Epilogue- Ciarán
The studio lights were too bright, hot against my skin.
It was a different kind of heat than the stage—this one felt surgical.
Like they wanted to cut me open just to see what I was made of.
I hated the podcast cameras in my face. I didn’t want to be there, but my label insisted.
It wasn’t enough that in two years I’d given them two more hit records and was still touring. They wanted me to do press too.
Tasha Rene, the host, smiled with perfect teeth.
Her cohost, Radio, didn’t say shit to me—which meant Tyrell had warned him. He’d made too many jokes about my stay in the mental hospital. I threw him a glare just in case. He looked away.
I leaned back in the chair, the leather cool through my shirt.
I already knew I was gonna be annoyed before she even opened her mouth.
“So, what are you, Jordin, and Oak—officially?” she asked. “The world’s been speculating for two years now. We’ve seen the red carpets. The vacation photos. The fact that you walk into award shows with both of them like it’s normal.”
She paused for effect, eyes sharp.
“Ciarán, are you in a polyamorous relationship?”
I stared past the lights into the shadows where the producers hid. I could feel them holding their breath. They were always waiting for me to crash out.
I smiled. “Yeah. We are. In a way.”
Someone gasped. Tasha’s eyes widened—just for a beat. She had her headline, but she didn’t stop.
“People have a lot of questions,” she continued. “About the dynamics. About you and Oak.”
I let out a laugh. “Man, I know what y’all thinking. And hell no. He’s like my brother. We don’t… interact. Let’s just say he’s not my type. We have a partnership,” I added. “We love the same woman. We raise our daughter. Everybody else be trying to make the shit more complicated than it is.”
“So you all live together?”
“Yes.” I nodded. We had all moved into a bigger house a year ago.
And he’s legal married to her?
I nodded again “yes.”
Tasha pressed forward. “But you were so adamant before. No marriage. This is like a marriage. No kids, but you have one. You said you were too broken.”
“I was right,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I am broken. In ways I can’t always fix. I got a temper. There’s days when the world gets too loud, and I gotta disappear. I’ve been battling mental health shit my whole life. I swore I wouldn’t bring that to anyone. Especially not a child.”
I looked into the camera, like I could see Jordin watching.
“Then I met her. She was married. He’d fucked up. I took her home. She bribed me to do better—with food and her time. She made me wanna do better.”
I paused. Pressed my palm to my chest.
“But I knew I could never be everything for her. I’m not the rock.
My love ain’t quiet—it’s a song written at 3 a.m. It’s possessive.
It’s intense. But I remember anniversaries.
I blow money on her and my daughter. I dance with her in the kitchen.
I’ll kill for them. But I’m not... safe.
Some times I need to be alone for days or I’ll blow up. ”
I took a sip of water.
“But Oak is safe. He’s the foundation. I trust him.”
I set the glass down.
“So this... this arrangement? It worked. My daughter gets the best of both worlds.” Oak's parent's and brother thought the opposite, but did they really matter.
Tasha tilted her head, voice getting slick.
“Do you think your time in a mental hospital has anything to do with why you agreed to an arrangement like this?”
I blinked once.
And just like that—I flipped.
“You playing with me?”
Her mouth opened. I didn’t let her get the words out.
“What the fuck me being in a mental hospital gotta do with anything? That’s where we going? You just wanted to bring that shit up” I almost called her a bitch.
The door to the studio slammed opened and Tyrell and Oak walked in. Jordin had sent Oak to babysit me since it was my first interview in seven years. He looked out of place in his suit.
“We told y’all not to bring that shit up,” Tyrell snapped at the producers.
I held up a hand. “Nah. They good. I’m gone.”
Oak barked, “Handle it, Tyrell.”
I was about to leave peacefully but then the cohost opened his damn mouth.
“So y’all both be fucking her or not?” He had a big fucking cheese-eating grin on his fat fucking face I would’ve loved to remove.
I slapped both hands on the table.
“I’ll flip this whole fucking set and beat your ass, bitch.”
My phone rang. I already knew it was Jordin, the podcast was live. She was gonna be pissed if I did anything too volatile.
I looked down. Exhaled through my nose.
Then I turned and walked out.