Bedfellows

by Lola Leighton

  I wiped my hands on my napkin and let out a sigh. “It’s the guys. Don’t get me wrong, things are great. Will and Sullivan are still as sweet and loving as ever, the sex is amazing, I’m never bored…”

  “But?” One well-sculpted eyebrow darted up.

  “But something is just…off. Lately, I’ve had this feeling when I’m with them, when I watch them interact. They’ve been best friends for practically their whole lives, so of course that means they’re close. But lately, I’ve started to think that they might have more feelings for each other than they’re letting on…or even than they know or are willing to admit.”

  Tyler’s eyes shot up to his hairline. “What are we talking here? You think they could be sexually attracted to each other?”

  I helped myself to another chip piled with guacamole to avoid saying anything incriminating and instead nodded.

  Tyler pursed his lips. “Hmm. I don’t know, babe, it might not be a good idea to rock the boat. If you say something, they could get pissed off—guys don’t like you questioning their sexual orientation—as I’ve learned first-hand.”

  I shook my head and swallowed the bite of food. “I don’t think they’d be mad at me for bringing it up.” I thought back to my conversation with Sullivan where he freely admitted he’d had sexual experiences with guys in his younger years.

  “Still, I don’t think it’s a good idea. On the other end of the spectrum, they could decide you’re right and fall madly in love with each other and leave you by the wayside. It might turn out that women—and now you—have been a crutch for them this whole time. And if you help them heal, they might not need that crutch—need you—anymore.”

  My chest tightened. I hadn’t ever considered that possibility. “If it came to that, I guess my sacrifice would be my way of showing my true love for them. And if that were to happen, as much as it would kill me, I know that it would be the right thing to do. I want happiness for Will and Sullivan more than I want it for myself.”

  Tears welled in my eyes as I spoke. I tried my best to keep them in, but when I looked at Tyler, the look on his face was so tender that one lone tear slipped down my cheek. I quickly dabbed it away with a napkin.

  “Oh, honey. Come here.”

  He held out his arms and pulled me in for a hug. I let myself cry for a bit, allowing the full weight of what I’d just shared hit me. Will and Sullivan’s happiness needed to come before my own, that much I was sure of.

  When I pulled away, Tyler placed his hands on my shoulders. “If that’s how you feel, then yes, you need to say something. But be gentle. Big, strong men like Will and Sullivan don’t like having their masculinity questioned.”

  I nodded, dabbing at the corners of my eyes with my fingertips. Gentle. Of course, I could do that. All I needed to do was sit them down for a serious talk. It wouldn’t be easy—not in the slightest. But after discussing it with Tyler and knowing it’d been weighing on my mind for days on end, it was clear. The Talk needed to happen. Not just for my own sanity and peace of mind. But for Will and Sullivan’s. I wanted to look at the positives that could come from this. There would be positives, right?

  Tyler and I started walking back to the salon, stomachs full and minds clear. While I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to The Talk, deciding to go through with it was giving me a newfound sense of purpose and direction. I felt like I was ready to take on the rest of my day.

  Before we reached the salon, my phone started ringing. Pulling it out of my purse, I checked the screen. It was my mom. I gave Tyler an apologetic look, but he just shrugged.

  “Answer it. Your next client won’t be here for another twenty.”

  I nodded, mouthing a thank you as I pressed the accept button.

  “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

  “Hi, sweetheart. I’m doing well, what about you?”

  “I’m good. What’s up?”

  “Well, I was just calling to invite you and your …” Awkward pause. “Um, Sullivan and Will home for Thanksgiving.”

  I stopped in my tracks. Not exactly what I was expecting this call to be about.

  “Are you sure? You want the three of us to be there? What about Dad?”

  “You just leave your father to me. I’m missing my best girl and you’re long overdue for a visit.”

  I sighed. She had a point. But already my stomach was churning. “Okay, sure, why not? I’ll talk to the guys. I’d love to come home for Thanksgiving. It might be a good thing.”

