Three Brothers: A Menage Romance

by Samantha Twinn

  Suddenly I’m nine years old, sitting in the backseat, Mom and I both singing “Give Me One Reason” at the top of our lungs, on our way to the beach for a mini vacation, where we built sandcastles and ate hot dogs and ice cream every day. Where we collected shells, poked at scary, dried seaweed, and got sunburns despite all the lotion she slathered on us both.

  I know life wasn’t easy for my mom. I could see that more and more clearly as I got older. I’m sure she had a lot of struggles, but she never let me see that. She made such a nice life for us, with so many happy memories… and now she’s gone.

  There’s no stopping my tears. I don’t even try anymore. I cry at the unfairness of it all, at the thought that I’ll never see her again, that I won’t have her around to ask for advice, for the fact that she lost her life when she was probably, finally, the happiest she’d ever been.

  I let it all out — again — with the hope that facing my grief head on, going through it, and letting it out might be good therapy.

  I am making progress, I think, as the tears start to wind down. I’ve definitely been less sad since the Nolan brothers brought me here. Some of me is coming back, but it feels like the sadness will always remain.

  I stash the CDs back where they were, and I’m getting ready to put the key in the ignition when a truck pulls in. It’s a pickup truck, not the landscaping truck, and when it stops, Reid gets out. It looks like he’s alone.

  I check my reflection in the rear view mirror. My eyes are rimmed with red and a little puffy, but I might be able to hide it if I paste on a smile. I step out of the car and call over to him. “Hi, Reid!”

  “Hey, April.” He was heading into the house but he changes direction and walks over to me. “Are you going out?”

  “No, I was just going to make sure the car was running okay.”

  “Mitchell’s had it out a few times to keep it in shape. In fact, I think he filled the gas tank the day after you came.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize,” I say.

  “He’s always on top of that kind of stuff,” Reid says. He holds my gaze for a beat too long and I see his face change when he realizes I've been crying. He doesn't say anything about it though, and I'm grateful.

  “What are you doing back?” I ask.

  “The job was on track so I decided to do office work instead. Catch up on billing.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “I don't know what I was thinking, though. It's too nice a day to be inside.” When I smile and nod agreement, he gestures to the car. “Do you want to take it out? Go for a ride?”

  I only hesitate for a moment. “Sure. I’ll grab my purse. Be right back.” I run inside, making a quick stop to splash cool water on my face and check my eyes in the mirror again. I’m tempted to redo my mascara — I’ve cried mine off, despite its waterproof claims — but putting on makeup before running out with Reid would feel strange, like it’s a date. Instead, I pull my sunglasses on when I join him outside.

  “You want to drive?” Reid asks.

  “You know, I’d better, to make sure I remember how. I’ve been riding buses and subways for the past four years.”

  Reid opens the car door for me. He’s wearing a tank top on this warm day, and I’m momentarily distracted by the bulky definition of his arms. The newly revealed muscles are every bit as appealing as they looked under his t-shirts. I get a flashback of the shirtless fantasies I’d had upon first meeting him and his brothers, and I shiver a little, despite the heat. “Please don’t tell me you drive as recklessly as you cook,” he says as I start to get in.

  I stop and glare up at him. “It was just a little smoke. Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

  “I only tease you because I like you,” he says. His smile is stunning and makes me wonder how many hearts he’s broken. “Don’t worry, driving is like riding a bike. You never forget.”

  “You hope,” I say as I settle in behind the wheel.

  I’d wanted to face my mom’s car alone, but as Reid climbs in on the passenger side, I’m suddenly beyond grateful that he’s here with me. Driving and crying are not a good mix, and Reid always lifts my spirits.

  I start the car and pull past his truck and toward the end of the long driveway. “Where are we headed?”

  “Hmmm, I don’t know,” Reid says. “Want to get a coffee? Or ice cream?”

  “Ice cream?” I say. “Either I’m a bad influence on your healthy eating habits, or you’ve secretly been looking for an excuse to indulge.”

