Chapter 16 Tania
Tania
I’m standing in front of my closet holding a cream sweater when the reality hits me.
I have to lie to my mother today. And I have to lie to Ben. I have to look them both in the eye and pretend this arrangement is still what we said it was—temporary, fake.
Except I’ve slept with Callum and Evan. Multiple times. Together. And Silas kissed me at that gala in a way that I still feel his lips on mine when I close my eyes.
I pull the sweater over my head and smooth it down. The four pies we made yesterday sit boxed on the kitchen counter. And they’re proof of something I can’t name. Proof of something more, that we’re spending holidays together now and building traditions.
Evan appears in my doorway, already dressed. “You look nervous.”
“I am nervous.”
He crosses to me and kisses me. My body responds immediately, wanting more, and I almost forget we’re supposed to be leaving. Almost. I break away, breathless.
“It’ll be fine.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Your mom will love us.”
“My mom already loves you. You’ve known her since you were eight.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is, I don’t know how to act around you anymore. Not in front of my family, the people who know me best.”
His hand slides to my waist, pulling me closer. “I know. It’s getting harder.”
We don’t continue the conversation because Callum is yelling from the kitchen that we need to leave.
Evan and I go downstairs, and I grab the pies before I can think too hard about acting like these guys are just my friends.
The drive to Ben’s takes twenty minutes, and I spend most of it staring out the window while Callum drives and Evan sits beside me in the back. Silas is in the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone, avoiding eye contact with any of us.
My apprehension intensifies the closer we get.
Ben’s house is a renovated brownstone, and my mom’s car is already parked out front when we pull up. I’m carrying two of the pies, Evan has the other two, and Callum grabs the wine we brought.
Silas holds the door for me.
My brother opens his front door before we can knock, and the smell of roasting turkey hits me immediately.
Ben’s grinning. “You’re late.”
“Five minutes isn’t late.” I step inside, and he pulls me into a hug that lasts longer than usual. Like he’s checking to make sure I’m okay.
I’m not okay.
But I hug him back and lie with my body language.
My mom appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, and her face lights up when she sees all of us.
“There you are!” She hugs me first, then Evan, then Callum, and then Silas. She’s known them most of their lives and watched them grow up alongside Ben, and the warmth in her greeting is genuine.
This should feel good. It does feel good.
That’s what makes the lying worse.
“We made pies,” I tell her, holding up the boxes.
“We?” Ben asks.
“Evan and Callum helped.” I set the boxes on the counter. “Well, mostly they made a mess.”
My mom takes them and peeks inside. “Apple and pumpkin. Perfect.” Then she looks at me, eyes soft.
Evan’s hand lands on my lower back out of habit. I stiffen, and he immediately removes his hand, realizing what he’s done.
My mom notices. Ben doesn’t.
We move into the living room, and I sink onto the couch while Ben pours drinks. My mom settles into the armchair across from me, and the triplets spread out around the room.
My mom’s eyes glaze with amusement. “So, how’s married life?”
I freeze.
Callum grins. “Exhausting.”
Evan laughs. “He means fulfilling.”
Silas doesn’t say anything, but his eyes find mine across the room.
My mom shakes her head, still smiling. “I have to tell you, the world has completely accepted this. I thought there’d be more... judgment. But no. Everyone thinks it’s progressive.”
“Progressive,” Callum repeats. “I like that.”
“My friends keep asking me questions.” She takes a sip of her wine. “Asking how you’re managing, if it’s real, if Tania’s happy. I keep deflecting. Telling them you’re all happy.”
She pauses, and something changes in her expression.
Her fingers trace the rim of her wine glass. “Actually, I’m seeing that what I’m telling my friends is true.”
Ben is pouring wine and doesn’t notice that my mom just figured out what’s really happening. But I notice. And so does Silas.
My mom stands and gestures for me to follow her into the kitchen. I do, because I am so tired of keeping this a secret from the people that I love.
