Cameron had spent a fair number of lonely evenings texting with Ronan and Christopher, but they’d only hung out a few times. He really liked both men, but especially Ronan. He exuded a calm, “whatever happens, happens” energy that Cameron wanted even a sliver of for himself.
When they arrived at Emory’s office almost an hour early for their date, Ronan put that energy to good use as he walkedstraight into Emory’s office, plopped on the couch, and threw his feet up on the coffee table. Cameron scurried in after him and anxiously hovered by the arm of the couch.
“Hi, honey. It’s wonderful to see you. Did you run into Ronan on the way up?” Emory asked, casting furtive glances between his triple monitors and Cameron, not even bothering to look at his best friend, who was now tossing a very breakable-looking paperweight in the air.
“He actually came to pick me up. That’s why we’re so early. And, uh…I’m sorry that we’re so early.”
Emory let out a low growl as Ronan missed catching the paperweight, and it landed with a concerning thunk on the rug. “It’s okay, honey. It really is good to see you.”
Ronan let out a plaintive noise, and Emory ignored him, continuing to flick his eyes between his screens. An uncomfortable—at least to Cameron—silence stretched between the two friends until Ronan made another one of those noises.
“Both of you,” Emory finally amended, and Ronan went back to calmly throwing the paperweight in the air.
“Go ahead and take a load off, Cameron. We’ve got an hour to kill. Why don’t we get to know each other better?” Ronan said.
Emory rolled his eyes and put on a pair of noise-canceling headphones that were already plugged into his desktop. Perhaps they were not the first ones to bother him today. Cameron took a seat and got comfortable as Ronan launched into a lively story about Emory when they were teens.
Just like Cameron, Ronan had a knack for evading hard topics. Their conversations had never strayed away from humorous, and while they weren’t quite surface level, Cameron got the sense there was more to Ronan than what he let show on the outside.
Cameron wasn’t able to crack his shell before they got lunch or on the ride back across town afterward. When Ronan invitedhimself into Cameron’s apartment, he thought maybe they’d finally have a real conversation, but instead, Cameron somehow found himself answering increasingly probing questions about himself. By the time the pizza Ronan ordered for dinner arrived, Cameron had come out to him as a demiboy, and Ronan had offered to take him shopping the following week.
With the promise of friendship and the pressure of the next month weighing heavily on him, Cameron opened up about how anxious he was about meeting Emory’s family and his ongoing angst about fate in general.
Ronan held his hand throughout, assuring him that he, too, had his own doubts about fate, but not where Emory and Cameron were concerned. “You don’t have to believe me, but my rabbit can tell when two people are right for each other. He was able to correctly gauge fated mates for six of my sisters and three of my brothers. Trust me, the two of you are perfect together.”
Cameron really wanted to learn more about Ronan’s family, but instead, he shared a few more stories about some of Emory’s past relationships. It was becoming increasingly clear to Cameron the toll working for the family company had taken on him.
When Saturday arrived, Cameron was ready at the curb with a bag and a plan the moment Emory’s car pulled up. Emory cast the duffel a curious glance but merely held the back door of the car open for him.
Cameron’s octopus was vibrating with excitement at the plan, and by the time they made it to Emory’s apartment, he threw off his shoes and ran for the bedroom. Emory followed, much more slowly, and he made a surprised noise but said nothing when he found Cameron taking out all his ‘relaxation’ supplies and spreading them out on the bed. He had massage oil, candles, fluffy robes, scented soaps, and a few of his favorite sex toys.
Emory walked up behind Cameron and placed a tentative hand on his back. Even though they’d spent a very intimate weekend together, it seemed some of their inexperience as a couple was still in play. Cameron was determined to dispel it.
With a little urging from Cameron and his octopus, Emory slowly eased into Cameron’s plan of having a spa night. One mediocre massage, luxurious bubble bath, and gentle lovemaking session later, Emory was a pile of goo in bed.
“You’re too good to me, honey,” Emory purred, languidly stroking his hand down Cameron’s naked back.
“I think I am just the right amount to you,” Cameron said, squirming around until he was burrowed in Emory’s arms. “I have to admit, this was partially Ronan’s idea, and I video called Christopher from the store so he could help me pick out the scents for the massage oil and soaps.”
Emory gave him a tender kiss as he tucked them both under the covers. “Thank you for crowdsourcing my relaxation.”
“Feels like that’s the only way we’ll get you relaxed,” Cameron said, tucking his head under Emory’s chin.
The rest of the weekend passed in a similar vein, slow and lush, filled with gentle touches and sweet moments.
Things got harder for Emory the following week when a satellite site suffered a devastating warehouse fire. Christopher stepped in this time, picking Cameron up and bringing him to the “war room” they had set up in his living room.
Cameron arrived to find Ronan putting the final touches on a big pot of soup as the other two men sat at the kitchen table figuratively, and occasionally literally, pulling their hair out. Cameron could cook about as well as Emory could, but he could make a mean cookie, so he set about throwing together random mix-ins until he had semi-presentable cookie dough balls spread on a baking sheet. Ronan slid them into the oven and sagged against Cameron’s side.
“I swear, I’m not even dating either of them, but when duty calls, it calls. Usually, they hole up in the office until ungodly hours, but Christopher was able to coax Emory over here with promises of my cooking,” Ronan explained.
“I would say something snarky about alphas who can’t cook, but I’m no better.”
Ronan shook his head, but his expression was fond as he led Cameron out to the couch. They put on a reality TV show at a low volume, and Cameron’s octopus basked in the feeling of not only having a fated mate but also friends.
The more time he spent with the three men, the more he learned about Emory’s infamous cousin. He had been the family favorite growing up, much more invested in family politics and prestige than Emory. He was the only son of Sebastian, Emory’s father’s younger brother. While in a normal family hierarchy, that would have meant that Emory was still set to inherit the family business, Jonathon was much more interested in the inner workings of the company, and Emory had been more than thrilled to not have the burden placed solely on him.
Then, when they were teens, things began to change. Jonathon became cagey and sometimes even openly hostile with his parents. Then one day, he hadn’t shown up for family dinner, apparently having disappeared sometime overnight. Emory held out hope for years that he was off discovering himself, and he’d come back to claim the family company and be Emory’s trusted friend and confidant once again.