  “I confess. I did sneak a few of your Oreos.”

  I throw my head back and laugh, the pleasure of it pushing away the sadness of driving Mom’s car.

  “Go to the left,” Reid says, gesturing, when I’ve stopped laughing.

  “Thank you for the cookies,” I say. “That was sweet of you.”

  “And partially selfish, you now know. But you’re welcome.”

  “Did you also… the flowers?” I feel uncomfortable asking, and it shows. Since Reid bought Oreos for me, I’d kind of assumed he left the flowers in my room, too, and I want to thank him if that’s the case, but asking him is awkward. Having the excuse of needing to keep my eyes on the road makes it a little easier.

  “Flowers?” His tone makes it immediately clear that he has no idea what I’m talking about.

  “Never mind,” I say, and a stop sign I’m approaching serves as a convenient way to change the subject. “Which way?”

  “Right.”

  The flowers must have been from Finn, and that gives me a funny feeling in my stomach. Do the flowers give more meaning to our almost-kiss?

  “Seems like you’re doing fine driving,” Reid says.

  “It feels good,” I say. “I’d forgotten how nice it was to be behind the wheel. And to not be crammed into public transportation next to some creepy guy.”

  “Why, thank you. I’m flattered.”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t creepy,” I say with a smile. “There’s just more room between the seats in this car than there is on the subway.”

  It feels really good to make him laugh.

  At the ice cream shop, a little building with windows where you walk up to order, we’re the only customers in sight. Reid puts his hand at the small of my back as we step forward, and keeps it there while we read the menu.

  His touch burns through my thin t-shirt, muddles my brain, and makes it extremely difficult to focus on the flavor selection.

  This isn’t typical brotherly behavior, is it?

  I’m reminded of his hand supporting me when we danced at our parents’ wedding. I slow danced with each of the brothers that day, Mitchell first, and it only made my “which one would I most want to kiss” game harder.

  Their dance styles helped me get to know them: Finn, sweet and sincere as we talked about school and family; Mitchell a quiet and confident lead as he moved us around the floor; and Reid, charmingly funny and smooth. Dancing with them had been a little bit of heaven and a little bit of torture all wrapped into one.

  “Cookies and cream?” Reid asks, apparently thinking about my Oreo habit.

  “You know it.” I'm relieved that he's saved me from having to try to make sense of the words on the menu. All of my brain function is currently devoted to trying to figure out why his hand is still resting firmly on my back.

  His touch is proprietary and protective. It's something a boyfriend would do, not a stepbrother.

  He finally removes his hand when he reaches for his wallet to pay, and I miss his touch as soon as it's gone.

  We sit across from each other at a picnic table and enjoy our cones. My mind is racing at first, wondering like I did with Finn’s kiss if I was misreading the situation.

  The guys didn't seem particularly flirtatious when I met them last year but now things are different. Maybe it has something to do with the loss of our parents. A yearning for contact and connection. Though considering how handsome and appealing they all are, I can't imagine they lack for femal
e companionship when they want it.

  “How is it?” Reid asks, gesturing to my cone.

  “Delicious.”

  “This is a much better way to spend the afternoon than doing invoices,” he says. “Thanks for taking me out.”

  I laugh. “Thank you for the ice cream. And thanks for coming out with me. I have to admit I was dreading driving the car.”

  Reid simply nods, his look solemn.

  When I'm near the end of my cone and he’s finished his, Reid says, “I'm glad you came to stay with us, April. We're all happier with you around.”

  I'm so surprised by his statement that I don't know how to respond. I would never have imagined that I've made anyone happier these past couple of months. Except maybe people who own stock in tissue companies.

  “Thank you,” I say finally. “I'm definitely happier here. You've all been so great.”

  Reid smiles and then looks thoughtful, but he doesn't say anything else as I finish. We sit for a while in companionable silence, watching cars go by, listening to a family who stops in, the clerk incredibly patient as the cute little kids take forever to decide on toppings.

