by Dee Palmer
“Logan! Cass! Come quickly! Logan! Cass! Now!” The terror in Tia’s voice has us both flat out sprinting for the back door. I reach it first and slam my hand across the doorway, preventing Logan from passing.
“Wait!” I hiss.
“Wait? What the hell, Cass, she needs us.” He growls, pushing his full force against my arm. The angle makes my bones creak, and it feels like my elbow is about to snap. I hold my position, and with my glare, I urge him to wait and shut the fuck up.
“Logan! Cass! There’s a huge fucking bee crawling toward the babies, please! Whatever you’re doing, drop it and come here NOW!”
“Cass, move your arm,” Logan grits. His nostrils flare with pent up rage.
“Just wait.” I keep my voice quiet but punctuate each word with resolute conviction.
“I can see the fucking bee from here, Cass. She’s not lying.” He pushes forward, and I wince from the pain shooting up my arm. I jerk my weight to push him back a little. His feet skid on the tile floor and all of a sudden he stops trying to get past me.
“I can see she isn’t lying, Logan. I can also see the bee is a fair distance from the babies and it’s barely moving. Tia on the other hand…look.”
“Oh my god!” Logan breathes out slowly, and we both watch, careful to stay out of her periphery.
“I’m going to fucking kill you two when you get out here!” Tia yells over her shoulder as she eases herself onto all fours and begins to shakily crawl the short distance from the lounger to the blanket with her babies. She grabs one of the teething toys scattered around and flicks the bumble bee clear off the blanket. She sags down next to the babies, who remain oblivious to both the unlikely danger of being stung and the miracle of their mother moving under her own power.
I let my arm fall, and Logan pushes past. We both jog over to Tia.
“You crawled.” Logan drops to his knees, a huge grin splits his face.
“You saw that did you? Didn’t think to come when I screamed though. You’re both arseholes, you know that, right?” She is drawing in some rapid breaths no doubt from the rush of adrenalin and the physical exertion.
“You crawled,” I repeat and sit down on the blanket beside her. She rolls onto her back and pitches up on one arm, using the other to shield the sun from her eyes.
“I did. I really did,” she says after she lets the smile on her face light up the whole damn world.
“Want to try and stand?” Logan asks.
“Yes.” She bites her bottom lip and nods enthusiastically, holding her arms up for assistance. We each take an arm and lift her to her feet. Her toes curl into the blanket and we both have to crouch so she can support herself on our shoulders.
It’s clear we’re no longer bearing all her weight. She takes a step forward and I want to cry. Tia does. She gasps and her cheeks are instantly soaked as she takes another tentative step.
“My legs feel very wobbly, but they are definitely listening to me.”
“You’ve lost a lot of muscle strength,” I explain. Even if she’s heard it a fair few times, this time it means something. This time she can actually feel what it means. “You have some because of all the exercises we do, and now that you can support yourself, muscle tone will really improve.”
“Let’s not go crazy. We both know I’m hitting the deck as soon as you let me go.” She looks at me and Logan, holding and sharing the intensity of this moment in a single gaze.
“Never going to happen.”
“Never letting you go princess.” I add my own vow to Logan’s truth.
One Month Later
“We’re really doing this?” I yawn, rub my eyes against the soft filter of sunlight peeking through the heavy blinds. Stretching my toes to a point under the light cotton cover, I exhale a still sleepy sigh and relax back into the cocoon of limbs and hot, heavy bodies in this massive bed, our massive bed. This is my morning ritual, and each day it feels a lot like a dream. I wake with Atticus and Logan wrapped around me, and if we’re lucky, like we are today, our babies are asleep in the nursery next door.
“Oh, baby, we are so doing this.” Logan rolls me over away from him so he can spoon and cup me from behind, his large hand on my breast and his hot breath tickling my neck. My cheeks ache with the deep smile, which seems to be permanently etched on my face.
“I can’t believe we’ve waited a whole month as it is.” Atticus shifts his weight so he is facing me nose-to-nose, and I think his smile must match my own for size. His crystal clear blue eyes reflect the morning sun and bore into me. I know what he’s looking for, and although I am in love with this idea, I can’t help this niggling feeling of what’s the point.
