Stitches

by Sam Mariano

  My mind is wandering to places it shouldn’t when I’m in a ballroom full of people, so I turn back around and grab my drink, tipping it back, shifting to accommodate the slight bulge in my pants. Just a couple more hours.

  Suddenly, a brunette woman in a long black gown comes up to my table, offering me a little smile. “You guys sure know how it’s done, don’t you?” she remarks.

  Since I’ve never seen her before and I damn sure don’t know what she’s talking about, I raise a questioning eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  She indicates our table, which should seat eight. We bought out the table just for the three of us. “You must really like your space.”

  “Bad table manners,” I offer back, lightly. “Didn’t want to embarrass ourselves.”

  Grinning, she drops into the empty seat beside mine. “You’re Griffin Halliwell, right?”

  I don’t know why she knows me, since I sure don’t recognize her. “Yep, that’s me.”

  Her smile dims and she nods. “I just wanted to stop over and say how sorry I am for your loss. I think it’s beautiful that you’re doing all this in tribute to your wife. You must have really loved her.”

  That drains the humor right out of me.

  Noticing that, she grimaces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m sure tonight sucks enough, and there I go—”

  I raise a hand to stop her, shaking my head. “You’re fine. Thanks.”

  She’s still sitting here and I don’t really know what to say, so I grab my glass and take another drink. Her eyes go straight to my left hand, to the wedding band on my finger. “You still wear your ring,” she remarks.

  I look at my hand, now that she mentions it. “Uh, no. I mean, yeah, I wear a ring, but it’s not…”

  It would be complicated to explain to someone who wasn’t sitting here offering me condolences at my dead wife’s benefit, but I can’t even begin to explain it under these circumstances. Normally people see the ring, but know just enough not to ask about it.

  “I think it’s sweet,” she says, somehow mistaking my hesitation for something else.

  “I’m not in mourning. It’s not like that.”

  For some reason, she slightly brightens.

  Everything I say somehow comes off as positive to her, so I just stop talking. I feel like I’m digging myself a hole—probably my own guilty conscience, but it’s still uncomfortable.

  “Do you dance?” she asks.

  “What?”

  Nodding her head toward the floor, she says, “I think they’re about to play another slow one. I mean, if you think it would be weird, I understand, but if not….”

  I didn’t see that coming at all, so I’m sitting here dumbstruck when Moira comes back and leans down behind me, wrapping her arms around my neck and leaning close. My new friend’s eyes widen at the clear show of affection/ownership.

  “Am I interrupting?” Moira asks.

  “Not at all,” I assure her, placing my hand over hers.

  The newcomer’s gaze drops to Moira’s hand beneath mine, to her wedding band that matches mine. She can’t see Seb’s hand as he walks around to his seat, but if she could she’d see he has the exact same one. Even without knowing that, she’s wildly confused.

  “Sorry,” I tell her, pushing back from the table and putting a hand on Moira’s waist. “This dance is spoken for.”

  Moira doesn’t say anything when we’re standing there, but as I haul her away, she says, “All your dances are spoken for, mister, not just this one.”

  I grin at her possessiveness. “You’re allowed to have two lovers but I’m not allowed to dance with another woman?”

  “Absolutely,” she verifies, with a vehement nod.

  I smile down at her as I pull her close on the dance floor. “You’re the only one I want to dance with, anyhow,” I assure her.

  Her blue eyes sparkle with warmth as she secures her arms around my neck and sways with me. “Good.”

  I hold Moira close as the song goes on, breathe her in when she rests her head against my shoulder and sighs. I love when she does that. I love when I can feel her contentment rolling off of her in waves. This is my home. Not the house we all live in together or the bed where we fall asleep each night.

  This. This is where I want to live, in moments like these. With Moira pressed against me, the smell of her, the taste of her…

  Well, hell, I can’t taste her right now, can I?

  Gently lifting her chin until she pulls back, I lean down and fix that. I taste her lips and she opens for me so readily. Even here, in this crowd full of people, her hunger for me bleeds out of her in soft little sighs, in the way her heart rate kicks up. Her teeth catch my bottom lip and I growl low in my throat, yanking her hips against mine.

  “Keep that up, baby, I’ll haul your little ass right out of this ballroom.”

  Grinning as she lingers close, she teases, “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

  “Nope,” I murmur, leaning in the nibble on her ear. “It’s a promise.”