The kitchen is warm and smells like butter and herbs. She checks the turkey, then turns to face me.
“You are happy, right?”
The question is simple. The answer isn’t.
“Yes.”
She studies my face. “Really?”
“Yes.” And it’s not a lie. That’s the problem.
She watches me closely. “This arrangement. Are you romantically involved with them?”
My breath catches. “Yes.”
She nods slowly, like she was expecting that answer. “Does Ben know?”
“No.” My stomach twists. “He won’t react well.”
“Probably not.” She squeezes my hand. “But you should tell him. You shouldn’t hold important truths from people you love.”
“I know.” I look down at my hands. “But I have to figure out how and when.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then pulls me into a hug. I let myself sink into it for five seconds before pulling back.
“Just don’t wait too long.” Her hand squeezes my shoulder. “These things have a way of coming out when you least expect them.”
I need air. Or space. Or five minutes alone to process that my mother knows the truth.
“I’m going to use the restroom upstairs,” I tell her. “The main one is probably occupied.”
She nods, understanding more than I said.
I head for the stairs, taking them slowly. The upstairs hallway is quiet. Empty. I pause at the top of the stairs and let myself breathe.
There are footsteps behind me. I turn. Silas.
He closes the distance between us in three steps, backs me against the wall, and kisses me.
His hands frame my face, and his mouth is demanding, and I open for him immediately because I’ve been wanting this since the gala. Since the hotel. And maybe since I was a kid and had a crush on him. I have always wanted him—wanted them.
He pulls back just enough to speak, his forehead against mine.
“I don’t care about the rules anymore.”
My pulse is racing. “Silas, are you sure?”
“I want this.” His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “I want you.”
I can’t breathe. “What made you change your mind?”
His hand drags through his hair. “Ben has been like my brother since we were eight. Your mom helped raise us after ours died. I’ve watched you make Callum stop fighting everything. Make Evan stop hiding. And I’m the only one still standing outside of it.”
His knuckles press against his mouth. Then drop.
“I don’t know what will happen when we tell Ben. And this is hard, because I’ve spent my whole life knowing exactly what comes next. I don’t anymore.”
He closes the space he just created.
“But I want this. All of it. My brothers. Your family. You.” His hand slides along my jaw. “Mostly you.”
He kisses me again. Harder this time. His arm wraps around my waist, hauling me against him, and my spine meets the wall.
“But not now.” He releases me and steps back. “Not in Ben’s house. And I need to find the right way to tell him.”
“Okay,” I manage.
He looks at me for another moment, long enough that I feel it everywhere, then he heads back downstairs without another word.
I stand there against the wall, heart racing, lips still tingling, and realize everything just changed.
All three of them are mine now.
I take another minute to compose myself before heading to the bathroom. After taking a few deep breaths, I splash cold water on my face and try to look normal.
When I come back downstairs, my legs are steadier than they should be, but my hands are shaking when I reach the living room.
Callum notices immediately. His eyes narrow, tracking my face, then his gaze shifts to where Silas sits on the couch, perfectly composed.
Recognition crosses Callum’s face, then he grins. Evan is watching too, and when our eyes meet, understanding passes between us.
The energy in the room has changed. It’s subtle. The kind of thing only we would feel.
But I feel it.
Ben doesn’t. He’s talking about work, some deal he closed last week, and the triplets engage as if nothing happened. Like Silas didn’t just back me against a wall upstairs and tell me that he’s finally giving in to the feelings he’s suppressed for months.
My mom calls us to the table twenty minutes later, and we all move into the dining room. The turkey sits in the center, golden and perfect, surrounded by sides my mom’s been cooking all day.
I sit between Callum and Evan. Silas takes the seat across from me. Ben sits at the head of the table, and my mom sits at the other end.
Plates get passed. Food gets served. My mom asks about the company, and Silas answers while Callum steals a roll off my plate.
Then Ben reaches for the wine bottle. “Tania, you want red?”
