21. Bianca
BIANCA
Gideon hands me a mug of coffee over the kitchen island, and his hair is still wet from the shower this morning.
So is mine.
I’m wearing one of his shirts and nothing else. He’s in sweatpants, which is a look I didn’t know would do something to me until he walked out of the bathroom in them.
“Theo texted.” He slides his phone across the marble toward me. “They landed forty-five minutes ago. They should be here in ten.”
“Ten minutes?”
He nods. “Ten minutes.”
I drink half the coffee in one go. “Okay. Eggs. I can do eggs in ten minutes.”
“You don’t have to cook.”
“They came all the way to Maine to spend time with me. I’m going to feed them.”
He lifts his coffee. Doesn’t argue. I like that about him.
I like a lot of things about him.
I pull the carton of eggs out of the fridge. Butter and salt. I crack eggs into a bowl, whisk them with one hand, and reach for the pan with the other.
He is watching me from across the island the entire time.
“Why are you staring at me?”
He takes a sip of his coffee. “Because you’re everything I’ve always wanted.”
My cheeks flush, but I don’t get a chance to answer.
My phone goes off on the counter. Then again. And again.
Then it doesn’t stop.
Oh no. I’ve been through this before. Something big is happening.
I put the whisk down. Gideon’s mouth has gone still against the rim of his mug.
I wipe my hands on a dish towel and grab my phone.
Notifications are stacked top to bottom. A text from Daphne in all caps. A text from Eliza. Three missed calls from numbers I don’t have saved.
I open the first notification that I’m tagged in.
It’s a video. The thumbnail is my own face, months younger, in the doorway of a gala I should never have catered.
The video that started it all.
My thumb hovers. The little play arrow blinks at me. I press it.
Theo’s voice comes out of my phone, the same way it did that night, sharp and cold and directed at me.
Then the video cuts.
And there is Theo, sitting in what looks like his office, with the city behind him through the glass.
“My name is Theodore Sawyer. A few months ago, I behaved in a way that was inexcusable toward a woman named Bianca Donovan.”
Then it cuts to Ander. Same office, different angle. He’s wearing a backward baseball cap and a hoodie.
“Yeah, hi, so, Theo was an asshole that night. And Gideon and I were no better. All three of us were assholes to a woman who literally did nothing wrong. Like, nothing. That’s the whole story. We let the internet try to make her the villain because it was easier than admitting it was us.”
Then the video cuts to Gideon.
My head comes up.
He is at the island, and his mug is down as he watches me.
On the screen, his recorded self says, “Bianca Donovan is an extraordinary person. She’s kind. She’s smart. And she’s braver than anybody I’ve ever met. The Sawyer family owes her a public apology. This is mine.”
It cuts back to Theo.
“She asked me for a public apology once.” His jaw works. “And I told her I couldn’t. I’d like to correct that now. Bianca, I’m sorry. For the gala. For the bakery. For my father. A public apology is the least of what you deserve.”
Ander again. Leaning forward into the camera, both palms up.
“Also, to be very clear for the people in the back, the three of us are with her. Like, with her, with her. So if anyone was thinking about going after her again, don’t. She’s ours, and we’re hers, and that’s the whole post.”
The video loops back to the beginning.
Gideon hasn’t moved.
“You pre-recorded this.”
“I did,” he responds.
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
The butter in the pan has gone past melted. It’s starting to brown at the edges. I reach over and pull it off the burner without looking. “Before we came to the cabin?”
“Yes.”
I set the pan on a cool ring. “You didn’t know how I felt. You didn’t know I wanted to be with you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He comes around the island and stops a foot away. “Even if you said no to me, you were still owed an apology. That wasn’t conditional.”
The eggs are forgotten in their bowl.
I open my mouth to say something, and the front door of the cabin bangs open instead.
“BABY.” Ander is in the doorway, grinning.
He drops his duffel bag at his feet.
