Page 274 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

I don’t remember how I make it out of there. I think I keep my voice light as I thank them for everything. “If Club M had a Dominant rating system, you guys would be a ten,” I say flippantly.

I pretend I don’t notice the hurt in Theo’s eyes. I tell myself Shane doesn’t flinch at my tone.

They’ve always made me feel cared for after a session. They’re good at that. But tonight, it’s a little too much. I feel fragile and brittle. If they so much as look at me the wrong way, I will shatter.

Instead of falling apart, I run away.

The presents start to arrive the next day. On the first day, it’s chocolate. Chocolate bars, hot chocolate, tiny marshmallows, and so much more. I get a text from Theo not long after the delivery guy drops it off. Good luck with the book deadline, it says. I’m rooting for you.

That same afternoon, someone knocks on my door. It’s Lewis, the security guard who usually staffs the front desk. He’s holding a couple of plastic bags, which he hands me. I take them, bewildered.

They’re tacos. Shane sends me an accompanying text. Don’t forget to eat, he writes. Take a break from your computer and have a taco or two.

What the hell are they doing?

The next day brings a silky emerald-green robe from Theo and gyros from Shane. I didn’t forget about dessert, he texts. I’m not stupid. I hope you like baklava.

I love baklava. Adore it. But again, what the hell? What are they trying to do? I want to write to them and ask, but I don’t.

Tuesday, it’s a scented candle and more chocolate. Don’t want you to run out, Theo says.

Wednesday, there’s a snowstorm outside, but I sit in front of my fireplace in my new robe and eat a steaming bowl of ramen, the latest delivery.

My dessert fix is provided by a dozen boxes of Pocky.

There’s the standard chocolate cream flavor but also strawberry, matcha, mango, chocolate banana, maple, and orange peel.

The orange peel box has Japanese lettering, and I learn from the Internet that the flavor is only sold in Japan.

They’ve shipped me Pocky from Japan. I’ve been too much of a coward to text them back, but this gesture pushes me to take a leap. Thank you for the Pocky, I text . Stunningly imaginative, I know. Not like I’m a writer or anything. Why are you sending me presents?

Think of it as an Advent calendar, Theo replies.

An Advent calendar. I’d stared at the one at Taco Gus for a moment too long, Shane asked me about it, and now I’m getting presents.

We got a bit of a late start, he adds.

Is that why I’m getting more than one present a day?

Sure. But sometimes, Shane and I don’t always agree on what to get. When that happens, you get both, obviously.

Obviously.

Conflicting emotions are tearing me apart. I want to protect my heart, yet I don’t want to give them up. I’m scared of relationships; I wish I hadn’t sent them away.

I should tell them to stop. I should tell them I made my decision, and that’s all there is to it. But I don’t. I want to keep the door open. I want to be persuaded.

Thursday’s gift is a box from Tiffany. This is too much, I text them even before I open the distinctive blue box.

You don’t like it? Shane asks.

I haven’t opened it, I confess.

Maybe you should.

It’s a bracelet, the kind you hang charms from. I stare at the miniature typewriter charm, the coffee mug, the writing pad, the laptop, and the opened book, and I feel a lump rise in my throat. This isn’t something shiny and expensive and impersonal. This took effort.

All their gifts have.

The door cracks open a little wider. The ground on the other side of the precipice softens. The leap seems fractionally less terrifying.

Even so, I hesitate.

The presents keep coming.

On Christmas Eve, I walk into the playroom again, remembering that fateful day two years ago.

Elliot died on the last day of November.

Nobody remembered to call the decorator and cancel.

I came back from the hospital, my heart aching, and I stepped into a Christmas tableau.

Yulia’s theme that year had been a winter bazaar.

Decorations overflowed everywhere. I walked into the condo and looked around at the bright colors, at the thousand little details that formed her vision, and I wanted to throw up.

My mother had grudgingly invited me to Christmas that year.

Part of me wanted to go, but I knew what I’d hear.

