Erica's Choice

by Sami Lee

  “I won’t have you spending all your time taking care of me and neglecting yourself.”

  “I’ll make my own decisions about that, Corey. Right now, you’re my priority.”

  Griff watched them staring each other down, two innately selfless souls competing for the title of martyr of the year. It was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. Years of this lay ahead and the thought filled him with a happiness like he’d never known. Not with any of the women or the guys he’d fooled around with over the years. Not with Anna and Jack, with whom he hadn’t really been one of three.

  Sure sometimes, like now, Erica and Corey seemed like two peas in a pod, a bona fide, born-to-be-together couple. But somehow they managed to be that without excluding him. They hadn’t meant to keep him out of it, neither one of them, and whatever fears he’d had about that were born of his own screwed-up psychosis, the past hurts that had stopped him letting down his shields.

  Good thing he wasn’t the only one in this trio who was screwed up. Lord knew no two people ever needed his particular brand of Dale Griffin-patented blunt rationale more than Corey and Erica.

  They needed him, the both of them. And Griff wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “So what am I over here,” he asked. “Chopped liver?”

  They both turned toward him. “Pardon me?” Erica said.

  “It might have escaped your notice, but I’m the only one in this room without any pressing medical problems. You think I can’t handle the both of you being in hospital at the same time?”

  Erica waved a hand. “I won’t even be admitted unless there are complications. I’ll be in and out in no time.”

  “Right. So have the damn procedure and get it over with.”

  “But Corey…”

  “Corey’s going to be on his back for a while. By the time he’s up and about I want you home with me sporting a brand-new rack.” He raked a gaze over her body, dressed today in a little floral skirt and a sleeveless white blouse that did great things for her voluptuous figure. “What size you going to go anyway?”

  It amazed him, after all they’d been through, that he could still make Erica’s cheeks turn that particular shade of crimson. “I thought I’d go a little smaller.”

  “What a shame.”

  “They’ll be fake, Dale. Why on earth would size matter?”

  “They make mighty pretty fake ones these days.” At the look she sent him, he shrugged. “So I’ve heard.”

  “Heard.” She looked doubtful. “Right.”

  “Come on, Red. If we can’t talk openly about your boobs, we haven’t come as far as I’d thought.”

  “Erica?”

  Corey’s prompt had Erica turning from Griff, her infuriated expression turning instantly to one of concern at the tone of his voice. “What’s the matter? Are you thirsty? Tired? Do you need me to…”

  “Baby, shh.”

  Griff saw the corners of Erica’s eyes start to glisten. “I’ve missed you calling me that.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve acted like such a jerk. Today and that other day, before the accident.”

  “I know. I got your voicemail message. And Griff rightly pointed out I shouldn’t have surprised you with news like that.”

  Corey sent him a glance filled with gratitude. Griff smiled, feeling pretty damn good about himself. Then Corey returned his attention to Erica. “I want you to have the mastectomy as soon as possible. I want you safe and healthy, or I’ll worry every day and that’s not good for my recovery.”

  Erica bit her lip and they could both see her thinking about it. Corey held her gaze and knew exactly what to say. “You will always be beautiful, no matter what.”

  Her voice was threadbare. “Oh, Corey.”

  “As soon as possible. Promise me.”

  Erica let out a shuddering breath. “All right. For you.”

  “I’ll try not to be offended that you let him talk you into it, but not me,” Griff drawled.

  “Silly man.” Erica gave him a reproachful look. “You know how much I love you, but Corey asks me things nicely instead of trying to push me around.”

  “You like me pushy. Where the hell would any of us be if I wasn’t pushy?”

  The three of them thought about it in heavy silence. Corey looked at him, and Griff knew he was recalling that first night when he’d only spoken to Erica based on Griff’s empty threat of stealing her away. And the high color on Erica’s cheeks told him she was remembering how he’d been the one to force her to admit her two-men-at-once fantasy—and every other fantasy that came after.