“But it’s not legal. I mean it’s not recognised anywhere outside of Tartarus Hall and maybe a few cults. It seems a little superfluous.”
“Mmm, I love your filthy mouth.” Logan nibbles at my earlobe, and I giggle.
“That wasn’t filthy,” I argue.
“Saying our wedding was ‘superfluous’ is more than filthy, it’s a crime.” Atticus grins at Logan over my shoulder and carries the situation, his tone brooking no further discussion.
“Tia we’ve gone over this. No, it’s not remotely recognised, and I do believe neither of us gives an actual fuck. This is our decision, and this is what we all want. This is happening…today.” His lips cover mine before I can retort. I wasn’t going to, I just needed to hear the certainty in both their voices one more time. His light kiss ends and he rolls onto his back with a self-satisfied, smug expression, his arms pulled up behind his head. I pitch up onto my elbow and then wriggle free so I am sitting cross-legged and staring at them both. A space down the middle of the bed I recently vacated separates to two most beautiful creatures I have ever laid eyes on. Opposite in almost every way, yet similar too, and uncommonly bonded over me.
Logan has darker skin and a light dusting of dark hair on his broad, defined muscular chest. His glossy chocolate-brown hair falls over one side of his face, and his dark scruff of beard perfectly enhances his strong jawline. Whereas Atticus is pale, has broad shoulders, a cut chest with smooth skin over ripples of undulating ab muscles. He keeps his icy blond hair short, with longer length at the front, which strategically flops into his piercing eyes. How we’ve avoided sex for a whole month is beyond all reasonable tests of endurance. What was I thinking, agreeing to abstain?
Heavy lidded eyes, with searing intensity and palpable desire strike me hard in the chest and a little further down. I swallow the ever-present lump in my throat and speak.
“So you two shouldn’t be in here then, should you?” My strained tone sounds more forceful than I had intended, but honestly, the vision before me is hot as hell and all kinds of distracting.
“I like it when you try to be all bossy.” Atticus smirks.
“Yes, it’s cute.”
“It’s tradition,” I huff, ignoring their patronising tones. “There’s not much else that’s traditional about this poly marriage, so why don’t you two bugger off and let me at least surprise you with the dress.”
“As you wish, princess.” The baby sensor sparks to life with the first sound of morning chatter and is far more successful than my instruction. Logan and Atticus leap into action. Jumping one leg into his jeans, Atticus hops over to the door, grabbing clothes as he goes.
Logan leans down to kiss me before heading after Atticus, naked.
“Logan, we have guests staying!” He waves his hand, dismissing the horror in my voice. I sigh when he grabs a dressing gown from the back of the door at the last minute. Seconds later, they both appear with our babies.
“Is your father helping?” I walk over to Atticus and Aurora and grab a quick hug and snuggle from each. We have about five minutes before food becomes their major priority.
“Yes, my father and Susan are already at the Hall. It may not be ready to move into yet but the kitchen and Orangery are perfect for today. The guest room is all set for you to get ready, and we can leave as
soon as the babies are fed. Ivan and Susan will be coming back here with the little ones after the ceremony. Who knew instant grandparents could be so useful?”
“I can’t believe you didn’t contact him as soon as you knew the truth.”
“I had more than a little on my mind, and besides, I wanted to make sure you were okay with introducing my real family to our family.”
“You didn’t need to wait; I’m sure Logan would’ve checked them out.”
Logan comically avoids all eye contact. When silence falls, he holds up his one free hand in surrender and explains. “Family isn’t always best, but what we have is special, and I will protect that, whatever the cost. As it is, your father and stepmom are squeaky clean and brilliant with these two.”
“I know this is going to sound a little slutty, but since I woke up all those weeks ago”—sometimes, it feels like a lifetime—“and the decision was made to wait until I was better and then to wait until we were married, the abstinence thing feels more like a punishment, a sex ban. Every morning I’ve had to wake up entwined with the two hottest men on the planet and keep my hands to myself. It has just about driven me insane. So if you don’t mind…I want to get this day over so my wedding night can begin.”
