Three Brothers: A Menage Romance

by Samantha Twinn

  My body and my heart refuse to believe logic.

  I fill out more applications, have lunch with Christine, and generally try to keep myself busy. At night I crash on Christine’s couch and think about what to do next. So far my plan consists of hoping that Christine’s absent roommate, Ella, will decide to move out. If that doesn’t seem likely, I’ll need to find a new roommate, because even with a good job, I can’t afford a place on my own. At least not a place where I’d feel safe living.

  Mid-afternoon on Friday, as I’m walking to the park, my phone buzzes with an unexpected caller: Rita Marconi. I answer, but when the street noises are too loud for me to be able to hear her, I duck into a clothing store to continue the call.

  “How are you, Rita? Is everything okay?”

  “That’s what I’m calling to ask you, April. Is everything okay?” she says.

  “Sure. Why?” I ask. There’s purpose in her voice; this doesn’t sound like a social call.

  “Well, I got a call from a Greek restaurant this morning, asking for a reference for you. I thought you were moving back to the city for a marketing job.”

  At first I only told the job story to Mitchell, Reid, and Finn, but on my last day at Lucky’s, Rita asked me more about my plans, so I gave her the same story. This is why it’s not good to tell lies. They come back to you.

  “I was… I am,” I say. “That hasn’t come through yet, and a girl’s gotta work.” She’s silent for a moment. I step out of the way of a mom pushing a double-wide stroller around the clothing racks.

  “Well, I just wanted to tell you that we’ll always have a job open here for you if you ever want to come back.”

  “That’s nice of you, Rita. I really appreciate it.” She’s silent again and I glance at my phone’s screen to make sure we’re still connected.

  “The guys were in yesterday,” she says finally. Now it’s my turn to be silent. “They looked pretty down in the dumps. They really liked having you here with them.”

  I still don’t know what to say, but Rita continues without waiting for me to contribute to the conversation. “You know, your mom had always hoped you would be good friends with all of them. In fact, she once said that if you all lived closer, she could see you dating one of them.”

  “What?” I say, almost not sure I heard her right.

  Rita chuckles. “They’re nice-looking men. You can’t deny that. And they’re good men. Moms are always looking to set up their daughters with a good catch.”

  I pull my phone closer and cup my hand near the bottom as if I’m sharing secrets. “But they’re my stepbrothers, Rita.”

  “Your parents were married. They’re not your blood relatives.” From the tone of her voice I can almost picture her waving her hand in the air, swatting away something invisible and insignificant.

  I’m silent again.

  “Well, I just wanted to check on you, April. Remember, we’re always here for you. Keep in touch, okay?”

  “Okay, Rita. I will. Thank you.”

  I click off, exit the store, and wander the city aimlessly for several hours.

  19

  Home

  When I first arrived back in the city, and after circling the streets for about twenty minutes for a parking spot, I sent a message to Mitchell as he’d asked, letting him know I made it here.

  Since then I haven’t heard much from the three of them, and though I have so much I want to say as I wonder every evening how their days had been, I purposely avoid contacting them, hoping that with each day that passes, I’ll think of them less and less.

  After I’ve been at Christine’s for about two weeks, I’m making the short walk to my second day of work at the Greek restaurant when I receive a text from Finn: I need your help with a project. A logo. Do you do that?

  I blink and read his words three times. I did a few design classes in school. It seems so long ago that I’m not sure his message is even intended for me.

  Maybe, I write. What’s up?

  Our business needs a logo. Working on some marketing stuff and thought of you.

  Thought of me. I think of him all the time.

  I start work in a few minutes, I write. Working at a restaurant while I wait for the better job to make a decision.

  I know how news gets around in Woodford, so I make sure to keep my story straight. Can we talk tonight, around 9:30?

  Sure. Later.

  Even though I’m training, and even though it’s a busy dinner crowd, the hours pass exceedingly slowly. I’m cheered by Finn’s message; if he’s working on promoting the business, that means there’s hope for it.

  Mostly, I’m excited that I’ll be talking to him later. I can’t wait to hear his voice and find out how they’re all doing. Several times during my shift, I have to shake myself back to the present when I drift away on memories. Memories of when I hugged Finn goodbye, of the time we almost kissed when we were sitting on our parents’ bed, of all the times we did so much more than kiss, his arms around me, him inside me. Of his brothers inside me. Of all of us. Together.

  In my mind, I’ve relived the past several months by the time nine-thirty finally comes.

  I dial his number and he picks up on the second ring.

  “Hey, how are you?” I say.

  “I'm okay. How are things going for you?”

  “They're going. It’s good to hear from you. How are Mitchell and Reid?”

  “They're okay. We all miss you,” he says.

  “I miss all of you, too,” I say. And then before I head too far down that road, I change the subject. “So, a logo?”

  “Yeah. I want to place an ad in a local mailer, and I was working with the company to put something together, but it looks boring. The business needs more visibility and new branding would help.”

  “Good idea,” I say. “Do you have any ideas?”

  Finn has a few broad ideas, and he sends over something really rough that he sketched for the ad, but he tells me he’s open to anything.