  “That’s the spirit. I can’t wait to see you. And maybe I can teach Sullivan a thing or two about roasting the perfect Thanksgiving turkey.”

  We both laughed. My mother was making jokes about one of my ménage boyfriends? Not really something I ever thought would happen. Okay, then.

  The two of us chatted some more, catching up with small talk before I had to go get ready for my next client. Once I hung up, I walked into the salon, a dumbfounded look on my face.

  “How’s your mama doing?” Tyler asked, sweeping up the last few bits of hair from his station.

  “You’ll never believe what just happened.”

  Tyler immediately stopped sweeping and his eyes snapped up to mine. “Spill.”

  I relayed the whole conversation to him, from my mom’s invitation to her joke about cooking with Sullivan. And Tyler stood there, in disbelief.

  “Is this a trap? It feels kind of like a trap.” My heart was racing as a thousand different worries about the whole situation went speeding through my mind.

  “Hon, who the hell knows? But if it seems like even one of your parents is on board with your threesome lifestyle, I say you do everything in your power to keep that good mojo going.”

  He was right. The fact that my mom was even a little more open to my situation meant that my dad might be close to accepting it, too. The three of us had to show up to Thanksgiving, as loving and normal as ever, to show my family that this could work.

  The only thing left to do was to convince Will and Sullivan to come with me to visit my gun-toting, ex-military, ultra-traditional father.

  Piece of frickin’ cake.

  I guess our Talk would just have to wait.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Sullivan

  From the moment we walked through the door, I could feel the tension in the air. We’d landed in Texas an hour ago, and rented a car for the drive to Adrienne’s parents’ house out in the country. It was a sprawling, one-story, ranch-style home with a metal roof and low, wooden fencing surrounding the vast property where a couple of dogs and chickens roamed freely. It was peaceful and serene. It was everything that none of us were feeling right now.

  But now, standing in the foyer, my insides felt like they were being twisted by a fork, because standing across from us was Adrienne’s father.

  He was a tall man, with a silver crew cut and piercing blue eyes. Adrienne had warned us about the most important things: ex-military, gun enthusiast, ultra-traditional values. But even if she hadn’t warned us, I would gather all that in an instant. His expression was stern as he looked between Will and me. But despite the grim, steely look in his eyes, he embraced Adrienne with open arms, clearly overjoyed to see her.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he told her, voice low. Betsey plastered on a tense smile and hugged Adrienne again.

  Once they released her, Adrienne stepped back, and stood in between Will and me once again.

  “Daddy, this is Sullivan. Sullivan, this is my father, Noah.” She looked at me, meeting my eyes just briefly before a pink blush colored her cheeks. “And this is Will.”

  I wanted to take her hand, to reach over and touch her in some way, wanted to comfort her and promise that everything would okay. But the truth was, I had no idea if this would all turn out okay. Adrienne valued her family above all else, and that included her family’s opinion of the man, or in this case, men she was dating.

  Adrienne fidgeted nervously between us and I reached one hand out toward her father. “Pleas
ed to meet you, sir. Thank you for having us in your home.”

  He grunted something that I wasn’t sure were actual words, but returned my handshake with a firm grip.

  He and Will exchanged a handshake next. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Edmonds. You’ve raised a wonderful daughter,” Will said, his voice firm, and not nearly as nervous-sounding as mine.

  Did he know something I didn’t? Why was he so relaxed about this whole thing?

  Betsey and Adrienne’s eyes had flitted nervously between the three of us men, clearly worried about what his response to us would be. But after giving us both the once-over, Noah had nodded, his mouth in a thin, taut line, and retreated to what looked like a man cave around the corner from the living room.

  I let out a deep breath and followed Adrienne and Betsey farther into the house.

  Okay then.

  In my mind, Thanksgiving was supposed to be about family coming together, people laughing and cooking together, each going around the table and saying what they were thankful for, at least that’s the way I’d seen it portrayed in the movies.