  So maybe he was an asshole sometimes, but he’d played a part in bringing them to this place. And Corey and Erica didn’t seem to mind who he was—in fact they loved him for it. It was a Christmas freaking miracle.

  “You gotta do one more favor for me, Red.”

  Erica sighed. “I hesitate to say ‘anything’, but go ahead.”

  Taking her hand, he kissed her knuckles and let the love shine out of his eyes, feeling his heart swell in his chest when he saw the same depth of emotion reflected back. “Give Corey a kiss, will ya? Tell him you love him because he was too drugged out of his brain to hear you all those other times.”

  A surprised gasp escaped her lips. She turned toward Corey and all but leapt on him, careful not to touch him anywhere he might feel it in a way that wasn’t pleasant. “Oh, Corey, of course I love you.” She kissed him, making a loud smooching noise to make up for the fact she couldn’t hug the life out of him. “I adore you.”

  She kissed him again and again, on the lips, on the cheek, on his poor bandaged head, while a laugh of pure joy bubbled out of Corey’s chest. “I screwed up so many times, baby.”

  “So did I. I’ll be better from now on.”

  “I’m the one who needs to improve.”

  “No way, you’re wonderful.”

  “You’re perfect.”

  “I’m not. But I do love you. I’ll never stop.”

  “I’m crazy about you.”

  They ceased trying to one-up each other’s gushy declarations only when the sound of Griff’s laughter caught their attention. Corey quirked his lips. “I’m crazy about you too.”

  Griff winked, his smile growing broader. “I know.”

  Corey rolled his eyes. “Jerk.”

  Maybe he was a jerk, but Griff realized Corey and Erica both loved him for it, as illogical as that may be. They loved him, accepted him, for who he was. Just as he knew who they were and loved them that way, warts, stubborn martyrdom and all. They were a team, Corey, Erica and him, one Griff was as pleased as punch to be on.

  There was nothing in life more beautiful than that.

  Epilogue

  Eleven months later

  “I did not.”

  “You so did.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I swear to you, Griff,” Corey huffed. “You can’t cry bullshit every time I call you out for something you did.”

  “I wouldn’t if I was guilty. Come on, Red, help me out.” Griff turned his imploring gaze her way. “Tell Wachawski I did not eat the last Tim Tam.”

  Erica looked from one man to the other. Corey sat shirtless on the living room floor with Griff behind him on the couch, working out the nagging kink in Corey’s shoulder. It still gave him grief, as did his right knee, but for the most part Corey had recovered remarkably well from his horrific accident. He’d even returned to the fire station, on a part-time basis at first. Last month, he’d been restored to full duties and it had put the bounce back in Corey’s step.

  And Griff had played a huge part in getting Corey into shape. He’d been watchful, encouraging, forceful and even downright pigheaded on the odd occasion Corey needed a kick up the rear to get him motivated again. That last task was the one he excelled at most.

  At the other extreme, Erica had to admit she had a tendency to take it easy on Corey. If it were up to her, she’d probably still be tucking him in bed and feeding him pudding like she
had when he’d first come home.

  Home. Their home. She’d rented out her place and moved in with Griff right after she’d had her mastectomy, a week before Corey was released from hospital into her and Griff’s care. Griff had needed the help with Corey. Besides, Erica couldn’t stand to be apart from either one of them for long.

  She loved them so much that it filled her heart to bursting point. But she wasn’t stupid. She was never going to admit that she’d eaten the last Tim Tam. “I’ve told you both before, I will not referee your little tiffs.”

  “Guys do not have tiffs,” Griff pointed out, affronted. “We take it outside and thump each other.”

  Corey said, “Bring it on, tough guy.”

  Griff pretended to consider it but eventually shook his head. “Nup. You still couldn’t take me. Not with this shoulder. Besides, I know what happened. You’re the chocoholic around here.”

  “Maybe so, but you’re a glutton.”

