Juno pushed off the doorframe and walked into the bathroom. The air shifted around him, lighter, sharper.
"You ruined her lipstick," Juno murmured, stopping in front of me.
"I fixed her head," Mateo countered, stepping aside but staying close, a looming sentinel.
Juno stepped into the space Mateo vacated. He didn't touch me below the neck. He reached up, cupping my face in his long, cool hands. His thumbs brushed over my cheekbones, stroking the skin.
"Hi," I breathed, my heart rate still spiking, but differently now.
"Hi," Juno said softly.
He leaned in. I expected him to kiss me hard, to take what Mateo had started, to turn this into a frenzy.
He didn't.
He pressed his mouth to mine slowly, gently. It was a seal. A promise. He tasted of white tea and the faint, smoky sweetness of his scent, burnt sugar. It wasn't about friction this time. It wasn't about silencing the noise.
It was about telling me I wasn't alone in the quiet.
He kissed me until my breathing synchronized with his. He kissed me until I felt his empathy seeping into my skin, knitting the frayed edges of my confidence back together. It was intimate in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the fact that he saw me, really saw me, and hadn't looked away.
He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against mine.
"You are not a fraud, Rowan," he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine, golden and fierce. "You are the only honest thing in this entire city."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"Twenty minutes," a crisp voice cut through the humidity of the bathroom.
I looked over Juno’s shoulder. Stephen was standing in the hall, checking his watch. He was dressed in his legal armor, a navy suit, silver glasses, not a hair out of place. He looked calm, precise, and utterly formidable.
"The car is idling," Stephen said. "Traffic is building on the Westway."
Juno didn't let go of my face. He turned his head slightly.
"Join us for a minute," Juno said.
Stephen looked up from his watch. He looked at the three of us, Mateo leaning against the towel rack like a bodyguard deity, Juno holding my face like a relic, and me, disheveled but standing on my own two feet.
Stephen pocketed his phone. "We can spare a few minutes."
He walked into the small room. He didn't say anything. He just came to my side.
Juno moved, turning me so my back was to the mirror again.
Mateo stepped in from the left.
Stephen stepped in from the right.
Juno stood in front.
They closed ranks.
Mateo moved first, wrapping his massive arms around me from behind, his chest pressing against my back, his chin resting on top of my head. He was the wall. The fortification.
Stephen took my right hand. He interlaced our fingers, his grip firm and cool, squeezing tight. He stepped in until his shoulder was pressed against mine. He was the logic. The structure.
Juno stepped close, wrapping his arms around my waist, burying his face in the crook of my neck. He was the heart. The fire.
