Chapter 127 Christianna
Chapter one hundred twenty-seven
Christianna
I wake to a gentle tapping at the bedroom door and Bass and Treble bounding from the foot of the bed, barking.
Ruiz’s voice carries from the other side. “Coulson will be here in an hour.”
Remy sits up and runs a hand through his hair. “We’ll be down in a bit.”
“What time is it? Didn’t we just go to sleep?” I try burrowing back into the pillow.
“I’m grabbing the shower,” Remy says, shuffling toward the bathroom. “It’s a little after eight,” he adds over his shoulder.
“Crap.” I lunge upright, instantly swarmed by my dogs. Erik and I take turns greeting them and giving them their morning cuddles.
“I’ll take them outside,” Erik says, pulling on a pair of sweats. “Would you like me to bring you up a cup of coffee?”
I nod. The man looks good in baggy sweats and bare feet. This is a great way to wake up. Remy’s sculpted ass disappearing into the bathroom. Erik’s abs catching the morning light. I’m starting to understand what all the fuss is about.
I shake myself out of my thoughts and head for the closet to pick out an outfit.
I’m still in there debating when Remy walks in wearing nothing but a towel.
“Why the deep thoughts?” he asks, grabbing a pair of jeans and a polo.
I start to answer but lose my train of thought when he drops the towel and starts getting dressed. I’m staring, openly, and wondering if he tastes different than Erik. He’s bigger, too, and I wonder if I’d gag.
A sharp snap pulls me out of it, and I glance up guiltily.
He’s smiling.
“If we had time, I’d take you up on everything,” he says, leaning over to press a firm kiss to my lips. “Unfortunately, we have a big day. So get in the shower and meet me downstairs.”
He passes Erik and grabs the coffee he was bringing me. “You need an incentive, you can have coffee when you get downstairs.”
I sigh wistfully. Life is full of little disappointments. Shaking it off, I head for the shower and let the television debate take over my mind. Nothing brings clarity like sluicing hot water.
The yipping of excited dogs greets me as I walk into the kitchen. I instantly see why.
“No balls in the house,” I snap before Erik can throw it.
Meg, leaning against the counter and sipping her coffee, says dryly, “That’s what she said… not.”
I feel the heat travel up my cheeks and duck my head as Remy presses a mug of coffee into my hand.
“Let’s take the coffee outside and decide what we’re comfortable disclosing,” Remy suggests, scooping up the carafe.
Erik and the dogs are already outside, so Meg grabs his mug and follows.
When we step out, it’s overcast and slightly chilly. I take a sip from my mug to ward off the cold, then wrap both hands around it for warmth.
Meg plops down on the glider and pulls a blanket from the storage ottoman.
I slip in beside her, and we share the heat.
Erik tosses the ball again and glances over. “Are you going to do the interview?”
“I don’t know. How would it impact you?”
He turns to face me fully, ignoring the dogs dancing at his feet.
“I stand with you.” At Remy’s pointed throat-clearing, he amends, “We stand with you. Nothing anyone says will change our minds. You’re ours. We’re yours. If it makes your life easier not to bring us up…” He shrugs, then bends to pick up the ball and throw it.
I stare into my coffee cup, my heart beating so hard it feels like it might burst. I’m theirs. They’re mine. It’s that simple to him.
I glance at Remy, searching his face.
He meets my eyes and nods slowly. “It’s up to you. As much or as little as you’re comfortable with.”
Having said what he needs to say, he turns and joins Erik. They trade off throwing the ball.
Meg nudges me gently. “Thoughts?”
I lean my head back and stare at the gray clouds. “I’m coming out as a rape victim. Does that undercut what happened? Victim to… slut?”
“Whoa. Don’t talk about my best friend that way. Unacceptable.”
I turn my head toward her. She’s glaring at me.
“I don’t feel like a slut,” I say quietly.
“I feel… for the first time… all the things. Happy. Loved. Scared in a good way.” I swallow.
“Do I need to worry about the optics? I could live with what they say about me. But would anyone call them predators? Say they’re taking advantage of a victim?
They’re in the public eye. Perception matters. Optics matter.”
“That’s why we have a publicist and a team of lawyers. Do you think they don’t know the risks? That they haven’t weighed them?” she shoots back.
“We didn’t exactly tell Alexis last night that I was sleeping with both of them.”
Meg arches a brow. “Do you really think she didn’t already guess based on the videos?”
“I still haven’t even seen them. I only heard the audio.”
“Needless to say, we had a video prepared in case accusations about the three of you surfaced. Safe to say she suspects.”