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Something in his voice is off, so I peek back at him. His eyes are cast to the floor. Dealing with more than one boyfriend is kind of exhausting. Especially when more than one needs you at the same time. Johnny goes to get up, but I grab his wrist. “Don’t,” I say. I look around the room. “We can all acknowledge that this isn’t going to be easy, right? I never thought it would be. Things are going to pop up like this, but we can’t run from these problems. Let’s talk them out.”
“Can we do the talking later?” Brawler asks. “I kind of want you to open my present.”
There’s another package lying next to the cookie jar. It’s wrapped in faded snowmen wrapping paper. The thought that Brawler had to go searching for this old paper makes my heart pinch in pain. I hate that they’ve all been through real shit.
I reach for the package and gently unwrap it. Inside, are bright purple personalized boxing wraps. Uppercut Princess scrawls across the fabric. I smile at him. “These are awesome. Where did you get them?”
“Finn helped me out,” Brawler says. “He special ordered them through this company they have an affiliation with.”
“I hope you didn’t spend too much,” I tell him. I know he makes money through organizing the fights, but it can’t be much. Plus, I don’t know how he was even paid for the couple months that they didn’t have fights.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I wanted to get something for my girl, and I did.”
I start wrapping my hands, seeing where my nickname will land when it comes time to train again. With a smile, I wrap them back up and place them on the coffee table. Even though I just had toast, I lean over and sneak one of the cookies from Oscar’s cookie jar and bite into it. “Mmm,” I moan. “No offense, Brawler, but these are way better than your mom’s.”
“Eating cat litter is better than my mom’s cookies.”
We sit silently for a little while. The tension in the room hovers even though it’s died down a little. The box is practically taking up all my attention now, sitting in the middle of Johnny’s clenched fingers.
“Do you want to tell us what the ring is for?” Mag asks.
There are no accusations in his tone. Just a question from a friend to a friend in the midst of all their other friends.
I run my palm down Johnny’s thigh, and he sighs. “It’s not an engagement ring if that’s what you guys were thinking.”
I take a deep breath and release it. It had been something I thought at first, but since he didn’t get down on one knee and all that jazz, I pretty much figured it wasn’t. Then again, Oscar interrupted him from the beginning, so if that’s what he’d wanted to do, he didn’t get the chance. And even if he wanted to, I’m not sure he could actually get to one knee right now with his injuries.
I don’t see Johnny as a guy who would ask his girlfriend to marry him in front of a bunch of people though. I mean, I don’t know. Since we’re in a...a fivesome, does that mean we won’t get married one day? Or if we do, will they all ask me? Or do I ask them?
My cheeks heat, so I shake those thoughts away.
“It was just a pretty ring that I wanted to get her.”
“I love it,” I say, squeezing his thigh.
Some of the tension leaves his shoulders. He looks up at me with hopeful eyes. “Can I put it on you?”
I turn toward him. Oscar immediately runs his fingers down my back. I can feel him looking over my shoulder as Johnny takes the pretty ring from the box and places it on the ring finger of my right hand. It glides down smoothly. “I don’t think I want to know how you knew the size of my finger just by looking at it.”
He shakes his head. “You’re the only girl who’s ever meant enough to me to buy something like this for. No one even came close, babe.”
I wiggle my finger around, letting the overhead light play off the stones. I don’t think I’ve ever owned something so gorgeous before. My personality might say that I’m not into jewelry. I like to fight. I like to sweat. But apparently, I also like shiny things because whoever wants to pry this off my finger will have to do so over my cold, dead body.
Johnny wraps his fingers in mine.
“It’s pretty,” Mag says.
I drop my hand to my joggers and start to laugh. “I’m totally wearing the wrong outfit for this ring,” I joke.
“You look good in anything,” Brawler says. “You look sexy in your training outfits.”
“Hot as fuck naked,” Oscar adds.
“Beautiful in club clothes,” Johnny purrs.
“Black,” Mag adds. “You need more black.”
We all start laughing, and I’m glad the earlier tension has dissipated. I don’t want to have to spend Christmas worried that the guys are unhappy in some way.