Lori waved from the couch, looking tired but content. “You’re a saint.”
“How are you feeling?” I asked, moving to sit beside her while the twins returned to their glitter explosion.
“At this point, I think I’m 100% heartburn,” she groaned, patting her rounded belly. “But the doctor says everything’s stable. Just need to keep resting until this little girl decides to make her appearance.”
Edie and Maggie peeked in from the kitchen, waving to me as Joe bustled around us, arranging a tray of snacks on the coffee table before setting the twins up at the craft table with my emergency kit. The house was chaotic in the best way—children’s laughter, the clatter of pots and pans, Christmas music playing softly from hidden speakers. It felt like a home should feel, warm and alive and full of love.
“Luke called to say they’re running a bit late,” Lori said, her eyes knowingly on my face. “He and Eli are bringing side dishes, and Henry made pie.”
I nearly choked on the glass of water Joe had handed me. “They? Like, both of them? Together?”
Lori’s lips quirked. “Yeah, of course.”
“That’s... nice,” I managed, my voice strangled.
Before Lori could question me on my weirdness, the front door burst open with a gust of frigid air. Luke appeared first, his cheeks flushed from the cold, arms laden with covered dishes. Behind him came Eli, his dark hair dusted with snowflakes, carrying what looked like a casserole dish. Henry brought up the rear, two pies balanced carefully in his hands.
My heart didn’t just skip a beat—it stopped entirely, then restarted with a painful thud that resonated through my entire body. Luke’s eyes found mine immediately, his face lighting up with a smile so genuine it made my knees weak. Eli’s gaze followed, more measured but no less intense, a slight quirk to his lips that sent heat spiraling through me.
“Mioko,” Luke said, my name on his lips sounding like something precious. “You’re here.”
“Where else would I be?” I replied, attempting lightness but hearing the strain in my voice. “I’m staying here.”
“Right,” he nodded, still staring at me like I was a miracle, not a woman who’d slipped out of his bed at dawn and spent a week actively hiding from him.
The next few minutes were a flurry of activity—dishes being transferred to the kitchen, coats hung up, greetings exchanged. I helped the twins set the table, hyperaware of Luke and Eli’s movements around the room, the way they seemed to operate as a unit now, communicating with glances and brief touches that spoke of a newfound intimacy.
When Joe announced dinner was ready, we all migrated to the dining room where a long table had been set with Lori’s grandmother’s china. I deliberately aimed for a seat between Lori and Emily, but somehow ended up sandwiched between Luke and Eli, their solid frames hemming me in on both sides.
“This looks amazing,” Eli said, his deep voice rumbling beside me as Joe carved the turkey. His shoulder pressed against mine, warm and firm, sending electric currents through my body. On my other side, Luke’s thigh lined up against mine under the table, a deliberate point of contact that he made no attempt to break.
I shifted in my seat, trying to create space, but there was nowhere to go. They had me trapped between them, and from the sly glance they exchanged across me, they knew exactly what they were doing.
Their proximity assaulted my senses. Eli’s arm brushed mine each time he reached for his water glass. Luke’s hand grazed my thigh when he adjusted his napkin. Their cologne—Eli’s woodsy and masculine, Luke’s lighter but no less enticing—mingled in the air until I could barely breathe.
I struggle to focus on the conversation. Lori was discussing the baby’s nursery, Joe recounted a car repair story, and Edie talked about a wacky customer at Tapped Amber. I barely heard any of it, too consumed by the men on either side of me, by the heat of their bodies, too focused on the way their shoulders crowded mine as they passed side dishes around the table.
But things came back into focus as I heard Luke mention going back to Boston.
The words hit me like a physical blow. Back to Boston? After everything? I couldn’t process, couldn’t understand, and my heart was racing like the beginnings of a panic attack. Embarrassed, I stood and went to the bathroom, splashing water over my face and taking slow breaths to calm my beating heart.
Fuck. He couldn’t leave.
I looked at my wide, panicked eyes in the mirror. “It’ll be fine. I probably just heard him wrong, right? I wasn’t really paying attention.”
When I came back out, though, he was shrugging into a coat and opening the front door. Why wasn’t Eli stopping him?
I sprinted across the room before I could think better of it, mumbling some excuse about fresh air as I chased after Luke’s retreating form, sliding my feet into a pair of boots by the door that weren’t even mine. The rational part of my brain was screaming at me to stop, but the part of me that had been cracked wide open by Luke and Eli, the part that was raw and bleeding and desperate not to lose what I’d just found—that part propelled me through the front door and into the frigid December night.
The cold slapped me across the face, stealing my breath. Snow crunched beneath my boots as I stumbled down the porch steps, wrapping my arms around myself as I realized I hadn’t even put a coat on. Luke stood by his car, illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights reflecting off the snow. The car was running, exhaust creating wispy clouds in the frigid air.
“You can’t go back,” I blurted out, my voice sharp in the quiet night.
Luke turned, surprise on his face. “Mioko—”
“No, you listen to me,” I said, advancing on him, all the emotions I’d been suppressing for the past week bubbling up like a volcano. “You can’t leave. Not again. Not after everything.”
“I’m not—”
