“Really?” I asked.
He nodded. “They were both studying at Oxford. My mother was studying English and my father was studying history. My mother found out she was pregnant with me six months before they graduated.”
“Were they both from the US?” Tristan asked.
“No, just my mother. She grew up in Maine. My father was Syrian. After graduation, they moved to the US and settled in Oregon where my mom had gotten a teaching job at a private college.”
“What happened to your dad?” I asked.
“There was a lot of unrest in Syria even back in those days, so he went back there to try and get his mother and younger sister out and bring them back to the States. They were all killed when the military targeted their apartment building because they believed rebels were hiding out in it.”
I was glad to see that Memphis wasn’t shutting down as he spoke, though I could hear the pain in his voice.
“How old were you?” was Tristan’s next question.
“Three. My mom remarried when I was ten – my stepdad owned a printing shop in a small town along the Columbia River. He and my mom got married and we moved in with him. My mom left her teaching job after Janie was born and when my stepdad retired early and sold the shop, they bought a house near Mt. Hood…I bought some land a few miles away years ago when I was looking for a place to eventually build a house. I’d wanted to be able to help out with Janie, especially as my parents got older.”
Tristan had told me about Memphis’s sister and that she’d been developmentally disabled, but neither of us knew what had caused her death and that of his parents, and we instinctively knew not to ask. Even now, I could tell Memphis had said as much as he was probably going to on the topic. The fact that he was even talking about himself at all was nothing short of a miracle.
“So why Memphis?” Tristan prodded and I was grateful he’d read into Memphis’s need to steer clear of anything more about his family.
Memphis took his time answering before finally saying, “Memphis is where Graceland is located.”
Tristan and I both smiled.
“Your parents were fans of Elvis,” I said.
“My mom was,” Memphis clarified.
Tristan chuckled. “I guess you’re lucky she didn’t name you after the King himself.”
Tristan and I both froze when Memphis sheepishly dropped his eyes to his plate. “No,” we whispered at the same exact time.
I slapped my hand over my mouth as a bubble of laughter burst up from my throat. Tristan wasn’t faring much better because he was just sitting there, fork full of food hovering above his plate, his mouth hanging wide open as he stared at Memphis.
“Your name is Elvis?” I managed to get out.
“Oh my God,” Tristan said in disbelief and then he started laughing.
“My middle name is Elvis,” Memphis finally admitted, having to speak up to be heard over the noise Tristan was making.
“Oh my God,” Tristan repeated as he dropped his fork and held on to his stomach as the laughing intensified.
“My dad managed to convince my mom to make Elvis my middle name, but he had to agree to make Memphis my first name.”
“Thank God for your dad,” I said as I tried to control myself. Tristan was doing no such thing, but it didn’t appear to anger Memphis. But nothing prepared either of us for what happened next. Instead of eating the fork full of fish he was holding onto, Memphis turned the fork and then used it to slingshot the fish across the table so it hit a still guffawing Tristan with a splat in the face. Tristan was so shocked, he froze for a split second as the chunk of fish slid down his cheek and then it was my turn to laugh uncontrollably. And when something wet hit my face, I didn’t even wait to see who’d flung the food at me. I just grabbed some food on my fork and let it fly.
“Hashe ever stayed in bed with you all night?” Tristan asked as he toyed with my fingers where they were resting on his chest. We were lying in Tristan’s bed in the room that had served as his since he’d been a child, and while it would have been a tight fit for the three of us, we both would have taken the tight quarters any day, over not having Memphis with us.
“No,” I admitted.
After we’d cleaned up the mess from our food fight, which had only ended when Memphis had grabbed Tristan while they’d been in a fish-flinging death match and pinned him to the table before kissing the shit out of him, we’d taken a shower together in Logan and Dom’s massive shower. That had led to other activities which had resulted with me pressed up against Tristan against the tile wall as Memphis had fucked me from behind and Tristan had jacked himself and me off. Afterwards we’d watched TV in the den for a while and as amazing as the sex had been, that moment had been a thousand times better because Memphis had sat between us and while I’d snuggled up against his chest, Tristan had laid his head on Memphis’s lap and had been rewarded with a shoulder massage as we’d watched an over-the-top action flick. But when Tristan had fallen asleep and I’d suggested we go to bed, Memphis had kissed me and said he needed to check some stuff for work on his computer and that we should get some rest. That had been two hours ago and neither of us had bothered to try and go to sleep.
Tristan turned over to face me and then resumed playing with my fingers. I’d left the light on after Tristan had admitted to me this morning about his fear of the dark and the reasons behind it, so I could see the worry in his eyes.
“Do you think this will work?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Declan, Ren and Jagger make it seem so easy,” I said as I thought about my uncles. I had no doubt like any regular couple, the trio had their fair share of fights and challenges, but the three of them being together seemed like the most natural thing in the world. I hadn’t even dared to hope to have something like what they had one day when I’d finally found out thetruth about Tristan and the seeds of hope that I could be with both Tristan and Memphis had been planted.