“Oh, I like slutty Tia better than bossy Tia.” Atticus grins.
“Mmm, I like horny Tia.” Logan steps behind me, running his strong hands up my thighs and sweeping them around the front, up and not quite to where I’m aching the most.
“Oh god, you’re going to kill me, guys. Please, please…”
“And we both love Tia when she’s begging,” Logan whispers, and I have to force myself to step out of his hold. I hand Arran back to him and scowl.
“Do you like pissed off Tia, because you are so damn close.” They step back from my escalating hostility.
“Not yet we aren’t, but tonight, princess…tonight.”
“Out!”
“We’re gone.” I close the door, which doesn’t quite slam on the account of it’s a fire door. The satisfaction of a good slam is lost, but I think they got the point.
I flop back on the bed, and my head falls heavily into the plumpness of my pillow. I let out a sexually frustrated groan that echoes off the walls and along the corridor. I know it does since I can hear Atticus and Logan laughing their arses off. It’s been a long month.
After the doctor gave me the okay and I had convinced the men I was fine, fighting fit even, and my leg strength was nearly back to normal, they sat me down and had the talk. The late summer sun was warming the rear garden and terrace of Logan’s townhouse. After dinner we had moved to the lounge area with oversized cushions and cosy cashmere blankets for when the sun finally disappeared and the night chills crept in. Candles and Tiki torches ran the perimeter of the terrace, and there was a fragrant mix of roses and citronella. It was very romantic even if the conversation was more than a little surreal.
“Seriously, how does this work?” It isn’t the first time they have floored me with their united front. I guess that’s what happens when you work as a team, Atticus and Logan have spent every day together, worrying about, caring for, and loving me.
“What do you mean?” Logan frowns, and his dark brows dominate the confusion on his face.
“I mean, I get the premise, just the practicality of it all. I mean, will there be a rota? I know for a fact neither of you share.” I scoff and take a sip of my wine.
“Don’t we?”
“Eh?” My jaw drops when they glance at each other and shrug off my concern.
“Look Tia, things change, and I’m not saying Logan is ever going to be anything other than a rival, but I’ve never been afraid of a little competition. And yes, I will be hoping he fucks up one day and I get you all to myself.” Atticus winks at me, but I see the spark of truth in his wicked eyes, and I’m not the only one.
“I saw that, and you can dream on, pretty boy, you’re the one with the history when it comes to fuck-ups,” Logan counters without a hint of animosity. This is so strange.
“Oh, I think you did just fine in that department too.” Atticus retorts.
“As I recall, neither of you covered yourselves in glory.” I sniff.
“And yet you love us both.” They place their drinks on the low table and come and sit on either side of me. Logan pulls my legs across his lap, and Atticus lifts me so I am half on his lap half facing Logan.
“I do…I really do. Is that wrong? Because sometimes it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels kind of selfish, actually.”
“It’s not. Don’t ever think that, and I’m with Atticus; he’ll fuck up one day and then you’re all mine.”
“Great, so both of you are going to have to have eyes in the back of your head the whole time. How is that healthy for anyone?”
“Can’t fight nature Tia, we’ll both always want to be the Alpha.”
“Great.” I drop my head back against Atticus’s chest and sigh. I love and hate this. Mostly I’m worried it’s not real. “How is this sustainable if you both feel like that?”
“As long as you don’t pick a favourite, this will work.” Logan fixes me with a sincere stare, and I almost feel the seriousness of the resolution in his tone. “We’ve discussed this at length, Tia, and I’m only a little bit serious about wanting Atticus to fuck up.”
“I’m completely serious about wanting you to fuck up, but I’ve no intention of influencing that. We may be an unconventional family but we are family, and we’ll make this work. You love us, and we love you. Simple…the rest is just stuff.”
“Hey that’s my saying; get your own.” Logan leans across me and punches Atticus in the arm. I sit up, preventing a full-on tussle.