  “I’ll take selfish prick, but not glutton,” Griff retorted. “You should thank me for it. A while back when you and Erica were trying to out-martyr each other, it was my selfishness that got things back on track.”

  “You just keep telling yourself that, mate.”

  From his place on the living room floor, Corey sent Erica a secret smile. They both knew Griff was probably right, that without his prodding they might not have made it to this place, this wonderful position where they all meshed together in an unusual, sometimes frustrating, but always glorious tableau of impure domestic bliss.

  Listening to the two of them spar, watching the way Griff’s hands glided with easy familiarity over Corey’s shoulders, Erica marveled at how ridiculously happy she was. Once upon a time she’d thought she might not find a single man willing to take her on post-mastectomy. She’d wound up with two.

  It would be greedy in the extreme to wish for anything more, but Erica couldn’t help it. She did want more, and she wasn’t at all sure how Griff and Corey were going to react to her request.

  The sitcom on television lost whatever mild interest it had held for her when Griff reached down and massaged Corey’s pectoral muscles. He gave a nipple a playful tweak, and Corey laughed, their biscuit-related argument forgotten. Griff started nibbling a trail along Corey’s neck, his manner both mischievous and seductive.

  Seeing them together, the casual exchange of innate masculine strength, always provoked a sexual response in her. Griff knew it too, the scoundrel. He let his hands wander until they moved over the ridged muscles of Corey’s abdomen, kept hard by the hours of core strength exercises he did. Corey sighed, letting his eyes drift closed, and his head fall back against Griff’s chest. Griff tilted his head and kissed him, languorously, so Erica could see the erotic interplay of their twining tongues.

  In no time at all, she was scandalously wet. She shifted on the armchair, the leather creaking beneath her and drawing Griff’s attention. He paused in the act of kissing Corey to pin her with his laserlike gaze. “You want something, Red?”

  The confusion of mind-numbing arousal made Erica forget caution. The truth was out before she could pull the words back. “I want a baby.”

  In perfect unison, Griff and Corey stilled. They both stared at her, wide-eyed and clearly gobsmacked. Erica was more than a little stunned herself. She’d meant to bring the subject up carefully, at an appropriate time—not like this.

  Corey was the first to find his voice. “What did you say?”

  There was little point in trying to backpedal now. They wouldn’t let her anyway. “I’ve been discussing some of my other options with Dr. Singh, about the ovarian cancer. I don’t want to make the mistake of putting off the inevitable only to find my luck runs out before I act. I’ll need to have my ovaries removed at some point, in the next couple of years I should think. But before I do…” She trailed off with a shrug, hoping one of them would step in to help her out.

  When they both remained silent and stock-still, Erica began to worry she’d made a serious error in judgment, destroyed her perfect life with the mere suggestion that it could be even better.

  Swallowing her anxiety, Erica pushed on despite their silence. She’d promised herself months ago she’d never be backward in coming forward again. “I want to be pregnant, to have a baby and be a mother. Now might be my only chance.”

  Corey croaked, “Now?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “What about your genes, honey?” Griff asked gently. “I thought you were concerned about passing your problems on to your kids.”

  That was the part of this decision she’d struggled with the most. “I have to hope that in twenty or thirty years, my child will have better prospects than I have right now. That there may be a cure, or more palatable treatments available. If not…” Erica shrugged. “That’s okay too. My life’s pretty darn terrific. I wouldn’t change anything about it. So, I guess all I really need to know is if either one of you is ready to be a father.”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Corey and Griff glanced at each other.

  Griff asked dubiously, “You?”

  “Why not me?” Corey scowled.

  “You’re the youngest.”

  “So?”

  “So, maybe this is my only chance.”

  “Charlie Chaplain was a hundred and two and he had a kid.”

  “He was seventy something, and I don’t want to wait that long.”