  Life here seems peaceful and unhurried and I start to understand why my mom liked living in this town so much. I think I'm going to like it too. At least for a while.

  5

  More Than You Realize

  I'm not a morning person by nature, but after the initial shock of the early hour wears off, it actually feels good to have a purpose for the day. A place to go, people to help, money to earn. I realize I’m also looking forward to seeing Rita and Lucky again and spending time in the presence of their sunny personalities.

  The café opens at six, giving us half an hour to make coffee, set out napkins and silverware, and make other preparations. Once the sign is flipped to “open” the action is nonstop for nearly four hours. I find myself wondering if anyone in town cooks their own breakfast because it looks like they all come in for Lucky’s food.

  When Rita tells me to take a break, I find out what all the fuss is about when I dig into the morning’s special: banana bread French toast with chocolate chips.

  “How do you like it?” she asks.

  “Are you kidding me? I’ll work for free as long as you'll feed me.”

  Rita laughs. “Food is part of the deal already. Enjoy.”

  And I do.

  After my heavenly breakfast break, things are slower while we regroup and prepare for lunch. At eleven, I see a familiar face — two of them, actually. Mitchell and Reid, their cheeks ruddy from work and sun, come in and takes seats at the far end of the counter.

  Rita reaches them before I do. “I thought I might see you two today,” she says.

  “Hi Rita. Hey April,” they say when I approach.

  “How’s it going?” Reid asks.

  All three of them look to me for an answer.

  “Good. I mean, I have a lot to learn, but I haven't messed anything up too badly.”

  “You're doing great,” Rita says. “What can I get you?” she asks the guys.

  “I'll take care of them,” I tell her. I've been mirroring Rita all morning to learn the ropes, but I figure my stepbrothers are a good opportunity to practice working on my own.

  Rita smiles, gives a nod and heads off to greet a couple who have just settled at a window table.

  “Do you need menus?” I ask Reid and Mitchell.

  “I don't,” Mitchell says.

  “Me either,” says Reid.

  “So you know what you want?”

  “I'll have a club sandwich and a Coke,” Mitchell says.

  “Club sandwich and a Coke,” I repeat back. “Okay.”

  “You're not going to write things down?” Reid asks.

  “I think I can remember two orders between here and the kitchen,” I say.

  Reid’s eyebrows raise. “Well then, I'll have a grilled cheese. No, wait, maybe I'm more in the mood for meatloaf today.”

  “Coming right up.”

  I start to turn away when he calls me back. “On second thought, I'll have a cheeseburger, medium rare, with pickles, onions, and tomato.”

  “Okay.”

  “Cheddar cheese, please. Mayonnaise and ketchup on the side. You know what? Hold the bun. I'll go low carb today, but I would like an order of fries. Make that sweet potato fries, lightly salted, with Lucky’s spicy dipping sauce.”

  “Are you done?” I ask.

  “You didn't get my drink order yet. I'll have an Arnold Palmer, two-thirds tea and one-third lemonade. No sugar added. Easy on the ice.”

  I stare daggers at him, hand on my jutting hip.

  “Did you get all that? Sure you don't want to write it down, April?”

  I turn for the kitchen. A smile creeps onto my face, but I don't let Reid see it.

  Mitchell told me they usually come in to Lucky’s about once a week. It's nice to know they were thinking of me today, even if Reid is having fun being a pain in my ass.

  After putting in their orders and delivering their drinks, I fall in with Rita again and wait on a few tables with her. The lunch crowd is filling in fast, with more college students mixed in than there'd been at breakfast.

  As she's been doing all morning, Rita introduces me to people, though I notice she’s slightly less chatty with the lunch crowd. Several tables have small groups of people who seem to be in a hurry, probably needing to get back to their jobs.

