I don't think. I move.
Two steps and my hands are on her face, tilting it up, and I'm kissing her like I'm trying to climb inside the moment and live there. Messy. Desperate. My teeth catch her lower lip and I don't care and she doesn't either because her hands are grabbing the front of my jacket and pulling me closer and she's kissing me back with everything she has.
She's shaking. Or I'm shaking. The distinction doesn't matter because the only thing that matters is the heat of her mouth and the sound she makes against my lips.
I break the kiss. Not because I want to. Because if I don't say it now it'll eat through me.
"I missed you so much." My voice is wrecked. I don't care. "I love you, Maya."
Her hands tighten on my jacket. Her eyes are wet and wide, locked on mine and she says, "I love you too," and the words are so devastating that something inside me rearranges itself permanently.
Then Reid's hand is on my shoulder. The grip that is simultaneously affection and command.
"Share." One word. The ghost of a smile in it.
He takes her from me, with intention. His hand goes to the back of her neck and he pulls her in and kisses her with his full attention, unhurried and certain. His other hand settles at the small of her back, fingers spread wide, holding her against him.
When they break the kiss she's flushed and her lips are swollen.
Owen hasn't moved.
He's standing at the edge of the porch light, just past where it reaches full brightness, hands at his sides.
He doesn't step forward. He doesn't reach for her. He doesn't think he's entitled to this. He doesn't think he gets to cross the distance she put between them. He will stand on this porch and watch her love Reid and me and he will be genuinely glad for it.
"I love all of you," she says.
And she crosses the distance he wouldn't cross. She rises on her toes and kisses him and Owen's hands come up to her waist and I watch his fingers tremble once before they close and hold.
When they break apart Owen opens his mouth. "Maya, I'm—"
"Don't." She puts two fingers against his lips. "There's nothing to be sorry about."
He closes his eyes. A breath that I feel in my own chest. When he opens them, he's looking at her like she just handed him something he's been reaching for his entire life and always pulled back from at the last second.
We're all inside the door now. The four of us standing in the narrow entrance hall of a house in Silver Lake that smells like chicken soup and chamomile, and the world outside has not changed. Daniel is still out there, the acquisition is still in limbo. But inside this space, in this specific moment, it doesn't matter. None of it.
Maya is pressed between Reid and me, Owen's hand still holding her waist.
Someone clears their throat.
The sound is small. Polite.
I turn. The hallway opens into a living room, and standing at its edge is a woman who is so obviously Maya's mother. Same eyes. Same bone structure under different decades. She's shorter than Maya by two inches and standing with a stillness that carries its own authority. Her hands are clasped in front of her. Her face is a composition of several things happening at once. Surprise, assessment, and the very specific expression of a mother who has just watched three men kiss her daughter in the front hallway.
The air changes.
“Mom." Maya straightens her sweater. Pushes the loose hair behind her ear. "Meet Owen, Jace, and Reid. I met them while I was staying in Montana. Guys, this is my mom, Vivian."
Vivian Reeves looks at Owen. Then at me. Then at Reid. The assessment takes approximately four seconds and contains more data processing than most job interviews.
"Are they... your friends?"
Maya opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. The stutter is tiny, a fraction of a syllable, but I can see it building, the attempt of an explanation, the careful calibration of how much truth to offer a mother who is still holding together a household under siege.
I step forward. Extend my hand.
"We're her boyfriends."
