The lyrics are so angsty I feel every word, from the curl of my fingers to the flick of my head. My skinny jeans restrict the energy that vibrates to let loose, but as the music melts through me, I’m possessed by it, swaying and jerking to the tempo that circulates through my blood and dominates my muscles.
My hands rove over my body, caressing each joint and encouraging every deep bend. By the time the song ends, I’m breathing lighter. My insides feel softer, and there’s a warmth in my core that wasn’t there before. A peace that connects me to life. And love.
Five minutes later, I stand in the living room with my arms at my sides and a steady flow of confidence in my veins.
Trace and Cole settle into opposite corners of the couch, both fully dressed. Trace, with his face now shaved and hair slicked back and textured. Cole, in a white t-shirt and jeans, with whiskers darkening his cheeks and raw intensity in his eyes.
“Before I get into this, I need you to answer something.” I hold up my left hand and meet Cole’s gaze. “You put this ring on my finger. Twice. Is it safe to assume you still want to marry me?”
“Yes.” He leans forward, expression aglow with eagerness. “You’re my heart, Danni. I can’t live without you.”
I swallow and look at Trace. “I’m still wearing your ring. Do you—?”
“I’ll marry you today. Right now.” Trace licks his lips, his eyes wide and unblinking. “My path has never been this clear, my future never so beautiful.”
“Thank you.” My stomach flutters. “I’m just going to talk through this, because I really don’t know what I’m going to say.” I flex and relax my hands. “Just…let me speak without interrupting me, okay?”
They’re both perched on the edge of their cushions. Cole shifts first, seemingly forcing himself to recline and loosen up. A heartbeat later, Trace follows suit.
“The way I see it, I have three options.” I stare down at my hand. “Option one. I return one of these rings and end that relationship. Then I plan a wedding with the one I keep.”
A wave of tension ripples through the room, and my pulse goes erratic. I breathe through it and continue.
“Option two. I return both rings and start over. Without you.” I glance between them, meeting their hardening gazes. “We go our separate ways, or at least, I do. I like to think you two could resolve your differences in that scenario.”
Cole works his jaw, and Trace’s mouth forms a flat line. I can tell they’re chomping at the bit to speak up, but they respect my wishes and remain silent.
“Option three.” I twist the bands on my finger, my throat scratchy. “I return both rings and start over. With you. Both of you.”
Cole adjusts his position, leaning forward then back while rubbing a hand over his mouth. Trace is still—calmly, eerily frozen.
I don’t want their reactions to influence me, because Bree’s right. Whatever choice I make should reflect who I am, not who they are.
“Part of me wants to put these options up for a vote.” I draw in a steeling breath and strengthen my backbone. “But I’m not going to do that. I’m going to put on my big girl pants and tell you how it’s going to be. Can you live with that?”
Their nods are stiff, but what shines from their eyes threatens to knock my feet out from under me. Pride, respect, loyalty—it’s all there in bright sheens of love. There’s a chance I’m about to destroy one or both of their worlds, and they still have it in them to look at me with admiration.
I grip the engagement rings, eyes on my trembling fingers as I rotate the bands around and around, aching to keep them right where they are.
Love has been good to me. It’s also been vicious and cruel. I don’t know what it plans to do to my heart next, but there’s a blessed kind of comfort in knowing it isn’t finished with me. I have to give up one of the men I love, but I don’t have to give up on love altogether.
I remove the first ring from my finger and hold it out to Cole. He sucks in a breath, and another, refusing to take it. His face turns stark white, and a horrified look seeps into his eyes.
I set it on the coffee table before him and slide off the second ring, offering it to Trace.
Trace’s throat bobs, and a tremor races through his fingers as he reaches for the band.
“I choose option three.” Nervousness crops up in my voice. “I want to start over. I want to date both of you.”
Tension visibly loosens from Cole’s shoulders, and he exhales softly.
Trace is harder to read. He closes his hand around the ring, and an indiscernible quietness falls over him. If he’s upset, I don’t blame him. He went from blissfully happy and engaged to this frightening place of uncertainty. In a way, it feels like I’m breaking up with him, and it makes my stomach erupt with dread.
“What’s the living arrangement?” Trace asks, low and hushed. “If you’re dating both of us.”
In my mind, dating two men requires separation. I need to be with them individually, not crammed together under the same roof.
“You’re moving back to the penthouse.” I lift my chin, bracing for an argument.
“And him?” Trace scowls at Cole and turns his glare back to me.
“Cole can get his own place or stay in the basement—”
“He’s not staying here!” Trace leaps to his feet, hands on his hips. “You’re not going to shack up with him while I—”
“Sit down and let me finish.” My shoulders tense as I wait for him to lower onto the couch. “I spend half of my waking hours at the casino, where you live. We’ve been going back and forth between here and your penthouse for months. I’m okay with continuing doing that for a while. But…” I narrow my eyes at both of them. “I’m not sleeping with you. Dating two men is complicated. Adding sex to this would be a disaster.”
As my words sink in, silence creeps through the living room, heavy with apprehension and maybe a little bit of relief. I’m doing this to give myself time, but it gives them time, too.
“For how long?” Cole lifts his head and meets my eyes. “How long will you date us?”
“Until I know.”
My chest feels like a lead balloon as I stand on the front porch, watching Trace put the last of his belongings in the trunk of the sedan.
I keep telling myself this isn’t the end. It’s the beginning of a new chapter. But if that’s true, why does it hurt so much?
Cole made himself scarce while Trace and his driver cleared his clothes out of my closet. I think it’s the first time any of Trace’s employees have been inside my house. It’s weird. Hell, this entire situation is dicked in the head. We love each other, and I’m kicking him out of my house, like we’re going backward.
Not backward. We’re starting over.
I clutch my throat, swallowing around a painful lump.
Trace shuts the trunk and opens the rear passenger door. I told him he had to leave, that he needed to go work and I would see him when I return to the restaurant tomorrow.
Today’s my day off, and I want to visit the homeless shelter. I haven’t been there since Cole came back.