for heroes and rooting for couples created by other authors, she decided to create her own. She now has a crowd of characters hanging out in her head, with no intention of kicking them out.
Everly can be found on Twitter, like, all the time.
everlylucas.com
[email protected]
