Chapter 35
Lucy
I’ve never cried this hard in my life.
After Frankie died, I’d expected to cry like this. The gasping, suffocating sobs that wrack your body and leave you feeling completely wrung out. But after Frankie died, the feeling was more empty, hollow. Like my soul had vacated and I was just a husk walking around, pretending to be myself.
Now, I sit in the plush leather seat of the fancy private jet owned by my three beautiful, rich boyfriends. And I cry so hard into my hands that Dane keeps having to get down on his knees, pleading with me to breathe, Lucy, breathe.
I want to talk to them about it. About what happened. I have the feeling that if I could just tell them about my tumultuous teenage years, about the pressure to be perfect. About the heart-wrenching feeling of not being good enough for my parents, that it might actually make me feel better.
But every time I take deep breaths with Dane, accept a sip of water from Nico, and steady myself enough to open my mouth and talk about what’s happening, I picture my father’s angry face, and the crying starts all over again.
It’s like I’m a washing machine stuck on an endless cycle, even though I long ago ran out of soap and water.
So, instead of talking, I just let go. I slump into my seat and oscillate between napping and crying.
Dimly, through the sadness, I’m aware of the plane landing, of one of them, I think Dane, picking me up and carrying me to the car.
I’m aware of the fact that it’s raining, dampening my clothes and frizzing up my hair.
I’m still wearing the burnt orange corduroy skirt, the dark tights, the turtleneck I thought made me look so sophisticated, like an art student. Surely, the outfit with the black boots did not help endear my parents to me.
Surely, in their minds, I should be constantly dressed like it’s Easter Sunday. Their perfect girl in perfect pastels, every inch of skin covered.
“It was like this my first day,” I hear myself saying as I notice the weather, voice muffled into Dane’s chest. I’m remembering the way it had stormed outside his office windows, making him feel like a movie villain. Like he was in his high-tech, spooky lair.
And it was stupidly sexy.
If Dane hears what I say, he doesn’t acknowledge it.
I’m carried inside, riding in an elevator up to a penthouse apartment, then, briefly, I’m on my feet.
Together, three pairs of hands on me, my men undress me.
Cole kneels at my feet and carefully scoops off each of my boots.
Dane gently unclips each barrette from my hair.
Nico holds the neck of my shirt wide so it doesn’t snag on my earrings as it slides over my head.
I shiver for just a second before a large shirt is pulled down over my head, and I’m scooped up again, deposited on a bed.
One of them is always with me as the others get undressed, and then it’s all three of them, cuddling in around me like they can make a barrier against the world with their bodies.
Still crying, still shaking a little from the adrenaline and the sobs, I drift off into a deep, sticky sleep.
I wake up the next morning to puffy eyes, a sore throat, and Cole sitting in bed next to me.
The moment I stir and roll over to him, he sends off a quick text and pulls me into him.
“Good morning,” he says, gently, pushing a lock of hair out of my face. His hands are cool while my skin feels feverish, and I shiver in appreciation at his touch.
“Morning,” I croak, knowing it’s petulant not to add the “good” but still not doing it. It’s not a good morning. Last night, my parents essentially gave me an ultimatum—come home and leave this life behind, be the good girl they’ve always wanted, or never see my family again.
Arms shaking, I plant my hands on the mattress and find my phone charging on the nightstand. I pick it up and find I have two texts.
The first is from Mary.
Mary: Everything is okay, thanks for asking
Mary: Babies are fine, but I’ll have to go on bed rest until they come
And then, several hours later
Mary: I’m sorry, Luc
Mary: Are you really dating all three of them?
I stare at her texts. Mary is a lot more lax than our parents, but I wouldn’t put it past her to be weirded out by this. To pass some judgment, even if she wasn’t meaning to.
Rather than text her back right away, I thumb over to my other text.
Auntie: Tried to call, love
Auntie: You know I hate texting
Auntie: Mary told me something happened. Here if you need me xx
I decide not to text her back, either. I’ll have to talk to both of them, eventually, but right now I feel so numb.
I’m drawn out of my thoughts by the door opening, Dane slipping inside, followed closely by Nico.
All three of the guys are in their lounge wear.
Cole wears a pair of soft, practically tattered sweats with a school logo faded down the side and a shirt from a video game.
