Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Adeline
“So, you’re back on for Fridays?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows, and my face flushes.
My mother knows of our arrangement; I have no secrets from my mother, and she is one of the least judgmental people I know.
“Yes, mom. Go get Maya,” I tell her, and she sends me a wink before ducking out the door.
“Why would you tell her that?” I ask, looking at them.
“Thought she should know you will be moving.”
“I am not moving. I am staying here with my family. You have no right meddling in my life the way you do,” I tell them, getting up, grabbing their empty cups, and walking to the kitchen.
They follow, not getting that I want them to leave.
“So, where do you go on Fridays?” Eli asks curiously.
“We had you followed for the last two weeks and never once seen you go anywhere besides work and home. And who is this Sam person?”
“Sam is none of your business. My life outside work is none of your business. Can you just leave, please?” I tell them, pointing to the door.
Cyrus walks past me and sits at the table. “No, not until you tell us who this Sam person is.”
“Either you tell us, or I will just check your phone records and track him that way,” Eli says, walking over and sitting next to Cyrus.
“He is a friend. Why does it matter? You’re my bosses. We are not in a relationship,” I emphasize.
I have no idea what their thing is, but it is clear they have some kind of weird arrangement. I know they are married, yet both have kissed me, and the other is never fazed by it. I shake my head at the thought.
“So, he is male?” Eli says, ignoring my other comments.
“Yes, and I think you should leave,” I tell them, but neither moves so much as an inch.
“What sort of friend?”
“God, that is none of your business! Why can’t you understand that?” I yell at Cyrus.
“It is our business. You belong to us,” he answers simply, like it’s the most logical answer in the world.
“This, this right here, is not normal. You do get that, right? Bosses usually don’t visit their employees at home, or stalk them, or ask about their sex lives,” I tell them in frustration.
“So, you sleep with this Sam?” Eli asks.
Really? That’s all he’s got from that entire little rant? But why do they both suddenly look so angry?
Cyrus’s fist is clenched tightly on top of the table, as he stares behind me. Eli is glaring directly at me.
“That’s none of your business for the hundredth time. Now, can you leave, please? You’re making me uncomfortable,” I tell them.
“Is he why you won’t leave?” asks Eli.
“No, we aren’t like that. Just friends with benefits.”
Both of them look at me like they have never heard the term; I can’t believe I am having this discussion with my bosses. Like, how inappropriate.
“What is a friend with benefits?” Cyrus asks, perplexed.
My face flushes with embarrassment. Do I really have to explain this now? Do I also have to tell them about the birds and the bees?
“We are friends who sleep with each other, no strings attached,” I tell them, and they look at each other.
“How many?”
“Excuse me?”
“How many friends with benefits do you have?” Cyrus asks through gritted teeth.
“Geez, just Sam,” I tell him, not understanding why he is getting so worked up about it.
He lets out a breath before sitting back and relaxing slightly.
“So, you fuck, and that’s it?” Eli asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Yes, we have sex, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. I don’t want you sleeping with this Sam or anyone else. You are our mate. Mates don’t sleep with other people, only their mates,” Eli says, using that strange term again.
Now I’m the one confused. Are we speaking of the same sort of mates as in friend? Because from the way he’s said it, it sounds like something different.
“You have lost me,” I tell them, shaking my head.
“You are ours, destined to be with us. We want you, and that’s it,” Eli answers just as the front door opens and in runs Maya, completely distracting me from what he’s just said. She bounds into the kitchen, jumping up and down excitedly, showing me her painting.
“Look, Ada, I painted you a picture. See? Mommy, grandma, me, and you,” she says, pointing to each blob of paint.
“Awe, that’s amazing. Looks exactly like us,” I tell her.
She then notices Cyrus and Eli, a grin lighting up her face, which I find a bit unusual.
“Want to see?” she asks, running, overexcited about her painting.
Eli bends down, picking her up and placing her on his hip before looking at her painting. “Very good, Maya,” he tells her, and she grins a big toothy grin.
“Look, Mr. Cyrus,” she tells him, and he stands up to look over her shoulder, ruffling her hair.
“Very good, a little abstract,” he says, cocking his head to the side as he looks at the blob of paint on the paper, and I see Eli nudge him.
My mother walks in with Maya’s backpack. “Oh, you’re still here,” she says, a little surprised.
“Yes… Mrs. Paisley.” Cyrus stops, and I realize I have never introduced them to each other.
