Chapter 14 – Braxton
brAXTON
I’m kind of secretly dying a bit. I can’t stop smiling.
And occasionally laughing. Waverly has been blushing all through breakfast, hardly able to meet Tristan’s mom’s gaze.
What that woman was doing coming into Tristan’s apartment, I have no clue.
And I couldn’t help or intercept her, even when I heard the front door open and close and her heels on the herringbone floor.
After all, I was naked in my bed with my dick in my hand, listening across the apartment to Tristan fuck Waverly.
Waverly also has trouble meeting my eyes. I can tell she doesn’t know what to make of the situation she’s found herself in, and though Tristan and I have both hinted at it, we haven’t fully explained ourselves to her either. That needs to change.
But for now…
“I’m simply saying we understand what grown-ups do in their bedrooms during their private time,” his mother says as she lathers a baguette with jam. “It’s perfectly normal.”
“Though in my day, we waited until marriage for such things,” his grand-mère picks up between hits of oxygen.
“Yes, well, it’s a bit too soon for all of that,” his father states emphatically.
“I don’t see why. Tristan needs to be married, and if they’re already having sex, then marriage should be part of the discussion,” Grand-mère argues.
Waverly is staring at her plate, looking like she’s about to throw up. Tristan has his hand over his eyes as he sips his coffee.
“This is ridiculous,” Tristan grumbles. “We’re not discussing marriage or my sex life. I’m thirty-four. Thirty-four-year-old men have sex. And furthermore, they don’t have their mothers walking into their apartment at seven thirty in the morning.”
“I was simply coming in to see if you were going to want breakfast with us.”
“That’s what phones are for.”
“You didn’t pick up because you were busy.”
“Then a text would have been sufficient, and I would have called you back.”
“Waverly is lovely, but they haven’t been together all that long, and she’s American,” his father states flatly.
“So am I,” his mother retorts.
“Yes, my darling, but you moved to Paris. I don’t believe Waverly is looking to do that. This can’t be more than a fling for him when he knows Ouest Hotels is based here in Paris and he’s looking to expand his company here as well.”
If I thought Waverly was blushing before, that has nothing on her now.
“Stop talking about this, or we’ll leave and stay elsewhere,” Tristan exclaims.
“Not over Christmas, you won’t,” his grandmother deadpans before she says something in French I only catch half of.
My French is good but not great, and that woman speaks fast when she’s upset.
Something along the lines of there being no open hotel rooms in the city and that he should propose to Waverly.
“Sex and marriage are perfectly natural things to talk about, dear,” his mother declares.
“Not over breakfast and not with my parents and grandmother and not with my girlfriend present. You’re embarrassing her, not to mention disrespectful, and I don’t like it.”
“I’m fine,” Waverly offers softly.
Tristan leans over and whispers something in her ear that I can’t hear, but it makes her grin and giggle lightly.
I slip my hand beneath the table and rest my palm on her thigh. She’s wearing a skirt, which is a dangerous weapon since we’re set to meet the Smithfield team in an hour. If we weren’t, Tristan and I wouldn’t make it out of the building with her.
Her gaze pulls up to me. The worry in her brow is unmistakable, and it does something wild and protective to my insides.
I learned at a young age that love isn’t always beautiful.
It has the power to rip out your insides and leave you hollow.
And when it does that to you, especially at a young age, you turn your back on it.
There’s no trust in love. Not after it betrays you like that.
That’s how I’ve lived my life.
Then two years ago a woman with dark hair and silver eyes walked into my office, and it was like Cupid took aim and made a direct hit.
I fought it for two years. She worked for Tristan, and I kept my distance for the most part, watching and interacting and flirting only when I got to the point of desperation and needed a fix.
But now I feel like I could have this. Like maybe it’s my turn, and life is too fucking short not to go after what I truly want. I don’t even know what my breaking point was. I just know I hit it.
Tristan’s family is all around us, but they’re busy laying into him about Ouest Hotels, so I take the moment of their distraction and lean in a bit to Waverly so I can tell her what I’ve been thinking since I first laid eyes on her today.
“You look beautiful this morning.”
A small gust of air pushes from her lungs in the form of a laugh. It sounds a lot like relief, and some of the turmoil that had been perched on her brow eases. She glances around, making sure no one can hear us, and turns back to me. “You’re not mad?”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Sunshine?
Tristan and I share pretty much everything.
A company, his family… women.” I let that hang for a minute.
“But our problem is, we’ve both been crazy about the same woman for a while now.
We were just too afraid to act on it. Until now.
We’re hoping maybe she’d want to share us too. ”
Her eyes do a slow blink as she fully absorbs this. I think she knew it. This can’t be a shock to her. But it’s not exactly the most normal thing in the world for two men to share a woman, so I’m not surprised she needed it explicitly spelled out for her. Waverly holds my focus as she studies me.
“Hey,” Tristan says, interrupting our moment, his tone suggesting he was trying to get our attention for a bit. “You ready?”
The three of us stand and say our goodbyes to Tristan’s parents and grand-mère and head out the door. Waverly is quiet as we step into the elevator, and I take her hand. Tristan takes her other hand and yep, I’m smiling like a bastard.
Waverly glances down at both of her hands, her head on a swivel, going back and forth. “So… you want to share me?”
I chuckle at her bewildered tone. “I’d like to.”
“But he doesn’t like me.”
“Yes, he does.”
“Yes, I do,” Tristan confirms with a heavy sigh.
He turns to face her when the elevator doors open.
“Fuck,” he hisses, and I drop Waverly’s hand.
We step off the elevator into the winter wonderland that is the lobby of the Ouest Hotel and out the front doors toward the waiting car.
The three of us climb into the back with the aid of the driver, the door shutting out the chilly Parisian morning.
Waverly sits in the middle, her teeth working her lip. “I’m so confused.”
The driver gets in and starts us out into Paris traffic. The facility is just outside of Paris, toward the La Défense district. Tristan rolls up the partition to give us some privacy.
“About what I said or about Tristan liking you?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Tristan chuckles. “I take it you told her,” he says to me.
“I did.”
“And she didn’t run screaming from my parents’ flat.”
“No. She didn’t.”
Tristan turns her face toward his. “Do you really hate me? Because I don’t hate you. Not at all. In fact… I’m the opposite of hate with you.”
Her eyelashes flutter. “And you both… share? How does that… work?”
“Typically it’s just been about sex.”
“But I want more,” I state. “More than sex. More of you.”
“You’re not in love with each other though, right? I mean, I’m not against that, I’ve just never gotten that vibe despite how close you are.”
“No. Brax and I love each other, but we’re not in love. We’re partners in many ways, but we don’t have sex with each other, nor do we want to.”
“Doesn’t that get complicated? Isn’t there jealousy?”
Tristan shrugs. “A bit, but it’s the good kind of jealousy. The kind that brings us together with the same woman. The kind that lights a fire without burning us.”
“How would this work? Would it be as it’s been? I’m with one of you and then the next, or is it all of us together?”
“It would be all of us together, and there might be times when it’s just one of us.”
I pull her hair back and trickle a trail of kisses up her neck to her ear. “Don’t overthink this. Just go with it. See if you like it. If you don’t, that’s fine too.”
“But I think you will...” Tristan trails off and kisses her lips as I continue to kiss her neck.
This is happening. Fucking finally.