My wine glass freezes halfway to my lips. "What?"
"All of it. Medical bills, the mortgage, everything." He pulls up his phone and slides it across the table. "And we've set up a monthly stipend. They won't have to worry about money anymore. You won't have to worry about them being cared for."
I stare at the screen, at numbers that don't make sense.
Breck adds, "We also contacted the best orthopedic surgeon in the state. Dr. Westling. He's already reviewed your father's case and agreed to do the surgery. Everything's covered."
Enzo finishes, "They're on our insurance now. Anything not covered, we'll handle."
My fork clatters against the plate, but I can't make myself care.
"No, I can't accept—" My words crack.
"Even if you don't accept, it's already done," Ansel states. "The paperwork is filed. The payments are made. Your parents are taken care of."
"Why?" The word comes out barely above a whisper. "Why would you do this?"
Breck reaches across the table, covering my hand with his. "Because you deserve to breathe, to enjoy life without worrying about whether your parents will lose their house or if your dad can afford surgery."
Enzo leans closer. "We take care of people we care about."
Tears spill over before I can stop them. I try to wipe them away, mortified that I'm crying in a restaurant, but they keep coming.
Ansel moves to the seat beside me, his arm coming around my shoulders. "Hey. It's okay."
"It's not okay." I'm laughing and crying at the same time. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
His thumb traces circles on my shoulder, and I remember Montana, Enzo's unconscious gesture in his sleep. "Hopefully made your life easier."
"I don't know how to thank you."
Breck squeezes my hand. "You don't have to. Keep being brilliant at your job. Keep challenging us. Keep—" He stops, and his features transform. "Keep being you."
I look at each of them.
"Thank you." The words feel inadequate for what they've given me, but they're all I have. "For everything."
Ansel's arm tightens briefly around my shoulders before he releases me, moving back to his original seat.
But the distance feels different now. I realize I'm not just their employee anymore. I'm more than that. But I don't know what that means yet.
After dinner, Breck suggests a bar he knows a few blocks away. The night is cool but not cold, perfect for walking off the wine and heavy food—and maybe helping me recover from the emotional whiplash of the last hour.
The bar is less pretentious than the restaurant. We claim a table near the back. Eyes follow the triplets as we move through the space.
Women notice them. Of course they do. Three identical brothers who happen to be tall, rich, and ridiculously good-looking. They turn heads everywhere they go.
I didn't expect how much it would bother me.
Stupid. This is stupid.
A brunette at the bar catches Enzo's eye and smiles. He nods once in acknowledgment but doesn't engage. A redhead"accidentally" bumps into Breck on her way to the bathroom, apologizing with a hand on his chest that lingers too long. Each interaction makes my jaw tighter.
I stand abruptly. "I need to use the restroom."
Ansel rises immediately. "I'll walk you."
"I'm perfectly capable of finding a bathroom alone. I've been doing it for more than two decades. I'm practically an expert at this point."