  At one such table of two casually dressed professional types, Rita introduces me to the men, one middle-aged and the other in his mid-twenties. “April, I’d like you to meet two of our regulars. This is John and this is Ethan. They work at the bank across the street.”

  “Nice to meet you both,” I say, giving them a friendly smile that’s starting to grow just a little tired after such a busy morning filled with so many new names and faces.

  John nods, but the younger man, Ethan, repeats my name and gives me a very charming smile. I’m not feeling particularly attractive after all the hustle and bustle, but Ethan seems to see something he likes.

  He makes eye contact with me several times while John gives Rita his order. Until now, I hadn't thought of the café as a place to meet a man, but based on the crowds today, it seems like I'll be meeting everyone in town.

  I feel Ethan's eyes on me as I return to the kitchen. Mitchell and Reid’s orders are up.

  “Club sandwich,” I say sweetly, putting the plate in front of Mitchell. “And Chef’s surprise for you,” I say when I put a bowl in front of Reid.

  Mitchell laughs out loud.

  I told Lucky that Reid was giving me a hard time and asked him to make whatever he felt like for him. He outdid himself with some kind of creamy, chunky brown chowder-looking concoction. It doesn’t look all that appetizing, but it actually smells delicious.

  Reid looks down at the bowl then back at me, staring for a moment before his lips crack into his trademark grin.

  “Well played,” is all he says before he picks up his spoon and digs in.

  “Can I get you anything else?” I say in my sweetest voice, fluttering my eyelashes.

  Reid starts to say something but Mitchell cuts him off. “We’re good, April. Thanks.” He gives me a warm smile before returning to his lunch.

  Later, when Mitchell and Reid have gone, Finn comes in with two friends. Rita takes their order but I stop by their booth, and Finn introduces me to his friends who are sitting across from him and are apparently a couple.

  “How’s your first day going?”

  “Good,” I say. “Do you come in here often?”

  “Once or twice a week. Thought I'd check on you today.”

  “Your brothers were in earlier.”

  He nods in response. I sneak glances at Finn while I attend to other tables. He and his friends talk and sometimes laugh, but compared to them, he seems subdued. Several times he catches me looking, or maybe I catch him looking at me.

  When they're gone, and the lunch rush is winding
down, Rita comes up behind me while I'm getting sodas for a table.

  “Well, you made it! Your first day is done.”

  “Oh, is it two already?”

  “Close enough.”

  “It went by fast,” I say.

  “It usually does.” Rita takes the drinks from me and puts them on a tray. “It was nice to see your family come in and check in you today.”

  My family. Even though I'm living with my stepbrothers, I don't think of them as family. In a way, the thought warms me and makes me feel less alone, but it also makes me feel uncomfortable. Unless I'm completely misreading them, Finn and Reid seem to flirt. I don't think they see me as a sister, at least not all of the time.

  “Your mom and Michael would've liked knowing that the four of you were supporting one another, and taking care of each other.”

  “I don't think I'm taking care of them at all, but at least I'll be able to contribute to expenses now that I'm working,” I say.

  “I'll bet you’re helping them more than you realize,” Rita says with a warm smile. She pats my shoulder and gives it a small squeeze before she picks up the tray. “See you tomorrow, bright and early.”

  6

  Looking for Someone

  Have you ever had a completely inappropriate dream about someone in your life? A dream that was enjoyable while you were in it, but that left you feeling embarrassed and incredibly uncomfortable after you woke up?

  It was probably the hectic nature of my first day of work, of being introduced to so many strangers whose names I struggled to learn, that prompted mine. In it, I was walking through a tight crowd of people in a dark area. At times I thought it was the city, because many of the people were wearing suits and professional clothing, but then I started to pass people I'd met at Lucky’s Café.

  Faces would appear from the dark and then they would pass by. The retirees, the moms, the workmen. Ethan the banker appeared, smiled, and trailed a hand along my arm as he passed by, eliciting a shiver. Eventually Lucky passed me, and then Rita.