  When we click off, I hold my phone against my heart, not wanting to lose the connection. I’m excited to have something to work on with him. I hope I can deliver something useful.

  In my vast amount of spare time during the next week, I do research and think about what would appeal to potential customers of the landscaping company. Since Finn gave me free rein, I let my creativity flow and develop several concepts.

  Hours fly by when I’m working on the logos. When I surface, I realize that I’m actually happy, or something close to it. I don’t know if it’s doing the design work, or being connected to the Nolan brothers while doing it — probably both.

  When I narrow down the designs and send my favorites to Finn, he calls five minutes later. “April, these are great! You need to stop wasting time at a restaurant and put your skills to work.”

  Alone in the apartment, I blush. “You think one of those will be okay?” I ask.

  “They're all terrific. It's going to be hard to decide. I'll show them to Mitchell and Reid and see what they say.”

  “That's great,” I say. “I hope the branding helps.”

  “It will,” he says. “How much do we owe you for these?”

  “Finn. Don't be ridiculous. We're family.”

  His voice is suddenly serious. “Yeah. Family. Well, thank you. I'll be back in touch.”

  He texts me the next day just to say hello, but he never does tell me which logo they decide on. I don’t ask, because I’m afraid that Mitchell and Reid didn’t like the designs, and I don’t want to put Finn in the uncomfortable position of having to tell me that.

  From then on, we stay in touch, texting each other nearly every day. I hear from Mitchell and Reid, too. They check in, and I reach out to them once or twice a week. It’s painful sometimes, and I wonder if having no contact at all would be easier, but I’m no more likely to stop thinking about them than I am to stop breathing.

  I constantly remind myself that this is how things should be. It’s not
necessarily how I want them to be — I haven’t stopped yearning for more yet — but this is what I should want, and this is more than most people have. I have three wonderful men who I can call family, and who I can count on if I need them. I should be happy.

  Summer drags on.

  I don’t get enough hours at the restaurant, and it’s no Lucky’s Café in many ways, but it’s a job.

  Ella continues to be mostly absent from the apartment and tells me to sleep in her bed when she’s not there, but she shows no signs of moving out.

  Christine gets back together with Dustin, and in their newly rediscovered coupled bliss, they try to fix me up with a friend of Dustin’s, but I don’t have the heart for it.

  In early August, I finally get an actual interview at the giant corporation where Christine works. It’s for marketing work, but even though it’s a very junior position, the decision-making process promises to be ridiculously protracted due to some restructuring decisions still up in the air.

  In some ways, my life is in limbo, but I am moving on. I’m no longer the mess that I was after my mom died. Every day, I put one foot in front of the other and move forward. The Nolan brothers helped me get back on my feet; the problem is that my feet want nothing more than to run back to them.

  A week-long heat wave hits the city in mid-August, and two days into it, the air conditioning at the restaurant breaks. Because of the sudden high demand, repair shops say it will be at least three days before they can come in, so the restaurant is forced to close.

  I mention this to Finn when we’re texting and his response comes immediately: Come and stay with us! It’s at least 10 degrees cooler here, and the county fair is about to open.

  I don’t reply right away. I’d love to see them, but if I’ve made any progress in trying to forget how I really feel about them, I know a visit will set me right back to where I was when I left them.

  And what if we’re all tempted to fall back into bed together? That thought both gives me pause and makes me want to drop everything and sprint to my car parked three blocks away.

  Finn writes again: I was going to ask you if you could come for a visit soon anyway. We need help with another project. Timing is perfect.

  I start to type and then backspace over my words.

  Reid says he’ll buy Oreos, Finn writes.

  I smile. Well, okay… if there will be Oreos. I send the message before I can stop myself.

  I bang my head against my phone’s screen a few times, my eyes squeezed shut, my body flooding with heat. What am I doing? Joking about being persuaded by cookies is ironic, because I’d live on bread and water for the rest of my life if it meant being with them.

  I’m playing with fire by going back there so soon. Actually, I’m playing with my heart. Tossing it around like it’s a thin glass ornament and my hands are coated in butter. It’s likely that my heart will shatter into a million pieces, but maybe I’ll have some fun before that happens.

  I tell Finn I’ll be back in touch, and then I contact Mr. Stavros, the owner of the restaurant. Under normal circumstances, he seems to sweat more than most people. I try not to imagine how he’s dealing with the weather.

  “I’m going to leave the city for a few days, if that’s okay,” I say. “When do you think you’ll need me back?”

  Young kids are screaming in the background at his end of the line. He grunts. “Business was slow, even before the heat wave. Take as long as you want, and call me when you get back. Hopefully we’ll be open by then.”

  I thank him, get off the phone, and start to pack. I’m on the road by six the next morning, and I spend the entire drive vacillating between two completely different plans for my visit: Have fun, let whatever happen, happen, and enjoy their company while I can, or, keep the guys at arm’s length and behave like the stepsister I’m supposed to be.

  I know Plan B is the one that makes sense for the future. I hope we’ll be in each other’s lives for a long time. I know I want them in mine, and the only way that can work is if we’re friends — and family — and nothing more.

