The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3)

by Nikki Sloane

  The air in the room went horribly thin.

  He’d essentially said he wished they’d never become friends, and it was so hurtful, I felt it deep inside. It was worse than any strike of a paddle and more damaging than the tail of a whip.

  But the hurt and the destruction didn’t show on Travis’s face. It was only his tight shoulders and flexed muscle along his jaw that gave away how he was feeling. “Okay, then.” His voice was bitter like he couldn’t stand the taste of his words. “Let’s correct that.” He got out of his seat and pushed the chair in with a loud thump. “See you around.”

  And when he left, he took part of my heart with him, and any chance of our trio surviving.

  My body was locked up, becoming an immobile cage. I simply stared in disbelief at Clay while my anguish ripped me apart. It wasn’t until the front door slammed closed and the security system chirped that I was able to move.

  It must have been the same for him because he took off his glasses, tossed them down on the table with a clatter, and pitched his face forward into his hands. Frustration seeped from every pore of him as he raked his fingers through his hair.

  I couldn’t tell if he was speaking to me or himself. “It wasn’t supposed to go like that. That’s not how I planned it.”

  He cared more about his design than anything else, and right now I couldn’t care less. I sucked in a sharp breath, wiped a tear from my cheek, and placed my hands on the tabletop to push myself up onto my feet.

  “You’re leaving?” He had the audacity to look betrayed.

  It was spoken in my voice, but it sounded distant and cold. “You said it yourself. There’s nothing left to say.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  When I came out of Clay’s house, I discovered Travis’s SUV was gone.

  No, not gone—it’d been moved.

  He’d parked in my driveway and was sitting in the driver’s seat, looking deep in thought. The moment he saw me, he got out and concern filled his face.

  It was dark outside, but he was illuminated by the exterior lights on my parents’ garage, and I watched him strangle back the desire to rush forward and pull me in his arms. I’d told him I loved him, but also that I loved another man, and he wasn’t sure where he stood now.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to walk out on you, but I needed to get out of there. Nothing I said was going to help.”

  “No, I get it.” I didn’t blame him for leaving. “But he doesn’t mean it. I know he cares a lot about you, so I don’t know why he said it.”

  Travis grimaced. “I do.” He nodded toward the gate that led to my house. “Can we talk?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  He’d been in my place before. The night of Cassidy’s birthday he’d stayed over, but we’d both been tipsy and the moment we’d made it through my door, he’d been calling Clay so he could watch us. We’d both had to be up early for work, and Travis hadn’t stayed long the next morning.

  Tonight, he looked around the space like he was seeing it for the first time. He gave a half-smile at the laundry basket that was overflowing with scrubs, understanding the never-ending battle to keep them clean.

  He took a seat on one side of my couch in the living area, and his gaze sought mine. He hoped I’d join him, but I was too frantic inside to sit still. Instead, I paced around the room, wanting to escape my emotions but not sure how.

  When it was clear I wasn’t going to join him, Travis sighed. “I told him he was scared, but it’s not just that. I think he’s freaking out.”

  Irritation directed towards Clay glanced through me. “Because he doesn’t like when things don’t go according to plan?”

  “That’s part of it, yeah. He likes being in control and maybe he thinks he’s losing that. But he’s mostly freaking out because of . . . well, me.”

  I pulled to a stop. “What?”

  Travis wiped a hand over his mouth, hesitating for a moment, before giving in. “The first session I did with Clay wasn’t sexual. BDSM can be non-sexual kink, but he didn’t have experience with that. So, since we were both straight, we decided one of the goals of the scene would be to gauge our comfort level. Which, as it turned out, was high.”

  I drifted closer, pulled in by the gravity of him.

  “We had our conversation after it was over, and I tell him I’m good if he wants to try more. I felt like I was, I don’t know, expanding? Two years ago, I wasn’t into anything beyond vanilla stuff, and now I can’t seem to get enough. I want to learn everything, which made me wonder. What if there’s more out there? Stuff I didn’t think I’d like, but then it turns out, I’m into it?”

  I sank down on the couch, blown away by what he was saying and how freely he was willing to share with me.

  “I told him I was . . .” He searched for the right word and then found it. “Open.” His shoulders lifted with a heavy breath. “He said he was comfortable with that, so our next session was more intense—and sexual. He made me jerk off, and if I didn’t come fast enough for him, he showed me what a riding crop felt like.”

  Oh, fuck me.

  I squeezed my knees together and tried to stop the image in my mind, but it was unavoidable. I saw a naked Travis standing in front of Clay, who impatiently tapped the riding crop on the palm of his hand as he watched the other man pleasure himself.

  “I enjoyed the scene,” he said, “and it was obvious he did too, but I think that scared him. He didn’t want to like it. He was fine that night, but the next day he was weird.”

  I remembered what he’d said when we’d talked about it at the bar. “He started to pull away.”

  He nodded. “You remember the first time I saw you at the club? I waved to Clay, he waved back, and then he just led you away. I sat at the table for a long time thinking he’d brought you there to prove how straight he was to me, or maybe himself. Which is fine. I identify as straight too.” He tilted his head. “Straight, but curious.”

