Chapter 9
By Saturday morning, my cottage had become an office, my suitcase had become a political object, and Mango had learned the word “mine.”
“Mine!” he yelled from the porch as I carried a monitor through the back door.
“That’s a twenty-seven-inch display. If you can lift it, we can discuss ownership.”
“Mine!”
“Strong legal theory.”
Nora walked behind me carrying exactly one mouse pad because Cole had informed her that expensive electronics were not part of her moving assignment.
“I could carry a lens,” she said.
“I know.”
“Two lenses.”
“I also know that.”
“Your dad has infected this entire house with risk assessment.”
“He says that’s not a bad thing.”
“Of course he does.”
Cole came through the doorway behind her with my printer in both hands.
“It isn’t.”
I turned carefully so I could walk backward into the cottage.
“Captain OSHA, your testimony has been noted.”
His eyes moved over me, slow enough to become a separate conversation.
The previous time we had been alone in a small room, he had kissed me against a boat cabin wall until my knees forgot their job.
My knees remembered.
So did the rest of me.
Cole set the printer on the new desk Gray had moved in before breakfast.
“Where do you want it?”
“Left side.”
Nora frowned. “Why?”
“Because the monitor goes center, card reader to the right, backup drive behind that, and if I put the printer on the right I’ll hit it with my camera bag every time I turn around.”
She considered the layout.
“That makes sense.”
Cole looked at her. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was evaluating.”
I pointed at Nora. “She’s spending too much time with Gray.”
From behind us, Gray said, “There are worse influences.”
I looked over my shoulder.
He stood in the doorway with a power strip, two cable clips, and the expression of a man who had just overheard slander regarding electrical organization.
Rafe appeared behind him carrying four iced coffees.
“There are also better influences.”
Gray did not turn around. “You put a pancake in the toaster yesterday.”
“It needed reheating.”
“It had syrup on it.”
“Mistakes were made.”
“Fire was nearly made.”
Rafe handed me a coffee.
“Ignore him. He fears innovation.”
I took it and immediately recognized the amount of cream I liked.
That should not have mattered.
It did.
“Thank you.”
His grin softened for half a second.
“You’re welcome.”
Then his gaze dropped to the monitor, printer, drives, laptop stand, camera cases, and two empty shelves already waiting for whatever part of my professional life I decided belonged in Cape Mercy.
“So this is officially Piper Hale Photography, Cape Mercy branch?”
The word branch hit harder than it had any right to.
I took a drink instead of answering immediately.
“More like Piper Hale Photography, temporary coastal command center.”
Gray attached a cable clip under the back edge of the desk.
“Temporary equipment should still have cable management.”
“Do you hear yourself?”
“Constantly.”
Nora wandered toward the window.
“Can I put a picture here?”
“Your picture?”
She nodded.
“Absolutely.”
Cole’s attention shifted toward her.
Nora looked out the window as if the question had been casual.
“I could draw the marina.”
“I’d like that.”
Her shoulders lowered.
Tiny movement.
Camera people noticed tiny movements.
So did fathers.
Cole looked at me.
I pretended not to see how much feeling had crossed his face because sometimes being observant meant knowing when not to point the lens.
Rafe leaned against the counter where Gray and I had very recently behaved in ways the countertop manufacturer had not anticipated.
I looked away before my face supplied historical evidence.
Unfortunately, Gray saw me look away.
His mouth moved.
Barely.
Bastard.
Nora turned from the window. “Where are you sleeping now?”
The cottage went silent.
Apparently the universe had become tired of subtlety.
I looked at her.
She looked genuinely curious.
Cole said, “Nora.”
“What?”
“That’s Piper’s business.”
“I know. I asked Piper.”
Rafe stared into his coffee.
Gray became fascinated by a cable clip.
I was surrounded by cowards.
I set my cup down.
“I’m still sleeping in the main house.”
Three adult male heads lifted with such synchronized speed that Nora noticed.
Her eyebrows pulled together.
“Why did everybody do that?”
Rafe recovered first.
“Neck exercises.”
“No.”
“Family tradition.”
“No.”
Cole said, “Rafe.”
“Fine.”
Nora looked at me again.
“So this is just your office?”
“Office and private space. I might sleep out here sometimes too. But I’m not moving my stuff out of the guest room today.”
“Okay.”
That was it.
No tiny-child blessing.
No interrogation.
No sudden declaration that I belonged with her father and also his two best friends because children apparently understood polyamory better than adults in poorly written fiction.
Just okay.
Nora picked up the empty mouse box.
“Can I keep this?”
“Why?”
“It’s a good box.”
I looked at Cole.
“Your child is secretly Gray.”
“Everyone becomes Gray eventually,” Rafe said.
“That is not true,” Gray said.
