by Tia Siren
“Got it. See ya,” I said, and then hung up.
Getting ready took a little longer than usual. Mainly, because I had this strange premonition that I would see either Jake or Mark at the market. With that in mind, I tried picking sexy yet disguise-worthy clothes. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to see either of them or not.
So, it was in oversize aviators and a black wrap cardigan that I met Karly.
“What—are you pregnant?” she asked, in a horrified whisper when she saw me.
“No,” I said, glaring at her, “I just don’t want to be recognized.”
“Did they fire you?” she asked, taking on a sympathetic tone.
“No!” I said, “Can we talk about something else for now, please? I’ll spill later.”
Karly giggled, whacking me on the arm.
“I was just kidding, silly. The hot docs would never fire you—they’re in lo-o-ove with you.”
I stopped walking, crossing my arms across my chest.
“I mean it, Kar.”
She waved her hand and strode into a store.
“Yes, yes, I heard you loud and clear.”
This first shop was a literal warehouse of vintage clothes, with flapper-era dresses, cowboy-esque vests and British-style boots lining the walls top to bottom. The owner was a woman who was pretty vintage-looking herself, with a white mane of flowing hair and a distant smile.
“Try on whatever you like,” she said, “There’s a changing room in the back.”
What the poor woman didn’t realize, was that this was the equivalent of a free-for-all to shopaholics like Karly and I, who squeezed twenty items each into the small room. It was in this chaos—as we were accidently banging and cursing each other—that we tried on our mismatched finds.
“You look like a time travel machine from the 60s vomited you out,” she declared.
I looked down nervously at the tie-dye dress I had on, studying my reflection in the mirror.
“Is it really that bad?”
“Nah,” Karly said, with a little laugh, “It’s time travel in a good way.”
I did a little twirl and grinned at my reflection. Maybe I could wear this on a date with...
“Later, I really need your advice, Kar,” I said.
“For sure,” she replied.
She put her hand in the shape of a gun as she shook her booty, watching with satisfaction as her rose fringed vest danced along.
I tried on the rest of the clothes I’d chosen with a single-minded speed. No matter how much I pretended I needed shopping to distract me, what I really needed was Karly’s advice. So, I quickly threw the various shirts, crop tops, vests and dresses on and off, even trying on some of Karly’s rejected ones as I waited. In the end, I’d chosen my 60s time travel machine dress and Karly had chosen two skirts, two tops and a nice little purse.
“I have a problem,” she said, with a sigh, as we made our way to the cash register.
“No,” I told her, shaking my head sadly, “I have a problem.”
And, about half an hour later, I told her just what it was. We were seated on the patio of Byland Garden, with cute mini-croissants, raspberry jam and orange pekoe tea.
“So,” I said, “about Mark and Jake—”
“You mean the hot docs,” Karly said, correcting me with a smile.
“Yeah, whatever. So I took your advice about Jake—it was what I wanted to do anyway.”
Karly clapped her hands together.
“Eee! So, how was it? Good or,” she leaned in, raising a perfectly plucked brow, “great?”
“It was great,” I said, smiling genuinely, “Way better than I’d even expected. He was so gentle and skillful. It was all very sensual.” Leaning in, I lowered my voice to a whisper, “We did it by the Hollywood Sign.”
“What? Why?! NO WAY!” Karly cried.
“Shhhh!” I told her.
Smiling, she lowered her voice.
“Okay, so what’s the problem then?”
“Well, now they both like me.”
“And?”
“I like both of them.”
Karly chewed on the end of a cinnamon stir stick.
“Hm. Okay, I can see how that could be a bit troublesome.”
“A bit troublesome?” I said, eyeing her incredulously, “They were fighting over me in the parking lot a few days ago. There was actual shoving involved.”
“Okay, okay,” Karly said. “That does sound like a problem. But did you talk to them about it?”
“Of course I did,” I said, “I had us all go out for ice cream.”
“And?”
“And it couldn’t have gone much worse. These two guys—best friends and business partners before I showed up—they would hardly look at each other.” My voice wavered now, “You don’t understand, Kar. When I met them, they had been best friends for years—the kind of best friends where you do everything together. The atmosphere at work was really fun and carefree. And now? Now whenever they’re both in the room, the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I feel like I’ve ruined their friendship—and my work situation, too.”
“Oh, come on now, Brooke,” Karly said, “They would never fire you.”
“Maybe not,” I said, “But it would be just as bad to have to work in a place where one or both of my employers hate me, or each other. I can’t work like that—it’s just too tense and uncomfortable.”
Karly nodded thoughtfully, now gnawing on her heavily glossed lower lip.
“Yeah, I can see why you’re so stressed.”
She sipped some more tea, eyeing me.
“And you really like both of them, completely equally?”
“For the millionth time—yes!”
“Whoa there, cowgirl,” Karly said, holding up both of her hands.
Ripping off a big bite of my croissant, I sighed, “It just feels like I’ve been asked that like a hundred times—by Mark and Jake though, not you. I’m sorry.”
