36. No Initiative Order #3
Breathlessly, he looks at me and says, “I told you the prostate is the cheat code.”
I laugh, because what else can I do?
When Ronan finally comes, Dex looks ridiculously pleased with himself. Micah is flushed and wearing that quiet half-smile he gets when he feels something more strongly than he's willing to announce. Cami's breathing has gone uneven again from nothing more than watching.
I brush my thumb over her hip.
She leans into me immediately.
I don't think either of us notices doing it.
Afterward is significantly less sexy.
There are five adults, too few water bottles, at least one towel that should never touch a human body again, and one of Dex's socks has completely disappeared.
No one can explain how.
Ronan is doing a quiet inventory from the couch.
“Any pain beyond what you would normally expect?”
The answers come back from around the room.
Everyone is fine.
Dex raises one hand. “Emotionally devastated.”
Ronan doesn't even acknowledge him.
Micah does.
His hand settles at the back of Dex's neck again, completely different from the way he held him earlier. Softer now. His thumb moves slowly over Dex's skin while he studies his face.
Cami shifts backward until her spine meets my chest.
I don't call her over.
She doesn't look around the room and consciously decide her husband should handle her aftercare.
She just moves.
My arms close around her with the same lack of thought.
Automatic.
Her weight settles into me, and something inside my body recognizes the position before my mind ever gets involved.
There.
I kiss the top of her head. “You good?”
She nods. “Tired.”
“Water,” I say to no one in particular.
One hand appears over her shoulder.
Ronan reaches for the nearest bottle and passes it to me. I twist the cap loose before giving it to her.
Cami drinks while I keep my other arm around her waist.
Micah looks over. “You okay, Cam?”
“Yes.”
He studies her another second before nodding.
Dex immediately appears upside down over the back of the couch, hair hanging toward the floor.
“You sure?”
Cami pokes him between the eyes. “Yes.”
“Excellent.”
He disappears.
Then immediately comes back.
“Griffin?”
“Fine.”
“Micah?”
“Fine.”
“Ronan?”
Ronan looks genuinely offended. “I am capable of assessing my own condition.”
Dex points at him. “That was not a yes.”
Ronan closes his eyes like he's summoning patience from another plane of existence. “Yes.”
Dex smiles. “Good.”
Then he finally drops back onto the couch.
I look around the room.
Clothes are scattered everywhere. A blanket is hanging halfway onto the floor. There is popcorn under the coffee table even though someone specifically moved the bowl before things got out of hand. Dex's missing sock remains missing.
Micah has Dex tucked against his side now, his fingers still moving slowly along the back of his neck. Ronan is sitting close enough that his knee rests against Micah's thigh. Cami is warm and increasingly heavy against my chest as exhaustion starts winning.
Nothing about the room looks erotic anymore.
It looks lived in.
Cami shifts against me.
My hand settles over her stomach.
Without opening her eyes, she covers it with hers.
There is no less because the five of us are… this.
There's just more happening in the same house.
More relationships.
More people who know how she takes her coffee and what her blood sugar does when she's sick and which jokes make her laugh when she's trying not to.
More people who would get out of bed at three in the morning if she needed them.
More people she loves.
And somehow none of that changes the fact that, when the room goes quiet, and her body is exhausted, she settles against my chest without either of us thinking about it.
Not because this is the only place she belongs.
I don't need that anymore.
It's one of the places she belongs.
Ronan looks around at the mess. “We should probably clean this up.”
Nobody moves.
Dex raises one finger. “Counterproposal.”
Ronan sighs. “No.”
“You don't even know what it is.”
“I know you.”
“Ten-minute couch coma.”
Micah is already halfway there. “Seconded.”
Cami raises one hand approximately three inches from my thigh. “Third.”
I kiss her temple. “Fourth.”
Ronan studies the four of us long enough that I can almost see him calculating whether he could force exhausted naked adults to clean anything.
Eventually his shoulders settle back into the couch. “Ten minutes.”
Dex points at him triumphantly. “Democracy.”
“This is not democracy.”
“It is now.”
Cami laughs quietly against my chest.
I tighten my arms around her.
Five people on one couch should not work.
Neither should most of what we've done over the last year.
Maybe that's why I've spent so much time expecting some perfect structure to reveal itself—some set of rules that would explain exactly how all of us are supposed to fit together without hurting each other.
Tonight there wasn't one.
Nobody ran the room. Nobody kept score. Nobody made sure every person got the same thing.
We just knew each other well enough to pay attention.
Apparently, that's enough.
Maybe more than enough.