  I slid closer to him and put my hand on his that rested on the couch cushion. “That’s how I’d describe myself.”

  “I care about him a lot and I love the three of us together. It doesn’t turn me off if things get sexual with him, and sometimes . . . well, it’s a turn-on, but that’s all it is. I don’t have romantic feelings for him. Before you, I didn’t sit around and wonder what he was doing or how his day was going.”

  That was surprising. “Are you saying you do that now?”

  He gave me sheepish smile and used a hand to rub the back of his neck. “He’s a part of us. You have to know, when we talk and plan out our time together, everything is about you. You’re all he’s focused on, and every decision he makes is so we can give you the best possible scene. How can I not like a guy who cares so much about the same person I care about?”

  I sighed. My heart both swelled and hurt.

  Travis turned his hand beneath mine and threaded our fingers together. “The threesome rattled him. He let his guard down, we got inside, and now he’s freaking out. He puts up a good front, but he’s not as comfortable as he pretends to be.”

  God, he was so right. I’d seen hints at Clay’s insecurity, but I hadn’t paid enough attention. “And then I sprang being a throuple on him.”

  “It’s going to be okay. You told him you want this, and he loves you. He’s going to want this as badly as we do, he . . . just hasn’t figured it out yet. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “Good. He may know what you need,” he lifted our joined hands and dropped a kiss on my fingers, “but I know what he needs, and that’s time. He has to get comfortable with who he is, and what we could be.”

  Fuck, I hoped he was right.

  Travis didn’t stay overnight. He didn’t ask, and he probably felt the same as I did. Even though our relationship with Clay was now a huge question mark, it would have been wrong to sleep together. Instead, I let him tuck me under his arm and distract me with talk
about his work. At times, his days weren’t that different than mine, except he cared for a much wider and more exciting variety of animals.

  We didn’t hear from Clay over the weekend. I had a short text exchange with Travis, but he was on-call both nights because one of the zebras was pregnant and he was on foal watch.

  Monday also passed without a word from Clay.

  As I came home from work, I tried not to look for signs he was home. Travis had said to give him space. That he needed time. Since he was back in Nashville, I didn’t check on Noir, even though it killed me not to. He was always good with her on the weekends when he was home, so I assumed he had it covered.

  Eventually we were going to have to talk though, even if it was a post-divorce custody discussion.

  Tuesday afternoon, when I was helping prep a dalmatian for radiographs, my phone vibrated with a text. I finished my work, then ducked into a corner to check the message.

  Clay: Can we talk?

  Me: I’m at work.

  Clay: I meant this evening.

  I lifted an eyebrow. The days of silence from him had left me hurt and angry. He’d said he was falling for me, and yet he’d given up on us so fast. I missed him. How wasn’t he missing us?

  Me: Will Travis be there too?

  The dots flickered and disappeared. Finally, his text came through.

  Clay: I’d like to talk to you alone.

  Me: Sorry. I’m busy tonight.

  It was a lie, but I wasn’t going to meet with him on my own because we needed to talk about this together.

  Clay: How about tomorrow?

  Me: If Travis isn’t there, then I’m still busy.

  He had no response to that.

  Since he’d reached out, I figured now was as good a time as any.

  Me: I haven’t been over to see Noir. How’s she doing?

  Clay: Fine. She misses you.

  My breath caught because there was no way he was talking about our aloof cat. Noir was a paradigm of the independent woman. As long as she had food, she didn’t need anyone. Every now and again she liked affection, but it was always on her terms, and the rest of the time she was indifferent.

  Me: I miss her too. A lot.

  No new messages came through. I wanted to arrange some alone time with her, but we were swamped at the clinic, and I couldn’t leave patients waiting on me any longer. I tucked my phone back into my pocket and made a mental note to set something up with him later.

  Time dragged as I went about my work trying not to think about the two men I loved, and my frustration that we couldn’t be together. It was one of those days where nothing went right. I banged my head on an open cabinet during an exam, which hurt like hell and made me look like an idiot in front of the patient’s owner. I spilled my water on a vaccination chart and had to start over. When I put on my latex gloves, the finger tore, and I nearly burst into tears.

  I was coming apart.

  What if Travis was wrong? What if Clay wanted to talk to me alone because he was going to try to convince me we should go back to the beginning before Travis entered the picture?

  The clinic stopped taking patients at four, which meant it was at least five before I was usually done. I was still getting the overnight patients settled for the evening when a text came through.

  Travis: Got a second to talk?

  Me: Sure.

  My screen changed as he called, only it was through FaceTime. Which, of course, because I looked like garbage. But I was too eager to see him. I tapped the icon to accept.

  “Hi,” I said.

  Like me, he appeared to be at work. The background behind him was just a white wall, but he was in his zoo uniform scrubs and had a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

  “Hi,” he answered back. He had a huge smile, possibly the biggest I’d ever seen from him. Much too big for it simply to be him happy to see me.

  Some of the animals in their crates around me were vocal with their displeasure about their accommodations for the evening, and it was hard to hear Travis over the barking.

  “Hold on.” I darted out into the empty and quiet staff breakroom. “What’s up?”

