66 francesca
A few years later…
“I look ridiculous,” I say, tugging uselessly at the shapeless curtain of fabric I’m wearing, trying- and failing- to make it look remotely flattering.
“It’s a graduation robe,” Ryan says. “Everyone looks ridiculous in them.”
“Hat’s crooked,” Jamie adds. I try to adjust the stiff cardboard thing and somehow make it worse.
“Hm,” Christian murmurs, stepping in behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “I remember the last time you wore one of those.”
Heat blooms instantly in my stomach. “I still think Jamie should’ve had to wear one,” I mutter.
“Ab-so-fucking-lutely not,” Jamie says without looking up from his phone, his expression dead serious.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just checking in with my mom. She said might come later. To the party,” he says, a little stiff, pocketing his phone
Things with Jamie’s mom are… complicated. Awkward, at best. Our relationship with her isn’t easy, and it may never be. But it’s getting better.
After all, she was a victim too.
Jamie wouldn’t even see her for about six months after the trial. But slowly, awkwardly, he’s been figuring out what forgiveness looks like.
“Good,” I say, meaning it. I’m very much looking forward to the party. Hosting parties may be my favorite hobby.
We host everything. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Random Sundays that somehow turn into forty-person dinners because I tend to over-invite.
My friends from school. Ryan’s coworkers. Neighbors. Everyone’s welcome in our home.
And we never hide our relationship.
Ryan’s family embraced us immediately. His youngest sister announced that she, too, was going to have three boyfriends when she grew up. I think Ryan nearly had a stroke.
Christian’s dad… didn’t. But it doesn’t really matter.
Their relationship has always been mainly transactional - business partners who happen to share DNA.
It probably bothers me more than it bothers Christian.
Still, I try to make up for the love he doesn’t get from his dad.
I think Jamie and I do a pretty good job of it. Ryan too in his own way.
Somehow, the dynamics of our little unit are shockingly seamless. Sure, it sounds complex- I’m in a relationship with Ryan, who is best friends with Jamie who’s in a relationship with Christian and they both are in a relationship with me…
But it just works.
They guys each have their own room, and sometimes they sleep in them.
Ryan the most, when he isn’t up for sharing me or doesn’t want to see a couple other guys naked.
Christian will sometimes sleep alone, especially if he’s worked late in the night and the rest of us are asleep by the time he comes to bed.
But I’ve never slept without Jamie. Not since the night he came home from jail.
I still have time one-on-one with each of the guys, but when it comes to actually sleeping, Jamie is always, without fail, curled up around my back, holding me tight. Like he’s scared I’ll disappear if he lets go, and I’m scared he’ll be taken from me again if I don’t hang on.
Maybe some fears never leave completely.
But neither of us is going anywhere.
“Okay,” I say, fiddling with the dumb hat again. “When are people coming over?”
“Right after we get you graduated,” Christian says, swatting my butt as he heads for the door. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”
We pile in the car, knocking my hat off yet again, and drive to campus.
I’ve never even been to the football stadium, so I’m a bit nervous walking into it- it's massive. But Christian’s hand is warm at my lower back, anchoring me like always.
“Okay, this is where we leave you,” Ryan says. “We got seats on the left side, third row,” he says, planting a kiss on my forehead before he puts the dumb hat on me again.
Jamie teases me about tripping in front of everyone, then gives me a quick kiss.
Christian looks down at me before he bends down and gives me a kiss. Not a quick, sweet one like Jamie and Ryan. This is a lipstick-ruining kiss.
“Enough, let’s go,” Ryan says, pulling him off me. Christian winks and follows the other two.
Sitting on the field is weird, sounds echo down here. I didn’t even have to do this- the cap and gown, walking across the stage- but I wanted to.
I’m slightly regretting that now.
When it’s my turn, I step forward, heart hammering, robe flapping awkwardly around my legs. I scan the crowd and find my guys, right where Ryan said they’d be. All three of them are standing and clapping. Jamie lets out an incredibly loud whistle and I flush.
I cross the stage. Shake a hand. Take the diploma.
And as I walk back to my seat, smiling at the loves of my life, it hits me- not like a punch, but slowly. Softly. Like sunlight spreading warmth over skin.
I did it.
I did exactly what Gram wanted.
I found my way to something so much better than surviving.