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Page 77 of Five

It’s with some regret that I finally rouse myself. I amble to the bathroom and fetch a cloth to clean her up before reaching for my clothes and preparing to leave.

“Don’t go,” she mumbles, sleepily, looking at me from beneath heavy eyelids.

“Are you sure? I don’t want the guys to think you’re playing favorites if we spend the night together, alone.”

She reaches for my hand and pulls me to her. “I’m sure none of us know what this relationship is going to look like yet. But you know what, Remi? There are no rules here. We’ve already broken them all, so it can be whatever we want it to be. Whatever we choose to make it.”

I drop a kiss to her swollen lips and climb into bed, snuggling her to me now that cuddly Remi is back in the room.

Neve sighs contentedly and drops an absent kiss onto my shoulder, a satisfied smile gracing her lips.

I nuzzle into her hair, feeling at peace. For the first time since she arrived, I can’t wait to see what a future with her will bring.

I just pray it’s something we can all live with.

Nineteen

Neve

Mood:Giddyasfuck.FUDGE.

Jamie Fraser meows at me as I stand in front of the mirror, pulling my wet hair into a twist with a claw clip. I woke early this morning despite the late night, full of energy and the need to see my men.

My men.It has a nice ring to it. And I guess they are mine…right? That’s what we’ve been inching toward this entire time.

Although maybe we’re not inching so much as hurtling forward.

Remi was gone when I awoke, the side of the bed he slept on cold. Hopefully, he just needed to get up early to prepare breakfast or something and there’s nothing wrong. It’s possible Jamie Fraser woke him up licking his neck like he does mine when he decides it’s time for breakfast. Or maybe I snored all night. I certainly slept heavy enough to do so, relishing in the feel of his arm around my waist as I snuggled back into his chest.

Jamie Fraser rises on his hind legs like a dog and leans into a stretch against my thigh, his claws sinking into the leggings I put on after my shower. He chirps at me, plaintive.

Ek ek ek.

“Meow,” I tell him, bending to rub his head.

I have no idea what I said, but he drops to his haunches and sits in front of the bathroom, tail swishing. If a cat’s expression can look expectant, his does. I’m not making it out without dealing with him first, my little prima donna.

Mreowww.

I level a look at him. “Baby, you really don’t want to know what Mom has been getting up to. It’s…so dirty. Trust me.”

I give him one last scratch behind the ears and exit, leaving the door cracked so he can wander around.

My suite of rooms is on the main floor, a short walk through what once was a lobby and now acts as a kind of family room, with comfortable couches and a huge television that I can imagine putting to use for movie nights. Just past that is the dining area, which links to the kitchen and the terrace where we have been taking our meals. Filmy drapes hang at the edges of the floor-to-ceiling windows, most of which open to the terrace outside with its rocking chairs and arched openings.

The atmosphere is serene and comfortable and so utterlyhomelikethat I have to remind myself I’ve only been here for a matter of days.

As I near the main dining room, I catch a glimpse of breakfast, set up inside today at the massive round booth that dominates the room. A peek through the windows shows me why—rain pours down in thick sheets, and the wind whips the foliage visible through the windows with bracing gusts. It’s a miserable day.

Inside, though, it’s sunny. Lights shine brightly against the gloom, including electric paper lanterns hung around the dining area at intervals like a galaxy of suns. Music plays from hidden speakers, something fun and up-tempo.

Kokomo.

I smile at the gentle irony and look around. I’m the first to appear, but Remi is obviously in the middle of bringing everything in for us. It looks like he’s chosen oatmeal for today’s breakfast, setting up a bar of sorts with all the necessary toppings and condiments at a massive semi-circular booth in the corner of the room.

I sit down on the green leather, taking stock of the fruit, nuts, and sugars Remi has laid out for us on a lazy Susan in the center of the table. It looks delicious, and I pour myself a cup of coffee from the carafe as I wait for someone to join me.

Oliver is the first to arrive. I bite my lip at the sight of the reading glasses perched on his face. A pair of glasses on an attractive man is a weakness I hadn’t realized I had until him and Cope. The spectacles make him look ever more the brilliant author, but the lean athleticism of his frame is a sexy contradiction that speaks to me.