  Her head drifts forward and sags against my shoulder. “Stop tempting me. You know we can’t leave. Between you and Seb, I swear to God, you make it impossible for a girl to get a night out with clothes on.”

  “You prefer a night in with clothes off,” I point out.

  “I do,” she agrees, strongly. “Why do we ever leave the house? We should stop doing that. There’s nothing for us out here.”

  As if to emphasize her point, I catch an older woman watching us, her mouth pursed in disapproval. After a few months of keeping things quiet about our relationship, Sebastian decided it was time to take it public. He wanted to control the narrative, he said. Didn’t want people thinking me and Moira were doing anything we shouldn’t. Moira, of course, was fine with whatever he wanted, but I was a little more worried about it. Ultimately, though, I wanted to be able to take Moira out from time to time, and I wanted to be able to kiss and touch her the same way he could. I didn’t want anyone thinking anything bad about Moira either, so I came around to it.

  Most people who found out where surprised. Some didn’t care; a couple thought it was interesting; some thought it was weird, and a few became irrationally outraged by our situation. The woman glaring daggers at Moira’s back right now is one of them. On impulse, I run my hand protectively down her back, like I can fend off her bitter disapproval. Of course, I can’t. The judgmental old broad hones in on the wedding band I wear to symbolize my commitment to our relationship, and her lip curls up in disgust.

  Keeping my hand on Moira’s back protectively, I close my hand but for my middle finger. The old biddy gasps, her gaze jumping to mine, and I give her my most charming smile as I flip her off.

  Mind your business, lady.

  Now she huffs and storms off the dance floor like I’ve ruined her night.

  Oh well. She sure hasn’t ruined mine. I still get to hold the most beautiful woman in the room and call her mine. I get to build a life and a family with my two best friends. Somehow all three of us were lucky enough to find each other; this perfect mix of cast-offs the world didn’t have a proper place for. We made a place.

  A lot of people look at us and see something bizarre, something sordid, maybe something sad. They look at us and think we share because we have to.

  We don’t have to share; we get to.

  The End

  Notes and Acknowledgements

  I hope you enjoyed the story of Sebastian, Griff, and Moira! If you enjoyed Stitches and feel like shouting about it, a review would be much-appreciated! :)

  If you’re new to my books and you enjoyed this one, make sure you check out my Morelli family series! I wrote this book (Sebastian, in particular) after completing that one; I was trying to come down from my Morelli hangover and transition into my next project. If you like your love interests with a touch of darkness, Mateo Morelli has it in spades.

  That series isn’t a ménage romance. (There are some excessively hot ménage fantasy delete
d scenes in the last book, though, which is sort of what inspired me to write a full-length ménage love story.) The journey the Morelli family takes you on is ten kinds of crazy, and lots of sexy fun. It gets a little darker than this one, though, so if you have dark romance triggers, it may not be a great fit. If you don’t, run and grab Accidental Witness so you can #meetthemorellis!

  Accidental Witness (Morelli Family, #1)

  Amazon: http://amzn.to/2hUyVk2

  Amazon UK: My Book

  Amazon CA: My Book

  Amazon AU: My Book

  If you’re looking for the Sam Mariano club house, I have a reader group on Facebook you could join. :)

  Sam Mariano’s general reader group

  Special thank you to the people who helped me make this book what it is: Jennifer Curtis, alpha reader extraordinaire. Now you have plenty of Sebastian to enjoy! Ginger, Krista, and Sara—thank you for your input and your eagle eyes, helping me iron out those pesky wrinkles! Thank you so much to Ajee for making my gorgeous cover!

  As always, thank you to the wonderful ARC readers and bloggers who help spread the word! You guys are the greatest!

  Thank you for reading!

  - Sam Mariano

  About the Author

  Sam Mariano loves to write edgy, twisty love stories with complicated characters you’re left thinking about long after you turn the last page. Her favorite thing about indie publishing is the ability to play by your own rules! If she isn’t reading one of the thousands of books on her to-read list, writing her next book, or playing with her adorable preschooler… actually, that’s about all she has time for these days.

  Feel free to find Sam on Facebook, Goodreads, Twitter, or her blog—she loves hearing from readers! She’s also available on Instagram now @sammarianobooks, and you can sign up for her totally-not-spammy newsletter HERE

  If you have the time and inclination to leave a review, however short or long, she would greatly appreciate it! :)