My mother would rehash old arguments. He was too old for you, she would say.

What did you think would happen? If it wasn’t cancer, it would have been something else.

You should have found someone your own age.

My father would have grunted in agreement, never taking his eyes off the TV.

I’d declined her invitation and stayed in Manhattan, and I’d never felt more alone.

That loneliness pales compared to the way I feel now.

I haven’t heard from Theo and Shane all day.

They’ve probably given up on me, and I don’t blame them.

Or they’re busy with their families. At least, Theo will be.

He told me that his sister gave birth in October.

It’s going to be Baby Olivia’s first Christmas.

That first Christmas after Elliot died, I didn't want to go to my parents because my mother would have been wrong. Even in my grief-stricken state, I knew that Elliott had been worth it. It was better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all.

When did that change? When did I lose that certainty?

I trail my fingers over the leather of the spanking bench. I remember every sensation from this room. Every touch. I'm prepared for a wave of grief to wash over me, but it doesn't come.

Instead, I feel Elliott's presence. It's not the man ravaged by cancer. It's my Dom again, and he's staring at me, steel in his eyes. Kitten, he says. This is unacceptable. Enough hiding. Life is precious and fleeting, and I expect you to get on with it.

The shrill ring of my phone jerks me from my reverie. Xavier's number flashes on the display. I thought he was in Thailand. With a frown, I pick up. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you supposed to be in Bangkok?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he replies. “And no, I'm not in Bangkok. I am downstairs, double-parked outside your building.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s Christmas Eve, and you shouldn't be alone. I called you yesterday, and you swiped me to voicemail. I had to take matters into my own hands. Grab a change of clothes and come on down.”

I blink. “Umm, what?”

“Christmas party at the castle,” he says. “Oh, and Layla's here.”

“What?” I yelp. Layla is Xavier's long-lost love. If she's here. . . “Is this a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing.” Somebody honks behind Xavier, and he mutters a curse under his breath. “Addie, for fuck’s sake. Hurry up.”

Xavier’s offer is a vast improvement over staying in my highly decorated condo and ordering Chinese takeout. It would be brilliant to see Layla again. “I don’t want to get in the middle of your reunion.”

“You won’t,” he says, his voice impatient. “I told you, it’s a party. There are a dozen people there. Julian, Maggie, Anton, Ellie, and Alexander?—”

Stop hiding, kitten. “I'll be down in five.”

I slide into the passenger seat. We get underway. Once we're on the highway, Xavier gives me a sidelong glance. “Have you heard from Theo and Shane?” he asks, his voice casual.

Xavier is as curious as a cat. It's tempting to thwart his obvious desire to know what happened between the three of us, but if there is anyone that will help me make sense of the situation, it's my friend. “They've been sending me Advent presents.”

“Huh?”

“Do you know what an Advent calendar is?” He nods. “Well, there was an Advent calendar at Taco Gus, and I commented on it. They noticed. They've been sending me presents every day, twenty-four in total. The last one arrived this morning.” A gloriously soft, green cashmere sweater.

“And?”

“They wanted to see me again. I said no.”

“Why?”

I sigh. “Come on, Xavier. Can you imagine what the tabloids would say? Besides, they live in the UK, and I live here.”

“You're a writer,” he points out. “You can work from anywhere. How is your book going, by the way?”

I grimace. “Terrible.” I wrote well when Theo and Shane were here, but I've been blocked since they've been gone.

“Hmm.”

“You're not going to say anything?”

He shrugs. “Addie, you know what you need to do.

Elliott wouldn't have wanted you to mourn forever.

If you're interested in them, tell them.

If there's something there, explore it. Theo and Shane are good guys. I know and like both of them. When Shane called me about the employee-only elevator, and when Theo ran around town looking for?—”

My head snaps up. “Shane called you about the employee-only elevator?”

Xavier looks puzzled. “Yes. Club members are not typically allowed to use them. There are no cameras there.”

