“Where do you think you’re going, Blair?” Brant reaches me first, grabbing my arm in a gentle grip. “We missed you last night. But we thought it best to give you a night to rest.”
“Really?” I snort. “You wanted to give me a night to rest, or is it because your fiancée is in town?”
“Fiancée? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The confused looks on all their faces make me rethink my conversation with Jane from yesterday morning.
“Jane. I ran into her yesterday morning as I was leaving your hotel room. She cornered me right outside your door to make sure I knew I was just a plaything to the three of you and nothing more. She even told me about the baby.” I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying as I envision little mini copies of the three men I love.
“Blair, honey, we should have told you sooner, but Jane is nothing to us. A couple of years ago, we thought she was something more, but she showed us her true colors by not accepting Remy as part of our packaged deal.” Brant glances at Remy, with Remy’s hand back in front of his mouth, and a pained expression across his handsome face.
“She’s the one who hurt you?” I lift my hand to Remy’s arm and pull it away from his face. “Don’t ever hide yourself from me.”
A smile crosses Remy’s face, “Never.” He says.
“When we broke it off with Jane, she went a little crazy. We thought she was better, so we lifted the restraining order.” Charlie shrugs. “We should probably get that reinstated.”
“So, Jane isn’t your fiancée, and she isn’t carrying your baby?”
“Hell, no. Thankfully, we never had sex with that bitch.” Remy replies.
Tears begin to stream down my face, “I’m so sorry I believed her.”
“It’s okay, little one.” Brant pulls me into his arms as each takes turns kissing me. It isn’t until I hear voices asking Brant about our relationship that I realize we are still in a public space that has attracted media attention. Brant clears his throat and addresses the crowd that has gathered. “My brothers and I are in a committed relationship with this amazing woman.” The crowd cheers his words. They cheer even louder when he offers a full interview explaining our relationship that will be on the Iowa Poseidon team website.
Once the crowd and the reporters disperse, Brant leans down and kisses my cheek, “It might be too early to tell you this, but I love you, Blair.”
“I love you too, Brant.” I kiss his lips before moving out of his arms to stand in front of Charlie.
“I love you, Blair.” Charlie lifts my hand to his lips and places a kiss on the inside of my wrist.
“I love you too, Charlie.” I lean up and kiss his lips, then move to Remy.
“I love you, Blair.” Remy doesn’t touch me, only holds my gaze as if he’s afraid I won’t say it back to him.
I place my hands on either side of his head and kiss his upper lip, before trailing my lips down to his. “I love you too, Remy.”
Epilogue - Remy
Ten Years Later
“Places everyone.” Blair clapsher hands to get our seven children's attention. It's family picture day, something Blair has us do every three months. Blair hires a professional photographer and everything. Today’s setting isour backyard. It rained a little last night, so we’re avoiding the muddy areas.
The older boys groan as our twin girls twirl in their white dresses, because today's picture color of clothing is white.
My brothers and I have kept Blair pregnant almost every year since we met her. Our first son was born with a cleft palate like mine, but thanks to our resources and early intervention, his scar is barely visible. He’s also never been teased and is the star goalie on his junior hockey league team—thanks to all the lessons from his ‘aunt’ Lenni.
“Are you sure white was the best choice?” Charlie holds up our four-month-old son, who has a little smile on his face, as a suspicious-sounding noise comes from his bottom.
“It will be fine,” A smirk crosses Blair’s face as she nods to the kids. “Ready, kids?”
“Ready, Mom!” they shout in unison.
“Ready, set, go!” Blair yells as she bends down, grabbing something from the ground. The children scatter, also reaching for the ground.
It isn’t until a glob of mud lands on my white shirt that I realize what is happening—we are having a mud fight to show that perfect lives can be a little messy sometimes.
The children scream and yell, launching the mud balls at each other. Even the girls aren’t afraid to get dirty as they throw mudat Brant. The photographer even joins in since he’s used to our crazy photoshoots.
After twenty minutes of the mud fight, we all settled down and let the photographer snap a photo that would become our favorite one ever, as it shows the loving, carefree side of our family thanks to Blair and her love for the three of us that has spilled over to our children.
-The end-
