"Erin?"
"I am sorry, I think I misheard you." Her voice is careful, measured. "It sounded like you said you like being married to the Italian mafia prince you were forced to marry in my place."
"I did say that."
More silence. Longer this time.
"Erin, say something."
"I am trying to process," she says slowly, and I can practically see her sitting there with her mouth open, trying to make sense of what I just said. "You—Rosalina Carter, the most commitment-phobic person I have ever met, the woman who once broke upwith a guy because he used the word 'we' when talking about weekend plans—like being married?"
"Yes."
"To Dante Salvatore."
"Yes."
"The man you married under false pretenses while wearing my wedding dress."
"Technically he married me under false pretenses since he thought I was you, but yes."
I hear her exhale on the other end, a long breath that might be disbelief or relief or both. "Rosie. What the hell happened in the last two months? Tell me everything. And I mean everything. Do not leave out a single detail."
So I do. I tell her about the first week locked in my room, about the escape attempts that Gabriel foiled every single time, about how I tried to scale the building and he caught me by my ankles. I tell her about refusing food and demanding to speak to Seamus and slowly going insane from boredom. I tell her about Dante taking my door off its hinges and carrying me downstairs over his shoulder for dinner. I tell her about the spanking that should have been humiliating but was somehow not, about the shopping trip with Luca where things got heated in the fitting room, about the run with Gabriel that ended with kissing against a tree in Central Park.
I tell her about the arrangement they proposed, about how all three of them want to share me, about how terrifying and confusing and somehow right it all feels even though I know it should feel wrong.
I tell her about meeting Dante's family, about his mother being warm and wonderful, about the Don being exactly as terrible as Dante's tension suggested he would be. I tell her about standing up to him at dinner, about defending Dante in front of the entire family, about the way Dante kissed me on the steps afterward like I had given him something he did not even know he needed.
"So let me get this straight," Erin says when I finish, and I can hear her moving around on the other end, probably pacing the way she does when she is processing information. "You are potentially going to be in a relationship with all three of them? Dante and his cousin and his half-brother?"
"Maybe," I say, because I still have not fully decided, still have not fully processed what that would even mean. "It is complicated."
"Complicated," she repeats, and then she laughs—actually laughs, bright and genuine. "Rosie, that is not complicated. That is—" She pauses, and I can practically hear her shaking her head. "Actually, knowing you, that is kind of perfect."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you have never done anything the normal way in your entire life. Why would this be any different?" I can hear the smile in her voice now, warm and affectionate. "Remember when you were supposed to learn ballroom dancing for formal events and instead you convinced the instructor to teach you self-defense moves? Or when you were supposed to attend that fancy finishing school and you got expelled for starting an underground poker ring?"
"That poker ring was very successful, thank you very much."
"My point exactly. You have never fit into the mold people tried to put you in. So why would your love life be any different?" She pauses. "If you are happy, then I am happy for you. Even if the situation is completely insane."
"Says the woman who ran away to Texas to raise chickens with her random guard to go raise chickens."
"Touché." She laughs again. "We are both living absolutely ridiculous lives, and I love that for us."
"How is it?" I ask, genuinely curious. "Living on a farm with Dolan?"
"It is perfect, Rosie. Like, genuinely perfect in a way I did not think my life could be." Her voice goes soft, dreamy. "We wake up with the sun, and Dolan makes breakfast while I feed the chickens. Then we work on the farm—we are trying to grow vegetables, which is harder than it sounds—and in the evenings we sit on the porch and watch the sunset. It is simple and quiet and exactly what I needed."
"You sound happy."
"I am. Happier than I have ever been." She pauses. "And it sounds like you are finding your own version of happy too. Even if your version involves three mafia men and no door on your bedroom."
"Dante says I can earn the door back."
"By doing what?"
