Page 10 of Theirs for the Holidays

Violet’s dad clears his throat, and Isabelle whispers something in Andrew’s ear. Their mom looks flustered, but she shakes herself and claps her hands brightly.

“Well, it’s been a lovely evening, hasn’t it?” she says, forcing cheer into her tone. “It’s getting late, and I know we all have a lot to be getting on with this time of year. Why don’t we call it a night?”

There’s a collective feeling of relief, or maybe it’s just how I feel and I’m projecting it on everyone else. Either way, people start to get up to get ready to leave.

Mr. Bentley gets up and helps his wife clear the dishes from the table, and the rest of us start to move to the hallway to get coats and bags and get the hell out of here.

I can’t help but notice the way Andrew makes a show of pulling Isabelle into his arms to kiss her—like he’s trying to make sure he’s not one upped or something.

I roll my eyes. It’s very him, and it’s pathetic.

Mrs. Bentley stands around while we pull our coats on, and she glances between me and my brothers. “You all didn’t book hotels, did you?” she asks. “I can’t imagine the expense this time of year. Or… are you all staying with Violet?”

There’s a beat of silence while we process that, and Violet glances at me, Lennox, and Rhett. There’s a flash of panic in her eyes, and then she takes a breath. “Yup. They’re all staying with me.”

5

VIOLET

Oh my god.

Oh mygod.

How did this happen?

How did this go from me having dinner at my parents’ house to finding out that my ex’s brothers are back in town for the first time in a while, to me somehowdating all three of them?

I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles are white, staring at the road. No matter how I arrange the events of the night in my head, it still doesn’t make sense.

I could have just said sure, take away my plus one. I could have said I was bringing a friend. I could have done anything else. And so could the older Sullivan brothers. They didn’t have to leap to my defense like this, tangling us all up in this lie, but they did.

They did, and now they seem determined to sell it.

And god. Thinking about that leads to me thinking about the kisses. Plural. Because they all kissed me. And they weren’t just little pecks either. Those were Kisses with a capital K. Each one intense and different, just like the three men who gave them.

Clearly none of them do anything by half.

I reach up, brushing my fingers over my lip, and a little shiver goes through me at the memory. Sawyer’s fingers in my hair, Lennox’s thumb dragging along my bottom lip, Rhett’s hand gripping my jaw. My lips still feel a bit swollen, and my body tingles with the phantom feeling of them touching me.

Someone passes me in a blur, and I shake myself, refocusing on the road. And the problem at hand.

I was prepared to own up to lying, but the three of them decided to stop me, so now we’re all in this. We’re going to have to keep it up, at least until Isabelle and Andrew’s wedding is over, and they all go back to their lives. That includes them staying with me while they’re in town.

I have no idea where they were planning on staying before, but after we left dinner, the three of them agreed to get their stuff so they could bring it to my place.

Which doesn’t give me a whole lot of time.

As soon as I get home, I get out of my car, listening to it wheeze and tick as it cools down. Even in the winter it’s prone to overheating, and I’m crossing my fingers that it will hold up until spring, when I’ll have a little extra money to throw at it.

My house is definitely not big enough for four grown adults to share. It’s cute and enough space for me, but it has one bedroom, and a decently sized living room to offer. I run through with a bag, gathering anything that doesn’t belong in the living room.

It’s not super messy, but I’ve been busy the last couple of weeks, so it’s definitely got a ‘lived in’ thing going on. I gather the jackets and shirts that were thrown over a chair in the living room, as well as the magazine on the coffee table, still open to the ‘what’s your love language’ quiz I was taking the other night.

Empty coffee cups go in the sink, and I stuff the half-eaten box of Mallomars into a cabinet.

Anything that seems too personal for my three soon-to-be houseguests to see gets put away in my room. I swear under my breath when I catch sight of the two vibrators on my nightstand, quickly shoving them in a drawer under a pile of sweaters.

It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough for short notice, and that’s just going to have to do.