Karly, however, barely heard me, and appeared to be deep in thought. When she finally lifted her head to meet my eye, she was smiling.
“Well, it sounds like there’s only one thing to do.”
“Oh? What?” I asked, with a tingle of excitement at the assurance in her voice.
“Have you heard of a throuple?” Karly asked.
“Huh?” I said.
“Yeah, a throuple,” Karly said, nodding her head vigorously, “It’s like a couple—but with three people. I read about them in a Cosmo article. Apparently, it’s a real thing—and there are some people it has actually worked for.”
I eyed her suspiciously.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” she said, with another nod, “I’ll send you the link.”
“I don’t know,” I said, “That sounds pretty weird.”
“Sex before marriage used to be pretty weird like fifty years ago,” Karly pointed out with a snort, “And now look at us heathens.”
“True,” I said, “Still, the idea seems so—”
“Weird? Yeah, you already said that,” Karly said.
“Okay,” I said, with a rueful smile, “But weird or not, and whether I could actually do it or not is just part of the equation. The real part of the equation—”
“Is whether the hot docs will go for it!”
“Stop calling them that,” I scolded her, “But yeah, basically. Both of them seemed pretty adamant that I make a choice.”
“Well,” Karly said, with a dismissive wave, “Sounds to me like it’s either they both get you or neither does. So if they’re really as crazy about you as it sounds like, you just may have a chance.”
I shook my head, sipping the last of my tea.
“Yeah, a chance to royally piss both of them off.”
Karly raised her tea glass.
“You’ll never know what you can do, until you try,” she said, in an exaggerated melodramatic voice.
“Oh shut up,” I said, flicking her cup with my finger,
“You’re just pleased as punch because that banker and you are official, aren’t you?”
Karly smiled slyly at me, then grinned outright.
“How’d you know?”
“Come on Kar,” I said, grinning and high-fiving her, “I’m your best friend. I even know when you’re on your period.”
“Yeah, because I bitch to you all week about it,” Karly said, with a giggle.
“No. Because you’re even bitchier than usual,” I said sweetly.
“Me? You’re the bitch around here,” she said.
“On no, you’re a world class bitch!” I replied, sticking my tongue at her.
An older couple a few tables down shot us a scandalized look.
Karly and I broke into giggles. She mouthed ‘bitch’ at me, while I coughed, rapidly giving her the finger as I did so.
Once we were finished, however, as Karly blabbed on about Dmitry, her hot fun banker, my heart began to hurt. That time just then, us having our ‘bitch’ fight, had reminded me of the old days. The good old days, when I was single and sexless, or just dating. The good old days, when things were easy and simple, when I wasn’t questioning my sanity or my heart every three minutes. The good old days, when I still thought I might stand a chance of finding love and having it work out.
Later that night at home, I looked at the article Karly had sent me, ‘Throuple Brings Love to New Heights.’ At first, I only scanned it, not expecting to take the surprisingly long thing seriously. But after a minute, I found myself reading the whole article—twice. It described a seemingly normal couple—Emma and Todd—except for the fact that David was also in the mix. Despite initially being uncertain about the proposition, Todd had come to accept and enjoy David’s company—and his place in Emma’s bed. The article detailed their fairly mundane yet enjoyable lives—the usual home life chores and travelling. It even suggested that this ‘throuple’ was happier because of their unusual set-up.
“I find that one picks up the slack where the other is lacking,” Emma gushed, “I mean, this way I don’t have to put so much pressure on one man to meet my needs.”
After I’d turned off my phone, parts of the article and lines replayed in my head, the mundane description of their household chores, the interesting and different date nights Emma went on with each. She had cited the preliminary trial period as difficult, since Todd and David had been virtual strangers before she had met David through a poetry course. That really made me think, since Jake and Mark were friends already, best friends, so how hard could it be? Masculine sense of ownership aside, they would have to see that this was the best option for all of us.
As I lay in bed and stared at my dark ceiling, the same thought kept swirling through my head. I really, really hope this works out.
Chapter 19
Jake
“You want to what?” I asked.
Brooke looked at me with a calm, easy expression, as if what she was suggesting wasn’t the craziest thing I’d heard all month, or maybe ever.
And to think that it had all started off so well. I’d been downright ecstatic when Brooke had asked me to lunch.
“We could even leave a bit earlier if you want,” I’d said, with a wink.
But she’d assured me that the usual time was fine with a wariness about her, and I’d been left with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Once we’d arrived at the Marble Room, my instincts had been proved correct, though it hadn’t happened all at once.
“So,” I’d said, taking her hand, “Did you ask me here because you—”
She had sighed, and my heart fell to the pit of my chest. Her face looked like she was trying to find the words to break the news to me gently.
“Chose me?” I finally said, with a hopeful smile.
“Well, yes,” she said, “And no.”
“What do you mean?” I’d asked in a cold voice.
She’d taken a deep breath, and I had too.
Okay, here it comes.
“I can’t decide between you two, Jake,” she confessed, grabbing my other hand. “I’m sure you can guess why—you’re both quite remarkable in your own way.”