“Her name is Debbie,” I tell him, and he nods.
“Are you staying for dinner?” she asks, and I shrug, no longer caring at this point, before looking at them.
“Yes, mom, they can stay,” I answer for them, shaking my head.
I’ve been trying to get rid of them all night, but whatever.
I help my mother prepare dinner while Eli and Cyrus are playing at the table with Maya, and I am a little surprised to see how good they are with her, not like their usual intimidating selves I am so used to.
They almost look relaxed; Eli definitely does while he draws on some paper alongside her, Cyrus commenting on her artwork but more or less just reading a magazine my mother has left out as he flicks through the pages.
Helping my mother, I dump the onion and mushroom into the frypan with some butter. Then I realize I haven’t asked if they are allergic to anything. The last thing I need is one of them dropping dead on my floor. Just as I go to ask, my mother does, having the same thought.
“Do you have food allergies?”
Cyrus grins at her question, like he thinks it’s funny. “No, Debbie, no allergies. Want a hand?” he asks.
“No, we are alright,” she says, turning back to me and chucking the mince in the pan.
I turn the other element on, and she drops the pasta in a pot of water, placing it on the stove before whispering to me.
“They seem very attached to you. Are you sleeping with them, too?”
“Mom!” I whisper-yell at her, knowing they’ll likely overhear her. “No, I am not.”
“I was just asking, geez. You know I don’t care. They are both fine-looking men,” she says, and I snort.
I look over my shoulder at them and find Cyrus has a sly smile on his face he is trying to conceal.
“How old are they?” she asks, and I chuckle, shaking my head.
“Are you asking for me or yourself?” I reply, and she elbows me and giggles.
“I am 34. Elijah is 33,” Cyrus says behind us, and now I know he’s overheard my mother’s not-so-quiet whispers.
I look over my shoulder at him and notice Eli is gone with Maya before I hear Shimmer Shine on the TV.
“Maya is showing him some cartoons,” Cyrus answers when I look toward the hallway. “You seem very open with your mother,” he continues, and my mother turns around to face him.
“Yes, we are very close,” she tells him.
“Would you have a problem with her being in a relationship with two men?” he asks curiously.
“Nope, as long as she is happy, I don’t care who she is with,” she answers.
Cyrus smiles at her and gives her a nod while I gape at him.
“Told you,” she says, nudging me with her elbow just as Eli walks back and sits at the table.
“What happened?” he asks, looking at Cyrus, missing half the conversation.
Cyrus shakes his head before looking at my mother. “We were asking her about this person, Sam. Do you know him?” he asks.
God, he is a daring asshole. I want to smack him.
“Yes, lovely guy. Bit of a player, though,” she answers.
She likes Sam but knows he only calls me when he is in town and looking for bedroom comforts.
“Mom, they are my bosses,” I squeak.
“What? He asked. I ain’t going to lie to him, and by the looks on their faces, they don’t think of you just as an employee,” she answers.
God, please let the floor open up and swallow me. “They are married to each other.”
“They are gay? Damn, the hot ones are always gay,” she says, making me chuckle.
“We aren’t gay. What’s the term they use? Bisexual?” Cyrus asks, looking to Eli for confirmation.
“So, then what’s the deal with my daughter? Surely, I didn’t imagine your interest in her,” my mother asks, now confused.
“We like your daughter, Mrs. Paisley,” Eli says, and she nods, still trying to work that out.
This is so mortifying. I can’t believe they are having a civil conversation like this with my mother.
“Just use protection. I am already raising one of my daughters’ kids,” my mother says, my mouth falling open, and I see Cyrus chuckle at her words.
“Mom!” I screech, appalled at what she’s said.
How could any mother be comfortable with this?
“What? Nothing wrong with consenting adults. Before I met your father—” she goes on to say when I clamp my hand over her mouth.
“Stop talking. I don’t want to know,” I tell her.
“What? I listen to all your sex stories,” she says.
“Yes, but you’re my mother. I don’t want that image in my head,” I tell her.
“And you think I want that image of you in mine?” she retorts, shaking her head.
“Exactly how many sex stories does she have?” Eli asks her.
“Nope, this conversation is over. You’re my bosses, nothing else. And mom, you are mom, so stop,” I warn her.
“I think we are upsetting her. I should stop,” she says playfully, earning a smile from them, yet all I get is glares usually.
We dish out dinner, the conversation remaining strictly PG, thanks to Maya. When they eventually leave, I let out a breath of relief.
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