Page 115 of Monarch

Mari looks up again. “You are not doing mine.”

“Why not? It’s my design!”

“Lex, you are an award-winning multimedia artist, but you don’t need to be an expert inallart. Let me have this one. Go on, be generous.”

I suppress a laugh. It used to physically pain me to watch them bicker like this, but now…now it makes my heart swell with love.

“Fine,” Lex concedes. “But I’m going to take her mouth.”

And xe leans over and kisses me, xir piercings digging into my bottom lip as Mari tuts and protests and somehow keeps tattooing my skin. Lex swallows my giggles and my smiles, and even though I have a needle vibrating against my skin and I’m being crushed by two solid bodies, I have never, ever been happier.

Chapter Fifty

Mari

Ihadn’t expected to cry on the phone with my dads, but I also hadn’t expected to fall in love with a beautiful Dutch girl and the ex who haunted me for ten years. I wipe my tears on the back of my hand but then realise it’s probably pointless. Because now I have to call my mum and Dove.

“Mari,” Mum answers after the second ring. “How are you?”

I think about all the times in my life my mother has asked me that question. I’ve probably answered it a thousand different ways over the years, but never before have I given her the answer that leaves my mouth today.

“I’m really fucking good, Mum,” I say with a contented sigh. “I really, really am.”

Right on cue, shrieks and giggles and shouts emerge from the kitchen down the corridor. Lex is cooking us dinner, and Roos went in there to give me privacy while I called my parents. Something tells me they’ve become slightly distracted, and it brings the biggest grin to my face. I love hearing them laugh together. I love hearing and watching and feeling them love each other. When I first opened my mind, and later my heart, to polyamory, I never expected that my love for their love would eclipse any hint of jealousy, but it does. My goodness, it does.

“It’s why I’m calling, actually,” I continue.

“Oh?”

“Is Dove there?” I ask, already knowing the answer. It’s eight o’clock on a wintery Thursday evening. I know with almost onehundred percent certainty that they’re curled up on the couch together, Dove reading a book, and my mum on her phone or drawing on her tablet. “Put me on speaker phone.”

“Okay,” Mum says, and there’s a moment of rustling and hushed conversation between them.

“Hey, Mari!” Dove says cheerily.

“Hey, Dove.” I smile. It’s hard to name who Dove is to me. Not quite a second mother, she’s more than a friend, and a sister is all wrong. She’s just Dove. The woman who makes my mother infinitely happy. And one of only a few handfuls of people I never want to be without. One thing is for certain: Dove is family.

“What’s going on?” Mum asks, not one for patience at the best of times.

I pull in a long breath. “I’m calling to tell you I’m staying in Amsterdam for Christmas.”

There’s a silent pause. I imagine them looking at each other, but I don’t know what their expressions would reveal. Shock, sadness, disappointment?

“Why? Were you planning on coming back?” Mum asks, and I hear confusion in her tone.

“Well, yeah. It’s Christmas,” I explain. We always spend Christmas together. I came back last year, and I’ve spent every other Christmas Day with Mum.

Another beat of silence.

“Yeah, but we know it will be your first Christmas with Roos and Lex.” Dove emits a nervous giggle. “We just assumed you were going to stay.”

“You did?”

“Well, yeah,” Mum confirms. “Why would you come back?”

I don’t know whether to feel hurt they don’t even seem remotely upset or happy that they’re already ten steps ahead of me.

“Because I said I would. And you guys are my family, my home.”