Page 40 of It Takes Three To Tango

“Oh, yes. I see what you mean. I hadn’t thought of that, had I?”

I don’t want to point out the understatement of the century, so instead I reply.

“This is why it’s important we discuss it now.”

His gaze bounces between us before he runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, how do we do this?”

I stall. Now I’ve got this far, I don’t know how to proceed. I’m used to a culture where you kiss whomever you want, you have sex with whomever takes your fancy. Hurt doesn’t factor into it, because nothing ever reaches below the surface. My reaction yesterday surprised me, and I don’t want that to happen again.

Constantin reaches across the table for Rafe’s hand, and then he takes mine. His hand is large and warm. It’s comforting. He gives mine a squeeze and I hope it means that he understands me a little.

“When Florencio told you we’d kissed yesterday, how did that make you feel? What was your immediate thought?”

He doesn’t even hesitate with his reply.

“I felt a burst of happiness. I was worried you two wouldn’t like each other. I’m glad it happened.”

I try not to snort at how his reaction was the polar opposite of mine but fail, receiving a small frown from Rafe and another squeeze from Constantin. He continues. “So, let’s stick with kissing for a minute. Are you saying you don’t mind if any one of us kisses the other?”

“I’m okay with it,” he says.

“Good. I’m fine with it, though I’d rather watch.” Constantin gives a little chuckle. “Florencio?”

I swallow round the knot in my throat. It would be hypocritical for me to say I’m not happy about it, considering what I did last night. But that isn’t the problem here.

“Kissing isn’t an issue for me. What I’m more worried about is exclusion. One pair of us drawing away from the other one.” Or rather Rafe and Constantin becoming something more and me not being a part of it. That’s at the root of my turmoil. “That’s where we have the capacity to hurt each other, and it’s what scares me.” I know as I say it, I can’t predict what might happen, nor can I be the keeper of anyone’s heart but my own, but at least I’ve voiced my fears.

Rafe’s fingers find mine, and he interlaces them, giving me a tentative smile.

“Can we agree that if any of us feel excluded, we can voice it and talk about it?” I’m not so naïve as to think this is the perfect solution. Life doesn’t work like that, but I need to believe that it can. I need to believe this will work, or the anxiety will never cease.

“Yes, I can agree with that,” Constantin says.

“I agree,” Rafe adds. “Is it like a pact?”

“Of sorts, I suppose, as long as I don’t have to sign in blood,” Constantin says with a grimace. My mouth twitches, and my nerves are still frayed, but the roiling in my stomach is easing.

“There are other bodily fluids,” I can’t help quip and Constantin laughs, relieving some of the tension. We release hands and I reach for my coffee, pulling a face at how cold it is.

“That’s the other question here. What about when we want to take things further?” Constantin asks. “What do we want to agree on here?”

This time Rafe chimes in. “I think for now we only go there when we’re all present?”

“Is that practical?” I ask, trying to think up all the scenarios I can and giving up almost immediately as there are too many.

“Or as a pair, but checking in with the other first and gaining consent?” he queries and Constantin nods. That seems about as fair and workable as we can make it. Even though I wanted this discussion, it’s starting to feel a bit clinical to me.

“Well, I hope I haven’t killed any spontaneity now.” I grimace.

“I don’t think so,” says Constantin. “I think it helps. At least we won’t be second-guessing ourselves.”

“Oh, look at the time!” Rafe jumps up. “I’m due to meet Estrella and I’m five minutes late.” He leaves the room in a whirlwind.

“Have I done the right thing?” I muse when Constantin and I are left alone.

“There’s nothing wrong with stating your feelings and wanting to make sure they’re protected,” he says, getting up. “I need to get down to the bar. I’ll see you later.” He stops as he passes behind my chair and places one of his large, warm hands on my shoulder. I look up into his dark eyes.

“It will be all right.” I know he can’t promise that, but I appreciate him recognising the need to say it.

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