Dane is in formal pajamas, the kind that come in a matching set.
It almost looks tailored for him. And Nico is practically naked, wearing nothing but a pair of checkered boxer shorts.
“Lucy,” Nico says, his voice soft as he crawls into bed, throwing an arm around me and tugging me into his chest. I appreciated Cole for being here when I woke up, but Nico is the best at this—it’s like he’s practiced at making everything feel okay. Comforting.
I think about his mother and wonder if it has anything to do with that.
“Hey, guys,” I rasp, tearing up more when Dane passes me my water bottle, the huge, clunky metal cup I’ve been lugging around with me since Mary got it for me more than a year ago, and a simple sage green glass that smells like iced coffee.
I take a sip, and it makes me feel a little more like a person.
“We understand if you want to call this off,” Dane says, and though both Nico and Cole stiffen on either side of me, they say nothing. I realize the three of them must have been having conversations about this while I was sleeping.
“Is that… would that be easier for you?” I sound like a little girl, but I don’t know how to change that. I don’t know how to keep my voice level and confident when it feels like my world is crumbling away around me.
Dane frowns, “No. It would not be easy. But that wasn’t ideal, at the hospital. I know how you feel about being there for your sister. And as much as we like you, and want you to stay, we aren’t going to ask you to stay. Won’t participate in that ultimatum.”
Like my parents did.
They saw something about my life that they didn’t understand, that they didn’t like, and they instantly tried to force me out of doing it. It’s been like that my entire life.
Them changing the mold, me flexing and morphing, doing everything in my power to fit within it. My parents only want me if I’m perfect. If I’m the daughter they’ve dreamed up in their heads.
But the guys, these three men I’ve only known a short while, they want me for who I am. They just want me to be happy. And they’re willing to step out of the way, willing to forget their own wants and needs, just to make that happen.
“No.” The word pops out of me, a little rough around the edges, and I take a few big gulps of water, then another sip of my coffee, before continuing.
“I’m done bending to them. They…” I take a deep, shaking breath.
Speaking ill of my parents still feels wrong, like a sin, despite the fact that I’m an adult, and my own father almost punched me in the face.
And he didn’t even apologize for it.
They expect perfect conduct from me. For me to adhere to their world view, to be the good, holy girl, and they weren’t even willing to admit what they did wrong. My own father didn’t apologize for hitting me, accident or not.
And that feels like hypocrisy. It feels like proof that it’s not actually about being good, it’s about control.
Like I usually do in situations like this, I think about Frankie. She pops into my mind, looking like she did when we first met, her eyes sparkling, her hands reaching for something—a plane ticket, a new food for us to explore, the hand of a stranger.
If she was here, she’d tell me the same thing she told me about my family when she was alive. Similar to what Dane said the second time we slept together. It’s your life to live, Lucy. And you only get one.
“If you’ll have me, I want to stay.” Now, I manage that level, controlled voice.
First, I meet Dane’s eyes, crinkled with worry around the edges.
Nico’s, sparkling with anticipation for what I’m going to say.
Cole’s, darting all over my face and body, like he’s still searching for what’s wrong, trying to figure out how he can make it better.
He’s already making it better. They’re all making it better.
“I’ve always been like this.” Once I start, I can’t stop the words from tumbling out.
I laugh and scrub my hand against my cheek.
“Part of the reason why I hadn’t—why I was a virgin—I was never interested in boys my age.
Not in high school, not in college. God, I crushed on all the professors.
When I had sex dreams, it was usually with more than one person.
This is who I am. This is how I love. I… ”
I realize I’ve come scarily close to admitting to them that I love them. My heart pumps furiously. Do I love them? What does that even look like?
Dane reaches out and takes my hands, “You want to stay.”
“I do,” I nod. “We’re not hurting anyone. And I’m having fun. It feels good to be with you.”
Nico nudges his shoulder into mine, “We’re going to have to talk about that professor thing, at some point.”
“Explains why she’s so into Cole,” Dane jokes. He almost never jokes, and I can see it comes from the relief, from the ease we have with one another now.
Letting out a growl of frustration and desire, I roll my eyes and surge forward, climbing on my hands and knees, grabbing the front of Dane’s pajama top before I smash my lips against his.