Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“Better?” he murmurs.
I let my head fall back against the cushion. “Yes.” It comes out breathy and a little too much like what I gasped when he was inside me, and his brother was playing with my clit.
His mouth curves slightly, but he doesn’t push it. He keeps going with perfect pressure.
In the kitchen, I can hear Brookes moving quietly, the sounds of chopping carrying through the space between us.
For the first time all day, my thoughts start to slow.
The panic is still there. The uncertainty hasn’t gone anywhere.
But I no longer feel like a plastic bottle tossing back and forth in the ocean. The appearance of these men has given me an anchor of sorts. They said the word options, then Brookes made a light suggestion and left it with me.
I could take some time off. Give myself the time and space to think this through.
Maybe it’s a good idea.
By the time we’re sitting around the table with plates in front of us, I’m in awe. Brookes has rustled up a pasta dish that smells restaurant-quality. Mason pours me water and passes me bread as Brookes spoons a large helping into the bowl in front of me. I look at them, and it’s like I’m seeing them for the first time.
Mason has at least a day's worth of growth on his face, and Brookes has tired smudges beneath his eyes. They’ve lost the varnish of our lust-filled night, and become entirely human in my eyes, and somehow even more impressive.
It was supposed to be one night. A delicious mistake that I could giggle about in years to come. A moment where I let my hair down for a fleeting but awesome night of passion. The weeks that have passed have given them an almost mythical glow that has slipped away in the bright yellow light of my kitchen.
But sitting here now, with Mason’s knee brushing mine under the table and Brookes watching me like he’s ready to respond to my every need, I can’t help thinking about what they’d be like as fathers and partners. Brookes would be great at explaining how things work, and being patient when emotions ran high. Mason would be high energy and fun. The parent who’d be able to keep control while making sure everyone had what they needed. They’ve shown that they’re empathetic and calm in crisis. That they’ll listen and support me and try to understand my concerns. They’ve shown that they’re so much more than I was prepared to give them credit for.
But they still won’t be good enough in Mom’s eyes.
Maybe one of them might have a small chance of proving himself. But two of them?
They’ll always be perverts for wanting to share, and I’ll become the degenerate daughter who lets her down when it counts.
They won’t be able to face their friends or hold their head up in the community.
“Let me ask you something,” Brookes says. “If you had a totally free choice to do whatever you wanted, what would you do?”
I blink at him.
“With work,” he clarifies. “With your life. The baby. Us. If nothing else was pushing on you, what would your life look like?”
I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out, because I’ve never really thought about it like that.
There’s always been a ‘right path’. A sensible one. A version of my life that fits neatly into other people's expectations.
The idea of choosing because I want it feels… unfamiliar and radical. Am I so lacking in imagination and so shackled by other people's thoughts that I don’t even know how I feel?
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Mason leans back slightly, watching me. “That’s okay.”
“It isn’t something I’ve had to decide before.”
Brookes nods. “Then you don’t have to decide it tonight either.”
Free choice.
His words sit quietly in my mind, unfamiliar and overwhelming. I feel like I’m facing that puzzle with the doors and the goats, except behind every door is a baby I haven’t even had a chance to want. A baby I’ve already pictured in my mind, despite working hard not to. A baby who could look like either of the good men around me.
Free choice.
Nothing in life comes for free. And choice is always an illusion.
Chapter 9
Mason
Janey stands in the doorway of her little den, looking soft and worn out in her scrubs, glancing at the window and the darkness outside, and quietly says, “It’s late. You don’t have to drive back tonight… if you want to stay.”
Brookes and I don’t even pretend to hesitate.
It feels intimate and domesticated to climb the narrow stairs behind her. The things we’ve done together don’t wipe away the unfamiliarity that has filled the space between us over the past few weeks.
All I can think about is holding her. I keep wishing we’d found a way to convince her to meet up with us for that date. At least then, she’d know how much we wanted her before we found out about the baby. We’d be further along before finding out such a mind-bending piece of news.