  “What about me? You think because I’m only twenty-six I’m going to tire of this arrangement and go knock some other woman up?” Anger flared in Corey’s voice. “I’ve got news for you, this is it for me—you and Erica. I want to be an old man—Charlie Chaplin old, one hundred and freaking two—and still be arguing with you, and loving Erica. I have as much right to be this baby’s father as you do.”

  Erica watched the exchange, amusement mingling with her love for them. She should have anticipated they’d fight each other for the right to be her sperm donor. They bickered to the death about Tim Tams. A baby was bound to generate some heated debate.

  At length, Griff sighed and affectionately mussed Corey’s hair. They called a truce with their eyes before Griff transferred his gaze to Erica. “How do you feel about twins? We’d get an egg each.”

  Erica laughed, so relieved that tears leaked from her eyes. “I think that would be very difficult to arrange.”

  Corey said, “Bummer.”

  Wiping the moisture from her cheeks, Erica hopped out of the chair and walked toward Griff’s bedroom. They each had one but more often than not they were drawn to Griff’s by the easterly breezes and the king-sized bed.

  Stopping in the doorway, she cocked her hip and arched a brow at them. “Are you coming or do I need to buy a turkey baster?”

  The mad scramble they completed in order to follow her was comical. Erica giggled, feeling giddy not only because she was amused, but because she was utterly, dizzily happy. She started undoing the buttons of her blouse, turning to face Corey and Griff as they entered the room.

  “You know what I think?” she began. “I think that the way we share each other means we might never know who the guilty party is if I wind up pregnant.”

  Erica slipped the blouse from her shoulders, revealing her skimpy red lace bra. Her breasts might not be “real” but Corey and Griff certainly seemed to like looking at them, so Erica bought more fancy lingerie now than she ever had. With the reconstruction, she had opted to go a little smaller. It was more practical, and her new C cups fit into all manner of spunky little garments that she never would have gotten into before.

  In a strange way, she was prouder of her fake boobs than she ever had been of her natural ones. They were a symbol of her life-changing decision, of her determination to live.

  “Good God, baby.” Corey’s gaze remained riveted on her as she slipped out of her skirt, revealing the bra’s matching red lace panties. “Are those new?”

  “It’s shameful how much
money I spend on underwear these days.”

  “You can never spend too much on stuff like this.” Griff stepped toward her and rubbed the material of her knickers between his thumb and forefinger. “But I have to warn you, these aren’t going to last long. I’m so fucking hard for you I’m about to explode.”

  Capturing her mouth with his, Griff proved his statement with the brutal thrust of his tongue, the brash scrape of his teeth. At her other side, she felt Corey’s warmth surround her as he slowly caressed her body, awaiting his turn with her mouth.

  Yet when she drew away from Griff to offer herself, Corey placed a finger against her lips. “What are you saying, Erica? You don’t care which one of us does this?”

  “I’m saying you’re both doing it. My baby will have two fathers. If it’s not medically necessary, I don’t need to know who provided the biological material.”

  He shook his head in amazement. “There’s no one else like you, baby. We’re so lucky to have you.”

  Corey did kiss her then, a long lingering kiss that had Erica slipping readily into that dreamy state of arousal that only Corey, with his soft mobile lips and loving manner, could generate. Griff was compelling in his own way, a different way. Griff was—

  He thrust his hand inside her panties to cup her sodden folds.

  Griff was forceful.

  “I’m going to fuck this beautiful cunt so hard you’ll be seeing stars for a week.”

  And blunt to the point of crass. Overconfident, overbearing and stubborn. And yes, often selfish.

  Erica arched into his rough touch, loving every minute of the way he handled her. Loving everything about him.

  “Get into bed, baby.”

  Erica extracted herself from their embrace to do Corey’s bidding. She climbed onto the bed, facing them on her knees. Inch by tantalizing inch, she began to slip out of her panties. She smiled and licked her lips, astonished as always at the brazen female she’d become. “You know what I want first.”