“Actually,” Callum’s already moving, grabbing a different bottle from the counter behind him. “She prefers white.”
He pours without asking and sets the glass in front of me.
Ben’s hand freezes on the red bottle.
He looks at Callum. Then at me. Then back at Callum.
His mouth opens like he’s about to ask something. He doesn’t.
Instead, he pours himself red and sits back in his chair. But I see it—the pause.
Evan shifts beside me, his knee brushing mine under the table, grounding me.
Conversation picks back up, but all I can think about is Ben sitting there, oblivious.
But even if he is not oblivious, everyone at this table knows the truth about our relationship except him. His three best friends. His sister. His mom. We’re all lying. And that is not fair to him, because Ben is one of the most wonderful human beings on this planet.
By the time we finish eating, my shoulders are tight, and my nerves are frayed completely. We clear plates together—my mom and I—while Evan and Callum sprawl on the couch.
“I’ll get the dessert plates.” My mom heads toward the dining room. “Ben, can you help me cut the pies?”
They leave the kitchen. Silas brings in the last of the dishes.
His fingers linger on mine when he hands me a plate. I glance at him, and he doesn’t look away.
This is different now. He’s different. We’re loading the dishwasher when Ben appears in the doorway.
“Dessert’s ready.”
We return to the dining room, where Mom has cut the pies and plated them.
I take a bite of the apple pie, and the cinnamon hits my tongue first, then the butter from the crust.
“Delicious,” Mom declares. “You really made these?”
I nod.
“With some help,” Evan reminds me.
“We weren’t really that much help,” Callum adds.
We eat in comfortable quiet—forks scraping plates and coffee cups being refilled.
When we finish, Mom starts packing leftovers before we can protest.
“Take these,” she insists, pressing containers into Evan’s hands. “You’re not leaving empty-handed.”
We gather our coats and say our goodbyes.
Ben hugs me at the door. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
He holds on a second longer than usual. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”
My throat tightens. “Of course.”
It’s a lie. The guilt is getting to me. He lets go of me.
Mom hugs me last. “Remember what I said.”
“I will.”
Outside, the cold is a stark contrast to the warmth of my brother’s house. Callum unlocks the car and gets into the driver’s seat.
Silas opens the back door for me. Then slides in beside me instead of taking the front.
Evan takes the front passenger seat.
I’m pressed between Silas and the door, and he’s not giving me space.
His thigh is against mine.
“Comfortable?” I ask.
“Very.”
Callum starts the engine and pulls away from the curb.
Silas’s hand finds my knee. Not sexual. Possessive.
“You’ve been patient.” His voice is low, meant only for me.
“Have I?”
“You have.” His thumb traces a slow circle against the inside of my knee. “I appreciate that.”
My pulse kicks up. “And now you’re done making me wait?”
“Now I’m done making you wait.” His fingers tighten on my knee. “And when we get home, I’m going to fuck you, and I’m keeping you in my room until morning.”
Oh my God. Arousal pools at my core. Callum can’t drive fast enough.
Evan turns around in his seat, catches what’s happening, and raises his eyebrows. Callum’s watching in the mirror, grinning.
The drive home takes fifteen minutes. It feels like an hour.
Silas doesn’t move his hand and doesn’t stop the slow, deliberate pressure of his thumb.
By the time we pull into the garage, I’m wound tight. We take the elevator up, and Silas stands behind me, close enough that I feel him breathe.
The doors open, and we step into the penthouse.
Silas doesn’t give me time to take off my coat. He bends and lifts me into the air and throws me over his shoulder.
“Silas!” I squeak.
Callum bursts out laughing.
“Finally!” Evan’s clapping. Actually clapping.
I twist enough to see them both in the entryway—Callum with his arms crossed, pleased, and Evan still applauding.
I wave.
They wave back.
Silas heads down the hallway toward his room.
“Have fun, Red!” Callum calls after us.
“If you need anything,” Silas starts, “Fuck off until tomorrow.”