Chapter 43 #2
“Don't need to apologise to him,” Rhys says, not looking away from Lance. “You didn't do anything wrong.”
“But, you ar—” I start as I get down off the stool. But my foot hits the ground wrong and my ankle rolls, and I'm crumpling. Marcus is there instantly, one arm hooking round my waist and hauling me straight into him.
“Hey, babygirl.” His mouth's right at my ear, low and dark, sending chills through my body. “Is this skirt new? I don't remember it on the floor of my bedroom, or bunched up around your waist when my tongue's inside you.”
Holy shit. I need a much stiffer... drink.
“Let go of me, Marcus.”
I peel myself out of his arms, grab a fistful of shirt each from Marcus and Zachary, jerk my head at Rhys to follow, and drag the three of them towards the quiet end of the bar, throwing an “excuse us” at Lance, over my shoulder, who lifts a hand in a small, bewildered wave.
“What the fuck,” I say, the second we're out of earshot, “are you doing here? And why the hell did you say that to Lance?”
“So it has a name.” Marcus, arms crossed, entirely unbothered. “Creepy Dicky Grabby Hands has a name.”
“I think I'll stick with 'Creepy Dicky Grabby Hands',” Zachary says. “More descriptive.”
I grit my teeth. “Yes. He has a name. His name is Lance Boland, he is a perfectly nice guy, who now thinks I have a psychotic boyfriend.”
“Is that supposed to sound like a bad thing?” Marcus says. “Sounds like mission accomplished.”
“Want me and Rhys to go over and clarify?” Zachary tips his head.
I frown. “Um... wha—?”
Zachary runs a hand down my arms as he says, “Let him know he's actually dealing with three psychotic, possessive, completely unhinged boyfriends?”
I hang my head. I should've known better. “What are you even doing here? Why are you here?”
“Well, firstly, we own the place,” Marcus says.
“Yeah, well, you haven't seemed to care about it much the last few days. Where have you been?”
Zachary shrugs, easy. “Took a mental health break. Bit of fishing. Bit of sunbathing by the water trough.”
“Don't forget the naked parasailing,” Marcus says.
Zachary visibly cringes. “I'm actively trying to forget that part. In fact, I feel like this is in violation of the agreement that what happens on The Trip stays on The Trip.”
“Hey. Focus. You guys just…left!” I'm loud-whispering, but by the way Hunter and Aria are very surreptitiously not seating people at tables close to us, I've subscribed to the Betty School of Volume.
“You didn't tell anyone where you were going. What if something had happened and you were needed here?”
“My managers knew how to reach me,” Zachary says with a shrug.
“Why?” Rhys finally says, watching me closely. “Did you want to get in touch with us?”
I clamp my mouth shut before I say something I shouldn't. When I think I can trust my mouth to behave, I just say, “No.”
The corner of Rhys's mouth threatens to curl up and I glower at him as he says, “Okay. Just checking. Leon's been giving us updates on you, anyway.”
Something in my chest drops. “Leon's been in contact with you? He didn't tell me that. When? He told me he's been on a rehab retreat that Patrick organised for him.”
They all share a look.
“He... was. Of sorts,” Zachary says.
“We went on it with him. And he took our phones,” Marcus says. “So we, um, concentrated on... rehabbing.” His face breaks into a grin. “Nice to know you still care, though.”
If looks could kill, I'd be on the run, with Betty as my getaway driver, and the headline would read: Owners of Local Bars Found Shot by Eyeball Laser.
“Anyway, now we're back,” Rhys says, “you want to explain who Lance is, and why he had his hands all over you?”
“His creepy dicky grabby hands,” Marcus adds, touching my collar.
I swat his hands away. “He did not have his hands all over me. I got sauce on my shirt and he was helping me get it off before it stained.”
Marcus nods and turns to the other guys. “Oh yeah, that's a good one. I've used that one before.”
“I don't doubt it,” I growl. “If anything he probably got it from the Manwhore Playbook by Marcus Shaw.”
“Are you jealous, baby?” He tilts his head, a smirk on his lips. “I think you might be jealous. You can admit it, I won't hold it against you.”
“Why on earth would I be jealous? We're not together anymore, remember?”
That does it. The grin drops off him completely, and before I can move he's got a hand at the back of my neck, pulling me in against his chest. And it just feels so... safe. Familiar. I have to stop myself leaning into it.
“That's not funny, Alexia.” Anger edges into his voice.
“I wasn't joking, Marcus.”
I push off him, and for a second nobody says anything at all.
“Look.” Zachary, gentler now, all the teasing gone. “We came to talk. I'm sorry we interrupted your date. But can we please sit down for a minute? There are things we need to say to you. How we can make this work.”
I feel the fight go out of me all at once, and what's left is just bone-deep fatigue. “I don't think there's anything left to say. This was never going to work. I think we all know that now.”
“It can work.” Rhys says it steady, certain.
“We'll make it work. We're not going to make you choose between the three of us, that's over, we're done with that.
And we're going to make it work with Leon.
It's not conventional. It'll probably always be hard.
But we're in. We're going to fight for this.”
I look at him for a long moment, and something in my face must give it away, because he stops.
“Aren't you tired of it being hard, though?” I say it soft, no anger or cruelty. “Don't you want the chance to have something easy? Something you don't have to fight for?”
His chest lifts once, falls, and then he nods.
“Alexi. I get it. We did this. We three did this to you.
We taught you not to expect us to fight for you, that you weren't worth fighting for.
That's on us.” His eyes fill with truth and sorrow.
“We're so fucking sorry for that. But you are worth it.
You're the only thing I've ever actually thought was worth fighting for.”
My throat goes tight and I have to look away from him before I can even hope to say what needs to be said.
“It's too late,” I say. “And I'm not going to be here for you to fight for, anyway.”
There's a beat before they realise what I've said.
“What the hell does that mean?” Zachary, all the softness gone.
“Lance works for the business council, Sydney North office. Aria knows someone there, she put us in touch. I interviewed a few days ago.” I make myself keep going, even though each word is like a knife to the throat.
“They've offered me the job today. Tonight's just a get-to-know-you drink, before he flies back tomorrow.
I'll be in Sydney for my thesis defence, and I'll be back for my last week of work here.
But after that I'm moving to Sydney. For good.”
Nobody says anything. There's nothing left to say. And I think we all know it.
“This...” I start, my breath coming out in broken fragments. “The time I had with you was everything. More than I ever thought I'd get to have. But it's over now. You don't have to worry about any of it anymore, about me, about choosing between me and my brother. Life chose for us.”
My eyes are stinging so badly the three of them blur into one shape by the time I finish.
Some small, stupid, hopeful part of me is still waiting for one of them to say something that can magically fix it.
But that's too much to ask. Maybe I don't believe I'm worth the fight, whatever they say.
And it's not fair to keep making them try.
“Lex. Please.” Zachary's voice is like a temporary balm and I want to bathe in it. But I just smile at them one last time and I turn around and walk away.