  But Plan A is like a devil on my shoulder, whispering steamy memories in my ear, reminding me how good the three of them make me feel, and telling me I need to seize any moment I can because life is short.

  Plan A assumes that the guys would still want me. We were just having fun, and then I left abruptly. Maybe they’re dating other people. Maybe they’ve realized that what we were doing was a bad idea and they wouldn’t want me even if I jumped them. I definitely don’t plan to jump them. At least, I hope I won’t jump them.

  By the time I reach Woodford, I’m no closer to any kind of decision.

  Finn and Reid are on the porch when I pull in, and Mitchell steps outside as I turn off the engine. Their skin looks darker, their hair looks lighter, maybe highlighted from the sun, and somehow their bodies look even better than I remembered.

  Plan A flashes in my mind like the marquee at a Hollywood movie premiere. If I don't want to sleep with them I should just start the car back up and reverse right on out of here, because I can tell I’m not going to be able to resist them if things head in that direction.

  I’m so focused on the three gorgeous men that I don’t notice the truck in the driveway until I’m getting out of my car. It’s a new work truck, and there’s a logo on the door — one of my logos, and my idea for a new company name: Three Brothers Landscaping.

  I’m standing, staring at it, both amazed to see my design in print on a vehicle and surprised they have a new truck, when they come up beside me, Finn in the lead.

  “What do you think? Looks great, doesn’t it?” he says.

  “I don’t even know what to say. Wow.”

  Reid reaches me next and pulls me into a perfect, beautiful hug. I melt into him and give just as good as I get. Next, Finn does the same, and then I’m folded into Mitchell’s arms, nearly in tears from how damn good they all feel.

  “I missed you,” I say, reaching out to them, wanting to keep them close to me.

  “We missed you, too,” Finn says.

  “So, how did this happen?” I say, gesturing to the truck.

  “A business loan,” Finn says. “And the logo is from a marketing genius we know.”

  “You changed the business name,” I say. “I wasn’t sure you’d go for that idea, but I think it’s great.”

  “Wait’ll you see the new hats and shirts,” Reid says.

  “And how’s business been going?” I’m almost afraid to ask, but it’s an important question, especially if they’re making these investments.

  Mitchell opens his mouth to answer, but Finn is the first to speak. “You are looking at the official groundskeepers for Woodford University.”

  “You’re doing work for the university?”

  “A one-year contract with options to renew. We’re hiring, actually, to be able to keep up with all the work that’s needed there and still take care of our other customers,” Finn says.

  “That’s so great, you guys! Congratulations!” I pull them all in for another round of hugs and wish I never had to let them go.

  When we eventually do part, I turn to Finn. “Is that what the project you mentioned is about? Your work for the university?”

  Instead of answering, he looks to his brothers, and I turn to catch them all looking back and forth between one another. They’re not quite smiling; they look serious, but not in a bad way. There’s a buzz of excitement in the air.

  “What’s going on?” I say.

  “C’mon inside,” Mitchell says. “Do you have a bag?” He looks toward the car.

  “In the back seat.”

  Reid opens the back and hefts my duffel. I follow them up onto the porch, where I notice paint cans beside the door. Inside, the smell of fresh paint is unmistakable.

  I kick my shoes off in the entry and follow them through to the kitchen. It looks different, and it’s more than a fresh paint job. “You got a new table,” I say finally, when I notice.
The curtains are down, and there’s a lot less stuff on the counters than there used to be.

  “Yeah. C’mon,” Reid says.

  We continue into the living room, where the walls are bare, and are now painted a soft, pale gray rather than the faded yellow they had been. Here too, the curtains are down, and in place of the old couch sits a new dark gray sectional and a new coffee table.

  “Wow,” I say. “A new look. I like it.” I turn in a slow circle, trying to spot all the differences. The room looks spare, and it’s clear that it’s still in progress, but it’s a nice transformation. It’s more modern and masculine.

  “So is this the project? Am I helping with the painting, or do you need a woman’s touch with decorating?” I laugh, but none of them laugh with me.

  “Sit down, April,” Mitchell says, stepping forward and gesturing to the new couch.

  “Nice. Comfy,” I say. I’m suddenly intensely nervous, and I have to stop myself from babbling on about the furniture.

  Mitchell sits next to me, Finn takes a spot on my other side, and Reid settles behind Mitchell on the part of the sectional that juts out as a place to put your feet up.

  “The project,” Mitchell says, “is about trying to figure out how to get you to stay with us.”

  My mouth opens and then closes again. My heart leaps up in my chest and my stomach flutters frantically. All of my skin is tingling as I sit in stunned silence.

  “We decided we want to make this home our own,” he continues. “We’ll always have memories of growing up here, and memories of our parents, and of your mom, but we thought it was time to make this place ours. The three of us plan to continue living here together, and we want you to join us. We want to make this your home, too.”

  Something inside me is singing, and I want to jump up and say, “Yes, yes!” and tell them that’s all I’ve ever wanted, but I know it’s not that simple. A fresh coat of paint doesn’t erase all of the complications. What about their financial issues — does a loan and one big new contract allow them to keep the house? What do they even mean — live with them? Would I be living here as their sister? I’m trying to form the questions when Mitchell takes my hand.