  “I meant to call you earlier,” he disappeared as he flipped the phone around, “but I got sidetracked by this little guy.”

  A stall came into view, and the first thing to leap out was the black and white stripes. The camera panned from mom down to the newborn foal resting amongst the hay on the floor, his legs tucked to the side. As his mom ambled toward him, his dark ears twitched, and he turned his head to briefly nuzzle with her.

  “Oh, my God! He’s gorgeous,” I said. The baby zebra was just as vividly striped as his mother, only his were more brown than black. He was just the cutest thing ever too. “How’d it go?”

  “Great. He’s been up and walking already. Mom’s doing good too.”

  This explained Travis’s huge smile. It was the first live birth he’d overseen since starting at the zoo, and I was so thrilled for him that it had been uneventful.

  The camera swung back around so he came into view, and then he was on the move, walking away from the stalls.

  “So, I don’t have a lot of time to talk,” he said, “but Clay called me.”

  I paused, surprised. “Oh, yeah?”

  He went through a door and out into a big hallway, which made his voice echo. “You should go over there tonight and talk to him.”

  I was dubious. “Without you?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to be here at least another eight hours, and it’s okay. We talked already.” There was a lightness in him, and I wondered if it was all from the new foal, or if part of it was a result of his discussion with Clay.

  “What’d you talk about?”

  Travis got to wherever he was going to, which must have been his office. He shut the door, unclipped his radio from his belt, and set it down on his messy desk so he could take a seat behind it. In the corner, I saw the cot where he’d probably slept last night.

  “He apologized and he,” Travis’s voice filled with weight, “told me he loved me.”

  The phone slipped out of my hand, landing with a loud thud on the breakroom table, and I scrambled to pick it up. “He did?”

  “Yeah. It’s not the same way he loves you. Like you said, it’s more of a platonic thing.”

  “What’d you say?”

  His smile caused warmth to flood across my skin and my heart to go out of rhythm. His voice was as soft as his kiss could be, and just as powerful. “I told him I love him too.”

  I lifted a shaky hand and pressed it over my mouth, overwhelmed. Holy shit. “What does this mean?”

  “It means he really needs to talk to you.”

  The radio on his desk crackled, and although the call wasn’t for him, it reminded us both that he could be pulled away at any moment. He leaned closer to the phone, looking so handsome and happy, I wished I could touch him through the screen.

  “Okay,” I said. “You don’t want me to wait for you?”

  “No, you can call me afterward though.” He blinked, considering something. “Hey. I love you.”

  We’d spoken about it but hadn’t actually said it to each other. Not even Friday night when he’d been at my place. Was it strange that I liked how the men had said it to each other first, before me?

  I grinned. “I love you too.”

  We said goodbye, and as soon as the call disconnected, I thumbed out my message to Clay.

  Me: My schedule just cleared up. What time do you want me to come over?

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  After a shower, I got dressed in a cowlneck sweater, jeans, and a pair of plaid pumps with a pointed toe. I didn’t head over early to Clay’s house like I used to. I’d stick to the plan of meeting at seven and rang his doorbell at precisely that time, so there’d be no surprises.

  When he opened the door, I was struck by how different he looked.

  He brightene
d and a big smile widened on his lips, announcing how glad he was to see me, but dark circles clung below his eyes. He looked tired. Maybe even exhausted. While I was sad to see him suffering, I wondered . . . were Travis and I the cause?

  He gestured politely for me to come in, and once I stood in his entryway, he reminded me of how Travis had been after he’d left this house on Friday. His hands seemed to ache to reach for me, but he knew better.

  Tension wove between us so thickly, it strangled back his words, and he barely got it out. “I’m sorry.”

  Okay, that was good.

  I’d expected him to say more, but then he just stood there, looking lost. Did he not have a plan for how this was supposed to go?

  Noir peeked her head around the corner, saw it was me, and gave a friendly meow in greeting. She brushed up against the wall before turning around and doing it back the same way she’d come from, trying to entice me to follow her.

  So, I did, which added to Clay’s confusion. He fell in behind me as I strode into the living room.

  I pulled to a stop when I saw the new addition. Noir seemed proud to show off this custom piece of furniture. She went to the base of the tree and vaulted up it, passing by the first platform and continuing to climb higher. There were several platforms to choose from, but she stopped at one in the middle so she could dig her claws into the sisal rope section that was wound tightly around the center support.

  It wasn’t like the cheap, two-tiered cat tower covered in carpet I’d bought her months ago, which she’d mostly destroyed instead of Clay’s furniture, thankfully.

  For one thing, this piece was taller than I was. The center support was a bare, whitewashed tree trunk with a natural curve and a fork halfway up, splitting off into two smaller branches. The platforms were covered in thick, white faux fur, which gave the impression there were clouds floating around the tree.

  Like everything else he did, it was beautiful. How in the world did he do that? He’d created a cat tower, but it was also gorgeous art. And it looked even better when Noir finished sharpening her claws and climbed up onto the next platform, nestling in on her cloudlike bed. The black of her coat popped out and complimented the monochromatic piece.