I tried pulling my hand away, but she wouldn’t quite let me.
“So, once again Brooke,” I said, “What are you saying?”
“What I’m saying is that this is nice, we are nice together. I don’t want to lose that, do you?”
When I didn’t respond, she’d soldiered on. “What I’m saying is—why can’t we all be together? My friend Karly showed me this article about what’s called a ‘throuple.’ Now, I know it sounds crazy at first, but hear me out. It’s like a couple—with three people. I want us to be a throuple, Jake.
I gaped at her. My heart hadn’t just settled in my chest, it had fallen to the floor in shock.
“You want to what?”
“I want to be with both of you,” she said, smiling nervously, “I want all of us to be together. You and Mark wouldn’t have to do anything together, if that’s what you’re afraid of. All you’d have to do is what you’ve been doing now—be with me, make me happy. Just the way you have been.”
With a gentle smile, she squeezed my hand again. I ripped it away.
“I don’t know about this,” I said, in a low hurt voice, “This has been bothering me like crazy, and I’ve been scared to death of losing you. But I don’t know if I could do that—if it’d be worth it.”
Brooke eyed me, as if noticing my bloodshot eyes with their dark circles for the first time. She lowered her head with guilt.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, “I wish it wasn’t like this. I never thought something like this would happen to me.”
“Neither did I,” I said softly, “Neither did I.”
“I told you first because I’ve found that you’re a bit more sensitive,” she said, lifting her hand to stroke my cheek.
I closed my eyes. God, her touch felt so good, so right. And yet, it wasn’t. I cleared my throat.
“Well, you certainly have wounded my poor ego.”
“I am sorry,” she said again.
I shook my head.
“Don’t be. It’s always best to be honest, and that’s exactly what you’ve been with me.”
For the rest of the meal, I made sure things were like before. I was adorably romantic. I airplaned little fingerling potatoes into Brooke’s mouth, and wiped stray sauce off her lips. Under the table, we played footsie. And then, once the bill came, I insisted on paying, taking her hand as it reached for the bill and kissing it. Once we were outside, walking back, she gave me a grateful kiss on the cheek.
“That was wonderful, Jake. Does it mean you’ve agreed to what I proposed?”
I closed my eyes as pain welled up inside of me.
“To tell the truth, I was hoping all that would change your mind,” I admitted, “So, you’re really serious about this throuple thing?”
She nodded, reaching for my hand, which I wouldn’t give her.
“I am,” she said.
“Okay,” I said.
Now, my voice was hard and cold. I wanted to go back to the office—no, I wanted to go home. To my penthouse apartment—alone.
“I don’t want to say no outright,” I said, “Because as insane as it sounds, I should give it some serious consideration—you are too amazing to pass up on a split-second decision. But I can tell you that me agreeing, or Mark for that matter, is really unlikely. I don’t know about him, but for me, seeing you with another man like that would tear me up. And to have it be my best friend, I just don’t know.”
By now, we’d reached the towering high-rise that housed the clinic and surgery suite.
“Just please at least think about it,” she urged me with another squeeze of my hand, “I think that you’re too amazing to pass up on, too.”
I smiled thinly. I wasn’t quite sure whether to believe her this time.
Back in the office, Mark was storming around when we came back.
“Either of you
know what happened to my pen?” he demanded.
“Your pen?” I asked blankly.
“Yes, my pen!” he snapped, “While you two were on your romantic little date, some of us were trying to get some work done.”
“Our ‘date’ wasn’t exactly what you thought,” I snapped back, also annoyed.
Why did Brooke want to be with Mark and his over-the-top moodiness anyway? Couldn’t she see how he was always taking things out on us?
“What do you mean?” Mark said.
Brooke nudged me.
“I want to tell him myself,” she said, in an undertone.
“What do you mean?” Mark repeated, louder this time.
“Forget it,” I said, striding away, “And no, I don’t know where your stupid pen is.”
It turned out that Deidre had his precious pen. Although it took him a good hour of storming around to finally locate it on her desk with all the other pens.
“Do you think I should’ve told Mark first?” Brooke asked, after he’d stormed past us toward the bathroom, with no warning whatsoever.
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, “Though I guess if you had, I’d be moping around now. So you’d either have a mopey me or a grumpy him—either way you’d lose.”
She let out a musical laugh.
“Yeah, I guess I would.”
We were in the office now, just us. The door was closed and we were in between consultations. She was sitting on the chair next to me, looking at me with her alert hazel eyes and shy smile. God, how I wanted to kiss her.
“Why don’t you just tell him now?” I asked.
She shook her head, frowning.
“You really think I should break it to him as a passing comment?”
I shook my head, remembering how it had felt—like the ground was falling out from under my feet.
“No, you’re right—I think it’s the kind of thing that requires a chair and some food.”
She smiled, then sighed.
“Yeah, exactly. And he already told me he had dinner plans—so I guess it’s lunch tomorrow.”
“He has no dinner plans,” I said, “Mark just visits his grandma Monday night. Usually it’s later at night, but sometimes he does it right after work.”