  Family holidays were something Will and I missed out on growing up. Sure, the local church came by the group home every year with some cold turkey and mashed potatoes, but even then, we knew it wasn’t the real thing. But judging by the tense, awkward way Adrienne’s parents couldn’t even really look us fully in the eye, something told me our first family Thanksgiving was about to be more authentic than I realized—awkward family tension and all.

  As Betsey gave us a tour of the house, the contractor in me couldn’t help but take in every detail with a careful, attentive eye. You can learn a lot about a person based on their home, and I could tell Will and I had a lot to learn. Fast.

  Antique guns hanging in a cabinet, animal heads mounted on the walls … I wasn’t sure why I was also expecting to find a bomb shelter stocked with years’ worth of food and supplies. Or maybe I was wishing I’d walk in on a home-distillery brewing up their own moonshine, because Lord knows I needed a strong drink right about now surrounded by guns and dead animals mounted to walls.

  “This is Adrienne’s room,” Betsey said, opening the door to a large bedroom with pale pink walls and cheerleading trophies lined up across the top shelves. “Or at least it was. When she moved out, I couldn’t bear to change very much of it. I guess part of me was always hoping she’d move right back in.” Betsey let out a little laugh.

  “Mom,” Adrienne muttered, shaking her head with embarrassment. She crossed her arms as she walked slowly through her old room, her fingertips lingering on her old, fluffy pink comforter.

  “It suits you,” Will said, a small grin forming on his face.

  “How long until the pink takes over our place, do you think?” I chimed in.

  “Oh, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already,” Betsey teased, looping her arm through Adrienne’s. Adrienne smiled and shook her head again.

  “I’m used to the guys ganging up on me, but Mom, you, too? Two I can handle, but three is too much.”

  Will and I laughed, but the joke hit too close to home for Betsey. She stayed silent, unable to hide the grimace passing over her face. She patted Adrienne’s hand before letting go of her arm and walking out of the bedroom.

  Will followed close behind Betsey, ready to ask distracting questions about the shiplap above the fireplace, while I hung back to check on Adrienne, whose face looked like it was on the verge of crumbling.

  “Hey, baby, it’s alright. Your joke just caught her off guard. She’ll come around. They both will.”

  Adrienne sighed, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked up at me.

  “But my dad has barely said two words to you guys since you got here. He didn’t even join us for the tour.”

  “He’s busy.” I shrugged, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “Cleaning his guns, maybe.”

  Adrienne laughed, playfully elbowing me in the ribs.

  “No.” She smiled, taking my hand and leading me out of the room. “Gun cleaning day is Sunday.”

  After we finished the tour, Betsey led us into the living room to meet Adrienne’s brother who had just arrived.

  Adrienne threw her arms around his neck, and then nudged him forward to come and meet me and Will.

  All I knew was that his name was Finn, and he was a few years younger than Adrienne and was just finishing college. The kid was massive—built like his father with broad shoulders and a trim waist. His face lit up in a smile as he shook Will’s hand and mine.

  “Good to meet you guys.”

  “You, too,” Will offered.

  “If you guys are interested, after dinner, I’ve organized a game of flag football with a couple of buddies.”

  Adrienne laughed. “Oh, no, you don’t. When Finn says flag football and a couple of buddies, what he means is his college buddies who are all NFL hopefuls and full-contact until someone’s bleeding.”

  “Or has a broken bone,” Betsey supplied.

  Finn rolled his eyes. “That happened one time, Mom. And it was a jammed finger. It wasn’t broken.”

  “Sounds like fun.” I grinned.

  “Count us in,” Will added.

  Adrienne let out a little sigh beside us and put her hand on her hip.

  “Do you play for the university?” I asked.

  Finn nodded and his face lit up. He spoke about his team’s stats and the big game they were getting ready for next. It was obvious football meant a lot to him.

