“Not on your life,” he says, lightly elbowing me in the ribs.
“Can't blame a guy for trying,” I laugh, rubbing my side.
Aside from the stupidly heavy headboard, we get the rest of Abel’s things into the back of Trip’s truck in no time.
An hour later, we’ve finished unloading everything and are currently polishing off homemade basil lemonade in Oliver's Texas-meets-Great-Gatsby living room.
True story: I never knew that cowhide print chairs could go so well with delicate brass side tables and a full bear rug, but I suspect it's the dozens of succulents hanging everywhere that pulls it all together. Well, those and the wall of windows that overlook the lush Texas Hill country.
We all groan in anticipation when Oliver brings out his world-famous slow-cooked pork ribs. He serves them with Mexican Street Corn, and nobody's using any utensils.
“God, Oliver,” Trip says, practically making love to his ribs. “These are falling off the bone. And so delicious.”
Oliver pinks up. “I'm glad you like them. It's my mom's recipe.”
Oliver's a sweet guy, but we've never heard him talk about his history. Come to find out, his mom and dad owned the land where the Broken Oak now lives, and this was the family home he grew up in. They died within six months of each other, his dad from the same kind of cancer that took Renée and his mom from a fall. She hadn't wanted to cause anybody any trouble, so she didn’t tell anyone, took some aspirin, and went to sleep. She never woke up.
It's easy to see the guilt that Oliver hides so well under his smiles at his restaurant. Even more touching, though, is how Taylor and Abel immediately surround him when they sense his distress.
I’ve never dared ask the man his age, but he’s got at least fifteen years on them. Still, in this scenario, they are the ones caring for him. The amount of love on their faces is…wow.
I look up at Joaquin and Colt, and they're staring back at me with the exact same look in their eyes. Shit, I’m as lucky as a Powerball winner, and in my soul, I know we’re building something special. I think Renée would be proud of me.
I am so very proud of you.
Her voice hasn't been around as much lately, just like Roly said about his friend’s late husband. This time, though, it doesn't feel like she's abandoning me or that my delusion has suddenly lifted, but that maybe she's just giving me space.
The lady always knew when it was time to go.
As we’re all leaving, I catch Oliver off to the side. “Y’all seem so happy together. And we’re not really telling anybody else right now, but…me, Joaquin, and Colt are kind of together now too. It's just nice to have another throuple, I guess you'd call us, in the area.”
“You're always welcome to call me if you have any questions,” he says, gripping my shoulder. “This all happened so quickly between Abel and Taylor that I wasn't sure of it at first. I totally resisted it. I definitely didn't understand their attraction to me,” he says, gesturing to his short stature and round belly. “They’re so beautiful. What could they possibly see in me?”
I shake my head. “Oliver, I’ve known you for years. Them falling in love with you is the least surprising thing about this scenario. The only surprise for me is that I always assumed you were gay, but other than that, this makes all the sense in the world to me.”
He shrugs. “I am mostly gay, I suppose, though I feel most comfortable calling myself queer. I mean, Abel and I definitely get along better sexually, but then the relationship I have with Taylor is so…God, it’s beautiful. We’re not often sexual with each other, but her heart, man. She's this missing piece that I've never had in a relationship with a guy.”
“That sounds amazing, Ol. And damn, whatever makes you this happy has to be right.”
Oliver glances back at his two beloveds, nodding. “It really does. It feels like all of the pieces have finally clicked together. Hell, even our weaknesses complement each other. Do you know they’re making me go to therapy?”
I laugh, putting my hand on my belly. “Shit. Dammit, I bet you my two will make me go to therapy too.”
I’m not going to Riley though. She’d never let me live down the fact that she was right about me.
Oliver laughs with me, then becomes thoughtful. “If I were you, I’d get out ahead of it now.”
“Yeah?”
He nods sagely. “Because what you don't want? The situation you'redefinitelytrying to avoid? Is being ordered to go to therapy by a horny Domme wearing a maid's outfit while she’s got a thirteen-inch dragon dildo shoved up your ass.”
I put my hands over my eyes. “Oliver, swear to God. Could’ve gone my entire life without that visual.”
“Honestly, I like to keep things to myself. But the look on your face? Worth it,” he says, sending a private smile to Taylor and Abel, both of whom look a little confused.
“Alright, well, your sex dungeon has been installed by the very best, so stretch, limber up, get some electrolytes going, and enjoy yourselves tonight.”
He sends me a little salute, then unsubtly ushers me out the door.