“It sounded frightened, though.”
Nora left with the box.
Cole followed because they had a grocery run before her afternoon birthday party.
Rafe had Nico until three, when Dani was picking him up for an overnight visit with cousins on the mainland. Gray was taking June to meet Leah for a children’s museum trip and sleepover.
Which meant that by approximately four o’clock, for the first time since I had arrived, the beach house would contain four adults, zero children, and one bird with no concept of discretion.
My body became aware of that fact before my judgment did.
Gray finished securing the power strip and stood.
“There.”
I looked under the desk.
No loose cords.
No trip hazard.
No visible chaos.
“You know this is foreplay for you.”
Rafe choked on his coffee.
Gray looked at me.
“It is not.”
“You installed a deadbolt yesterday.”
“That was security.”
“And then?”
His eyes narrowed.
Rafe looked between us.
Then his face changed.
“Oh.”
I pointed at him. “No.”
“Oh.”
“Absolutely not.”
Rafe pressed both lips together.
His eyes were sparkling.
Gray said, “If you speak, I will put your lesson spreadsheet on the public website.”
Rafe’s amusement vanished.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I have administrator access.”
“You monster.”
I laughed.
This was ridiculous.
All of it.
The room. The men. The fact that two of them had now seen me naked in varying percentages while the third kept looking at my mouth like self-control was a personal grievance.
And beneath the ridiculousness was something I could no longer pretend was casual enough to manage through avoidance.
I straightened.
“We need to talk.”
Rafe groaned.
Gray immediately said, “Yes.”
Naturally.
Cole’s voice came from the doorway.
“About what?”
He had come back for the reusable grocery bags hanging on a hook inside the cottage.
Or the universe had decided to save me scheduling.
I looked at all three men.
“About the fact that I have kissed all of you.”
Rafe raised one hand.
“I support the program.”
“Not helping.”
He lowered it.
Cole stepped inside and closed the screen door behind him.
Gray folded his arms.
I hated that I had started this conversation.
Which was probably why I needed to finish it.
“I don’t want to wake up three weeks from now and discover I’ve accidentally been having three separate relationships that none of you can stand existing at the same time.”
Rafe’s expression lost the joke first.
Good.
“I can stand it,” he said.
Gray looked at him.
Rafe exhaled.
“I can stand parts of it.”
“Better,” I said.
Cole leaned against the wall near the door.
“I don’t like thinking about you with them.”
No hesitation.
The bluntness surprised me.
Rafe glanced at him. “Same.”
Gray nodded once.
“Same.”
I looked among them.
“Okay.”
Rafe spread his hands. “That’s it?”
“What do you want me to do with your jealousy?”
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Gray said, “Nothing.”
Rafe looked at him.
Gray continued, “It’s ours.”
Something inside me loosened.
Cole nodded.
“It doesn’t mean we won’t say it.”
“Please say it,” I said. “I can handle uncomfortable. I cannot handle being punished for breaking rules nobody told me existed.”
All three of them went still.
Apparently I had found the load-bearing sentence.
Rafe rubbed his jaw.
“I don’t want rules about who gets you when.”
“Good, because I am not a vacation rental.”
His mouth twitched.
Gray said, “I don’t want that either.”
Cole looked toward the window, then back at me.
“What do you want?”
There it was.
The question I was learning to hate because these men kept asking it like my answer was supposed to matter.
I looked at Rafe first.
“I want what is happening with you to keep happening.”
His eyes warmed.
I looked at Gray.
“Same.”
Gray’s folded arms loosened.
Then Cole.
“And same.”
His gaze held mine.
Heat moved under my skin.
I kept going before courage developed a scheduling conflict.
“I also want the ability to be alone. I want my work to stay mine. I want the cottage because I need somewhere that isn’t part of anybody’s relationship with me.”
Gray nodded immediately.
Rafe took a second, then nodded too.
Cole said, “Good.”
The answer irritated me.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
“You’re all being distressingly reasonable.”
Rafe recovered enough to say, “We can fight if that makes you more comfortable.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. Pillow allocation.”
Gray said, “You use too many.”
“I require lumbar support.”
“You sleep on your stomach.”
“I contain multitudes.”
I laughed despite myself.
Cole did too, quietly.
Then his expression settled again.
“The kids.”
I looked at him.
There it was.
The other load-bearing issue.
Rafe stopped smiling.
Gray unfolded his arms.
Cole said, “Whatever happens with us, I don’t want them living inside adult uncertainty.”
“Neither do I.”
Gray’s voice was firm. “June doesn’t need details. She does need consistency.”
“Nico too,” Rafe said. “He doesn’t need to know who kissed who. He needs to know who is picking him up and whether pancake sharks remain available.”
“Conceptual pancake sharks,” I said.
“Important distinction.”