52. Serena
Serena
The door opens, and a moment later, Graham stands in the entry to the grand suite, his hand flying up over his eyes. “Jesus fuck, Travis, put some clothes on.”
“Should I stay naked?” Ryan sings, his cheeks flushed, so clearly pleased with himself. It’s been more than an hour since we got up here, and the guys have made me see heaven multiple times.
Graham flips him off and turns around while Travis and Ryan each pull on a pair of pants, before flopping back into the bed with me. I bounce a little on the mattress, not even caring that I’m naked while the three men around me are, at least partially, clothed.
“What’s that for?” Ryan asks, propping himself up on an elbow when Graham pops a bottle of champagne.
“We,” Graham says, handing out glasses and then messily pouring the bubbles into each one, “are celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?” Travis accepts his glass and tilts his head, some of his hair falling over his forehead. It’s longer now than when we first met. “That the U.S. government decided not to put us on the FBI watch list?”
“Nope,” Graham uncharacteristically pops his “p,” a huge grin on his face. “Turns out, apparently, our VP is secretly poly. Can’t say anything about it, or she would never get re-elected. She understands what it’s like to love a little differently, and she was impressed by you, Serena.”
A rush of pride moves through me at the thought.
“Cheers to that,” I say, lifting my glass and smiling at Graham. He smiles and lifts his, too, his eyes skipping down for a moment to where I hold the sheet to my chest.
We chorus cheers, then Graham says, “And cheers to the brand new New York Waterfalls National Park.”
I squeal and jump up, sloshing a little champagne over the side of the glass and crossing the room to Graham. Sheet still wrapped around my body, I throw my arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly. “Congratulations, Graham.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmurs into my hair, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in closer.
Joy and inspiration well inside me. The ever-present urge to have my camera in my hands hits, and I stand, moving to the door and rummaging through my things.
Somehow, my friends were able to bring up my bag while I marched into the ballroom earlier.
As I pull the camera from the bag and cradle it in my hands, it occurs to me that this is something of a full circle.
From marching into Travis’s office and demanding he fire me, to marching into that ballroom and kissing the three of them in front of some of the most important people in the country.
“Get in bed, Graham,” I murmur, sheet trailing behind me as I walk my camera over to a table on the far side of the room.
Graham lifts an eyebrow at me but does what I say, sliding off his polished dress shoes and loosening his tie.
Ryan grins up at him and pats the bed, and Graham shoves him playfully before flopping on his side, nearly taking up half the bed himself.
I set the aperture, line up the shot, and capture the setting sun in the background, casting the entire suite in a gentle, golden glow.
Then I turn on the timer, hurry across the room, and fall into the middle of them, managing to right myself, sit up, and push my hair back from my face just in time for the shutter to click.
Travis tugs me backward and into him, burying his face in my neck, “We’ll have to make sure that photo stays private, huh?”
I shrug, lean backward, and kiss him. “If I want to be a real Oakley, I’m going to have to learn how to blackmail sooner or later.”
His smile is so enormous and genuine, and I wish I could have the camera in my hands right now, capturing it forever.
“So, what do we do now?” Ryan asks, lying back on the pillows and sipping on his champagne. “Now that the danger is over?”
“I’m heading out in the Spring,” Graham mutters, reaching out and drawing one finger up the length of my shin. “But I’m here until then.”
“We could go back to Italy for a few weeks,” Travis suggests, tucking my hair over one of my shoulders. “You liked it there, didn’t you, Serena?”
I nod against his cool fingers, smiling, unable to really think about the future right now.
All I can think about is the radiant happiness fizzing in my chest, spreading out to each of my fingertips.
I think about the family that got me here—seeing Grayson and Sid under that tree, recognizing that love might not always be palatable for strangers.
Lillie and Georgia rushing to get me ready, stuffing me in the back of the Chrysler Pacifica.
And this family. The three guys around me, tucked into bed like a brood of puppies, warm and soft and already talking about what they can do for me. Maybe, in a strange sort of cosmic balancing, the universe thought I would need three great loves to make up for everything I went through as a kid.
Right in this moment, I realize I would go through it all again, as long as it meant ending up here.
“Let’s not go back to Italy just yet,” I say, smiling when Ryan slips his hand under the sheet and skims a palm over my side—not sexual, but tender. “I’ve been wanting to work on my own photography for a while now.”
Turning to Graham, I say, “Maybe we could start with a tour of your favorite parks?”
To Travis, I add, “And we could see the architecture in different cities?”
And, finally, to Ryan, “You’ll make a list of the best restaurants, and I’ll capture the feeling of eating at each one.”
The guys practically hum with happiness.
“That sounds like a plan,” Travis says.
Graham nods, and Ryan asks, “So, when should we leave?”
“We could leave tomorrow?” I venture laughing when Ryan starts to tickle my side. Once I get away from him, breathless and practically in Travis’s lap, I add, “Lucky for me, I happen to know someone with a private jet.”