  “Didn’t Adrienne tell you? Finn’s an excellent ball player. He’s been invited to the league’s pro day where scouts will look at him to play professionally.”

  My gaze darted to Adrienne, eyes wide. Her little brother might become a professional football player?

  “That’s incredible,” I offered to Finn. “Congrats, man.”

  Adrienne only shrugged. “I don’t know anything about football.”

  Her brother regarded the three of us together with an amused expression, like all of this was funny to him.

  Will turned to Adrienne’s mom. “Can we help you with anything in the kitchen, Betsey?”

  She shook her head. “Everything’s ready. Let’s head into the dining room.”

  She called around the corner for Adrienne’s father, who’d been avoiding us on the other side of the house since we arrived.

  Mr. Edmonds sat at the head of the table, while Betsey sat at the other end. Finn and Adrienne sat at one side of the table, and Will and I sat across from them. After a short prayer, Mr. Edmonds began to carve the bird, and he didn’t hesitate to start grilling me and Will.

  “So, boys, Betsey tells me you two had a hard go of it growing up. In the foster care system, was it?” He didn’t look at us as he spoke, but somehow his stare at the turkey while he ran the knife through it felt intentional.

  “It was a group home, sir,” Will replied. He kept his eyes trained on me as he spoke. It was a connection we shared, and one we didn’t particularly like talking about.

  “Orphans, right. So, family values weren’t a large part of your upbringing.”

  Damn. That stung. Will and I paused, a silent moment of restraint passing between us.

  “The nuns did their best,” I said shortly.

  “I see. And was it the nuns who taught you to share one woman between yourselves like a couple of wild animals fighting over a carcass?”

  Fuck. I clenched my jaw, careful to keep the first thing that popped into my head from coming out of my mouth. We were there to be civil, to persuade Adrienne’s parents that Will and I were the best men for her—and that there was nothing wrong with us coming as a package deal.

  But right now? It was taking all the restraint in the world from telling him to fuck off and mind his business.

  Across the table, Adrienne stiffened. Her eyebrows knitted together as she watched her father pass the plate of cut meat over to Finn.

  “Respectfully, sir, that’s not the kind of relationship we have with your daughter,�
�� I said, setting down the bowl of mashed potatoes that had been passed to me. I kept my voice level and calm. There was still hope for turning this around.

  But Mr. Edmonds only chuckled—a humorless sound that came out flat. “You don’t have a relationship with my daughter. I don’t even know what to call this stupid little stunt you’re pulling here, Adrienne, but it’s over.” Adrienne pressed her palms against the table. “Daddy…”

  “Sir, if you’d allow us to explain—” Will started, but Mr. Edmonds cut him off.

  “I don’t want you to explain, I don’t want to know anything more about it. There is nothing more ridiculous than the idea of my one and only daughter being shared between two men like she’s the last woman alive on Earth. It’s disgusting and immoral and I won’t stand for it. And you’re living with them now? Honestly, Addy, after all your mother and I have done for you, after all the ways we’ve supported you, this is how you repay us?”

  Adrienne’s face crumpled with each word. It broke my heart to see her so upset by her father’s refusal to understand, but more than anything, it was pissing me off. I could feel Will’s body tensing in his chair next to me, and I could tell that Will was having trouble controlling his anger, too. Finn sat rigidly and quietly across the table.

  “Noah, please,” Betsey whispered from across the table, but he simply raised his hand to silence her and continued.

  “She’s our daughter, Betsey. And I won’t let her be passed around between them like some floozy. It’s not natural. It’s not right.”

  That was the final straw. My skin boiling, I couldn’t stop myself—or Will—from what happened next.

  “Noah, I don’t know what you think is happening between your daughter and us, but I can assure you that it’s nowhere near as ‘unnatural’ or ‘wrong’ as you think,” I said, unable to keep the anger out of my voice.

  “We love her,” Will added, slamming his palm down on the table.