Page 28 of Three Bossy Boyfriends (Honeysuckle Harbor #3)

We arrive at the market and spend a few minutes wandering up and down the wide lanes lined with booths selling everything from jewelry to soap to jelly.

Eventually, we decide on scones, jam, and mini muffins that look and smell amazing. Christopher also chooses two different yogurts, an entire fruit basket, and three different kinds of ground coffee.

“There are three of us,” I laugh as the woman bags the freshly ground coffee. “You act like you have an entire party coming for brunch.”

He only grins. “I just want my guests to feel treated and eager to come back.”

I’m already eager to come back, and I know that’s not an option. I feel that familiar squeeze in my chest.

He takes my hand as we leave the coffee counter.

“Your family probably does big, huge brunches, right?” he asks.

I laugh. “My family does everything big and huge.”

“I can see that. So you understand where I’m coming from when I say I want to fill up my house and make it a home.”

Oh, well… “I understand wanting people around,” I say. “But it is possible to be in a huge house full of people and still feel lonely.”

He stops. Right in the middle of one of the lanes. Someone behind us grumbles as they step around us.

“Finley.”

I shouldn’t have said that. I look up at him. “I just mean, I understand what you say about wanting to fill it with certain people. Special people.”

He shakes his head, and I know he’s not going to let me get away with that comment without more explanation. “You’re lonely when you’re with your family?”

“Sometimes,” I admit. “I know they love me. But I’m the oddball. And it’s often very obvious.”

He just studies me for a moment, then looks around and pulls me to the side around the back corner of a stand selling candles and essential oils.

“Tell me about your family,” he says.

“You know them.” I shift uncomfortably.

I shouldn’t have said anything. Christopher is my boss. And the guy I had sex with last night. One time. It was a hot fantasy that is not going to be repeated. But he’s not my friend. And he’s not my boyfriend. And he’s not my therapist.

“I do know them,” he says. “I know your dad very well. He’s a good guy. And I’ve met your sisters and mom. They all seem wonderful. And I know they love you. Help me understand what you’re feeling.”

I look into his eyes and I see that he means this. He really wants to understand.

I blow out a breath. “I’m a triplet. That’s a little unusual.

So we’ve always gotten attention. But then it’s immediately obvious that I’m the one that doesn’t…

match. My sisters are identical. And they’re beautiful and sweet and everyone likes them.

They’re easy to get along with. They don’t rock the boat.

They find it easy to fit into any crowd.

So then it became even more obvious, especially as we got older, that not only do I not look like them, but I don’t act like them.

And it was always ‘Oh, the Anderson triplets. Yeah, Frannie and Fiona are those two pretty blondes…and then there’s Finley.

’” I take a breath. “I guess as we got older I decided to lean into it. Instead of ‘Oh, and then there’s Finley’, I decided to make it, ‘Oh, and then there’s Finley .

’ If they were going to think I was different anyway, I decided to be really different. ”

Christopher frowns, but he’s smiling. He seems confused. “Exactly. So everyone treats you exactly the way you want them to.”

I frown back at him. “I don’t want to be treated like I’m weird.”

He laughs. “You stand out on purpose. You push back against all of the things that make your sisters blend in. You’ve decided to stand out.

You’ve decided to go against the grain and fuck the rules.

And then you feel misunderstood when people say that you go against the grain and the rules?

I don’t think so. You are in control of this narrative, Finley. ”

I narrow my eyes, but…of course Christopher is going to call me on my b.s.

I should have expected that. Evan is too sweet.

Tucker is a little scared of me, and my sisters don’t see this.

I don’t have any other close friends who really know me.

But this guy? Yeah, not only is he incredibly smart and insightful, he also pays attention—something I’m not really used to in the men I date, apparently (how sad is that?)—and he’s not at all afraid to be upfront with me about, well, anything.

“I just want my family to think it’s okay to go against the grain and fuck the rules sometimes. The dumb rules, anyway. I want them to support me. I want them to say ‘We’re proud of who you are.’”

“Have they ever said they’re not proud of you?”

I press my lips together.

“Finley.” He moves in closer, forcing me to tip my head to look up at him. “Has your family ever said that they’re not proud of you, or that they want you to be different?”

“No, not in so many words,” I admit. “But they think I’m messy. Complicated. They think I do things the hard way.”

“You do,” he says simply.

I widen my eyes. “You agree that I’m messy?”

“Yes. Exactly the way you want to be,” he says.

“You come into a corporate law office and say you’re not going to wear high heels and you stomp around in slippers instead.

But not just basic, boring slippers. Jack Skellington slippers.

You know people are going to notice that and think it’s weird. It’s why you do it.

“You’re a paralegal, and you bitch constantly about having to fill in spreadsheets and file paperwork. That’s the whole job. But you make spreadsheet your safe word during sex because you’ll never accidentally say that word.

“You showed up late to the exam and you act like everyone is working against you because you weren’t able to take it when you wanted to.

But you knew walking into that exam late that they weren’t going to let you take it.

And you knew that you would just have to kill time for a few months, and take it the next time, and that you’d kick ass at it. ”

He moves closer and lifts his hand, cupping my cheek.

“I think the world, and your family, are seeing you exactly the way that you want them to. They’re seeing the woman that you’re showing them.

That puts you in control. You could be exactly like your sisters if you wanted to be.

You could be sweeter and even more accommodating if that’s what you wanted.

But you don’t. You choose to be the gorgeous, strong, sassy brat.

Because that’s who you want to be. They didn’t put that on you.

You did. If you want them to see you in another way, show them something else. ”

He strokes his thumb along my jaw. “But also know this—there are two men who are about to have brunch with you, who think that you are amazing. Who see you, who think what they already know is amazing, but who know there’s more and who want to see all the sides and layers to you.

Two men who would love to be with you, in all kinds of settings, knowing that what you show the world is only a small piece of the real you, but that they get the absolute honor of knowing all of you. ”

I look up at him. I let all of that sink in. And it sinks in easily. I feel like it melts into my bones. I feel warm, and lighter.

Christopher sees me. I should have known that he would. Not only because he is incredibly intelligent and older, and mature, but because he’s really looked.

I believe him when he says he wants to know all my layers.

He already knows that there’s insecurity and some immaturity and, yes, some mess under there.

And he likes me anyway. He wants me to have brunch with him and his boyfriend, anyway. And maybe even more than that.

He’s making it very difficult for me to not have a crush on my boss.

“Thanks for last night. I had a really great time,” I say.

He smiles a triumphant smile. Then he leans in and brushes his lips over mine. “I am very happy to hear that Miss Anderson.”