Theo is behind him in a black wool coat, brushing snow off his shoulder.
“Did you see it?” Theo asks.
“I saw it.”
Ander crosses the kitchen in three strides and lifts me clean off the floor and spins me. I’m laughing into his shoulder.
“Tell me you loved it.” He sets me down. “Tell me. Right now. Did you love it?”
“I loved it.”
“Ha.” He kisses my forehead, hard. “Told you, Theo. Told him. He was nervous on the plane. You should’ve seen him.”
“I was not nervous,” Theo says, taking off his coat.
“You were so fucking nervous.”
Theo crosses to me, and his hands come up to my face, and he looks at me for a second before saying, “Was it enough?”
My throat does a thing. “It was more than enough.”
He kisses me. Once. Then he steps back, so I’m facing all three of them.
“Thank you.” My eyes are stinging. I look at Ander. I look at Gideon. I look back at Theo. “I love you. All three of you. I wasn’t planning to say that this morning, but it’s true.”
Ander throws both hands in the air. “Well, fuck yeah, you love us. We love you too, baby. Was that even a question?”
I drag my bottom lip through my teeth. “Maybe it’s too soon.”
“It’s not too soon.” Theo lets out a breath. “I love you, Bianca.”
I look at Gideon.
He is still by the island. He hasn’t said it yet.
“Gideon, you don’t have to say anything. This is not a competition. I wanted to tell you how I?—”
“I love you,” he interrupts. “I’ve loved you since the night at my penthouse. I was too much of a coward to say it out loud.”
“All of you,” I say. “Get over here.”
Theo gets to me first because he’s closest. Ander gets there second because Ander is faster than he looks. Gideon comes last.
The four of us end up in a knot in the middle of the kitchen, my forehead against Theo’s shoulder, Ander’s arm around my waist from behind, Gideon’s hand at the back of my neck under my wet hair. Nobody says anything for a second.
“Okay.” I pull back enough to breathe. “Eggs.”
“Breakfast sounds great,” Ander agrees.
“After eggs,” Gideon says, “we should talk about our father.”
I walk toward the counter and pick the bowl of eggs up. “We can talk while we eat.”
Ander is already pulling open cupboards, looking for plates. Theo gets the forks.
Gideon gets everyone coffee.
I rinse the pan, add a new dollop of butter. The pan heats up, and I pour the eggs in, while Ander starts making toast.
“He’ll see the video within the hour,” Gideon says, behind me. “If he hasn’t already.”
I push the eggs around with a spatula. “And?”
“He’ll be furious,” Theo says.
“Let him be furious.” Ander sets a plate of toast on the island. “He can rage all he wants. Doesn’t change anything.”
I pull the pan off the burner and slide the eggs onto the plates Ander has lined up. “What does that mean, doesn’t change anything?”
“It means he’ll cut us off.” Theo takes a plate. Sits at the island. “All three of us. The trust. The will. The estate. He’ll take what he can take.”
I stop with the spatula in my hand. “He can really do that?” I look at Theo since he was the one who first told me. I thought he was just making excuses.
“He can do a lot,” Gideon answers instead.
“Oh, no,” I say. “We should have talked about the video before you posted it.”
“Let him take everything. I don’t give a shit.” Ander climbs onto the stool next to Theo and grabs a piece of toast. “He’s been controlling us our whole lives with money. Living in fear like that is no way to live.”
I look at Gideon.
He doesn’t flinch. “We have each other. We have the foundation our mother started. We have you. That’s enough. Let him take it.”
I pick up my plate. I sit on the stool Gideon pulls out for me. I pick up my fork.
I eat one bite of eggs. Then another. The three of them eat with me, like this is any other morning, like they didn’t just risk their entire inheritance.
“I have an idea.” I set my fork down.
Ander stops mid-bite. “What kind of idea?”
I get off the stool. “Follow me. It’s easier if I show you.”
I head for the bedroom.
They follow without hesitation.