“All right, you have me sold on the theory, what about the practice?” I direct my question at both of them.
“The rota?” Atticus asks.
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s not going to work for either of us,” Atticus answers and Logan nods his agreement.
“It isn’t?”
“No, it’s not that I don’t trust him, but let’s face it, I don’t trust him. So the idea of you cozying up every other night with me on my PlayStation? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Logan clarifies.
“Agreed.”
“So you mean…?” I leave the weight of the unasked question hanging, like the big fat taboo it is.
“We live together, we sleep together, and we definitely play together.”
Gulp.
“That work for you, princess? All for one and one for all, as it were?” Atticus swipes his arm around my waist and pulls me against his erection. Logan moves to fill the space created in front of me. His own rock solid length now pressed firmly against my leg. His lips brush mine when he exhales the words, and I swim in the sensual potency.
“All in, T?”
“All in,” I mouth, my words swallowed by his hungry kiss.
The legal side was pretty simple. It isn’t legal. For the sake of the babies we have signed, witnessed documents that we are each other’s beneficiaries and trusts are in place for Arran and Aurora, today is for us. We are having our ‘wedding’ at the Hall where I will ‘marry’ both of them.
We know our ceremony isn’t remotely legal but it’s our day and as symbols of unity go, a wedding has to top the list of declarations of love and commitment.
We don’t need a blessing and no magistrate would agree to undertake such a ceremony, and none of that matters. It turns out Angus was a Captain in the Royal Navy in the war and was more than happy to use this very tenuous link of him being able to wed couples at sea, in order to do the honours. There are several religions that allow for multiple wives but none that allow for multiple husbands, although in Tibet it is allowed on rare occasions. However, since none of us are of Tibetan decent—and trust me, Logan checked—we are pretty much making this up as we go.
I don’t care. I think I’m the luckiest girl in the world, and this day is just a bonus. It also marks the sta
rt of our real life together. In my infinite wisdom, which also happened to be my most stupid decision to date, I agreed to the suggestion we abstain from sex until our wedding night. Both Logan and Atticus thought it would make our wedding night more. It has definitely made every day more of a challenge. We share one bed, and they continue to torture me with their nearness each night. This day couldn’t come quick enough, and tonight, I have a feeling so will I.
The renovated guest bedroom suite in Tartarus Hall where I am about to get ready is stunning. A hand carved oak four poster bed dominates the room with sweeping gold embroidered fleur-de-lis curtains draped on each side, sumptuous pillows and a mattress so thick the princess would never find that damn pea. Matching bespoke furniture is scattered around the large room; chaise longue, ottoman and a beautiful gilt dressing table that, in any other room, might look gaudy but it’s perfectly in keeping with this grand old house.
I have been perched on the edge of the bed, afraid to wrinkle the pristine covers but the clock is ticking, and I need to get ready. I ease myself to my feet, still acutely aware of how lucky I am that I am able to do just that. I give a full body shiver, not at the temperature since the heat of the high summer sun blazes into the room and strikes my body with its warming rays. I shudder from the enormity of the day. I’m really doing this. I pad across the deep pile carpet to the thick velvet curtains and pull them wide. The bedroom over looks the Orangery, and I can see that six rows of chairs have been arranged in a semi circle with a small space down the centre. Ivy and calla lily garlands line the aisle and hang in festoons from the windows frames. There is a small podium, and at the other end of the room are several large round tables set up for the very few guests we’ve managed to corral into attending: Angus, obviously, and the new housekeeper, Mary; Logan calls her Mrs Potts and she doesn’t seem to mind. Atticus had a few school friends, and I had Maria from work. I also invited Tiffany from school who ran a successful online fashion business. She never left the village and mostly designed swimwear and jumped at the chance to make my wedding dress. Logan had a few friends who used to party with him, but only Atticus had any family. He contacted his real father as soon as I woke and has steadily started to build a relationship without the need for lies. All in all, it’s going to be a small affair of around fifty people, forty-seven more than I need.