Marco and Theo both nod.
We stand there in the living room, three men who’ve been friends for years, now bound together by feelings for the same woman.
It should feel wrong. Competitive. Like we’re setting ourselves up for disaster.
But it doesn’t.
It feels like we’re finally acknowledging what’s been building for weeks. Like we’re choosing honesty over pretense. Like maybe, just maybe, we can figure this out without destroying everything in the process.
“One more thing,” Marco says as I’m heading toward my room. “Jake can’t know. Not until we figure out what’s happening with Rachel. If he finds out before we’ve had a chance to talk to her, this whole thing blows up.”
“Agreed.” I pause at the doorway. “He’s leaving for Alaska in six weeks. Maybe we wait until after he’s gone to have the conversation with her.”
“That gives us time to figure out how to approach it,” Theo says.
Marco nods. “And time for Rachel to deal with her job situation and Derek, without us adding more stress.”
It’s a plan. Not a great one, but better than stumbling forward blind.
I head to my room and close the door.
My dad used to say that the biggest regrets in life aren’t the things you do—they’re the things you don’t do. The chances you don’t take. The words you don’t say.
He died before he got to see me graduate from high school. Before he got to meet any woman, I brought home. Before he got to tell me, he was proud.
I spent years wishing I’d said more to him. Told him what he meant to me. Made sure he knew I loved him before it was too late.
I’m not making that mistake again.
Rachel matters. She matters more than I’m comfortable admitting—more than makes sense given how complicated this situation is.
But life’s too short to walk away from something real just because it’s messy.
And whatever this is—whatever’s building between the three of us and Rachel—it feels real.
Now we just have to figure out how to make it work.
Chapter sixteen
Chapter 16
Rachel
Riverside Diner is busy for a Sunday lunch rush.
I spot Dorothy at a corner booth, already working on a cup of tea and a slice of pie. Her cane leans against the wall beside her.
“Rachel!” She waves me over with the enthusiasm of someone half her age. “I ordered you coffee. Hope that’s okay.”
“That’s perfect.” I slide into the booth across from her. “How are you feeling?”
“Old and creaky, but alive. Can’t complain.” She pushes a plate toward me. “I got you a pie too. The waitress insisted I needed two slices, and I’m not about to eat both.”
“Dorothy, you didn’t have to—”
“Hush. You look like you need pie.” She studies me with those sharp blue eyes that miss nothing. “How’s the job search going?”
“Slowly. Very slowly.” I take a bite of pie—apple, still warm. “I’ve applied everywhere. Retail, admin positions, even the front desk at the dentist’s office. Nobody’s calling back.”
