Goddammit.
Ofcoursehe had to say something soft and thoughtful while I was in full emotional nuclear meltdown mode.
“I hate how well you speak under pressure,” I muttered.
Dirks smiled and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose. “That’s why we work. You panic. I translate.”
Jer chimed in. “And I get blamed for everything.”
“Youareto blame,” I yelled, still not recovered.
He shrugged. “Yeah. Probably.”
“You guys have a nice dinner after yoga?” Dirks weaved his fingers through mine effortlessly as he guided me out of the building.
“We fucked, made up, and decided we’re friends,” I said breezily, as if it were the most normal sentence in the world.
Dirks laughed, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Of course you did.”
Behind us, Jer muttered, “Jesus Christ, is there no privacy in this damn town?”
Dirks and I both stopped mid-step, turned toward him in perfect sync, and deadpanned, “No.”
The timing was truly perfect, and we burst into laughter.
I turned toward Jer and tilted my head. “You coming over? I’ve got an extra-large bed that’s perfect for platonic cuddling. Very wholesome.”
Jer raised an eyebrow. “We’refriends, remember?”
“Weare. We’re friends who occasionally make questionable decisions involving orgasms and boundary issues.”
Dirks snorted. “And sweat. Don’t forget the sweat. It’s honestly kind of gross how sweaty she gets.”
Jer sighed, walking ahead of us toward the car. “This is the dumbest, most dysfunctional throuple I’ve ever witnessed.”
“We’renota throuple,” I called after him, pointing an accusing finger. “You two don’tfuckeach other. You only tolerate each other because my tits are amazing.”
Jer didn’t turn around. “That’s fair.”
Dirks gave a casual shrug. “Honestly? She’s not wrong.”
I trotted after them, holding out my hand. “Toss me the keys, please. And let’s be real—this is basically a time-share situation. You each get me on alternating emotional crises and spontaneous horniness.”
“I haven’t signed up for any time-share,” Jer grumbled.
“Yousaythat, but you’re the one with the tattoo, my name in your phone still has a heart emoji next to it, and let’s not pretend your mouth didn’t do ungodly things when I sat on your?—”
“Luna,” Jer barked, but he was grinning now, trying and failing to hide it.
Dirks leaned in, whispering loudly, “He’s blushing.”
“He’s definitely blushing,” I whispered back.
“I hate both of you,” Jer muttered.
I skipped ahead, plucked the keys from Jer’s hand, and pointed at them. “You love us. I’ll take Jer’s car to my house. Meet you there.”
After everything I’d been through—the guilt, the years apart, the grief of losing them both before I ever really had them—this moment felt like a much-needed deep breath.