“But Shane asked you to let me use it,” I repeat. “That wasn't your idea?”

He shakes his head. “No. I should have thought about it, but I was preoccupied.”

Oh. The first time I used the employee elevators was before our first scene. They barely knew me. We hadn’t slept together. But even then, they saw me.

Then the rest of Xavier's words penetrate. “When Theo ran around town, you said? When Theo ran around town doing what? What's the rest of that sentence?”

“The bedroom,” Xavier replies. “The room in the club, the one you didn’t use. Nothing about it rang a bell?”

It's my turn to frown. “It looked familiar.”

My friend rolls his eyes. “Authors,” he says. “It was a scene from your book.”

What? My mouth falls open. Shock ricochets through me. I grab my phone and open my reading app. I find my book and flip through the pages until I locate the scene he's talking about.

I'd forgotten the details. My protagonist Minnie had a perfect night with a guy. When she woke up the next morning, the voices in her head were gone, and she felt an unexpected sense of peace.

I read the description of the room, and it all matches. The fireplace. The four-poster bed, the pale pink duvet, the masses of pink roses on every flat surface.

“Theo did that?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

And I rejected it. Because I wanted to be safe.

They saw me. They see me. They kept in touch. There's still a chance, right? I glance at my phone. It's a little after five. “What time is it in London?”

“Ten?” Xavier replies vaguely. “Eleven? I think the UK is five hours ahead.”

Eleven then. “It's too late to call.” It’s Christmas Eve. Theo will be spending it with family. “They took care of me, Xavier. They both did. Not just during the session. And I pushed them away.”

I was a fool. But I’m going to fix this. Tomorrow morning, first thing in the morning, I'm going to call them. Even though it’s Christmas Day.

The miles fly by, and the car pulls into the driveway. Xavier lets me out at the front. “Go on ahead,” he says. “The party’s in my office. I’ll be right behind you. I need to talk to Henry first.”

“Because I love walking into a party by myself,” I grumble.

Xavier rolls his eyes again.

“Fine,” I huff. “But only because I haven’t seen Layla in ages.”

But when I get to Xavier’s office and open the door, I don't walk into a party.

Two men turn around. Two achingly familiar men. Theo and Shane. They’re here.

I blink and rub my eyes, but they’re really here. They’re not a figment of my imagination. “But you should be in London and Dublin,” I say stupidly. “It’s Christmas Eve. What are you doing here?”

“I see my family all the time,” Theo replies. “I thought about where I wanted to be, and it wasn’t in a place. It was with a person. I wanted to spend Christmas with you, Addie.”

Hope wars with disbelief. “But Baby Olivia. It’s her first Christmas.”

Theo snorts. “Olivia is a newborn. She sleeps, eats, and shits. She certainly doesn’t understand Christmas.”

Shane clears his throat. “Xavier said he wouldn’t bring you here unless he thought you wanted to be here,” he says, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

I don’t want. . .” He shakes his head. “I know you have all kinds of reasons this can’t be, and I'm sure they’re all very good.

But I can't stop thinking that this could be amazing if you gave it a chance. We could be amazing, Addie. The three of us.”

Before I met Theo and Shane, I was frozen. I remember Xavier’s precise words. I’m a writer, and it had been a clever turn of phrase, one I wished I had written. Bitterness sits on you like an ill-fitting cloak, Addie.

I throw off that cloak and wrap myself in their warmth. I kiss Theo and then Shane, and I luxuriate in the sheer intimacy of the moment. I hadn’t allowed myself to kiss them. Until now. It feels amazing.

Eventually, I pull myself free. “I have to warn you,” I tell them. “I’m behind on my book. I’m going to spend the next ten days in front of my laptop.”

“But you’ll spend your nights with us?” Shane asks. I nod. His smile widens, as does Theo’s. “I can live with that.”

“In that case,” I say, hugging them tightly again. “Let’s go be amazing.”

Thank you for reading One Night with my Lawyers.