Page 50 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
Jake runs a hand through his hair and cracks a lopsided grin. “She kissed me, you know. In the rain, by the gazebo.”
Ethan’s lips twitch, like he’s surprised but not upset. “She asked me to help with the floral arrangements after everything fell apart. I showed her a drawing I did of her… one I didn’t mean for anyone to see. She saw it, and… things shifted.”
Jake lifts an eyebrow. “Shifted how?”
Ethan gives him a look. “You can guess.”
I stare at the table, the wood grain warping under the dim light. “Same thing happened when I helped her fix Danielle’s dress.”
Jake whistles low. “She’s got a way of making you feel like you’re the center of her whole orbit.”
Ethan takes a sip of his drink. “She’s not trying to manipulate any of us. That’s not her.”
“No,” I agree. “She’s just… magnetic. Honest. God, she’severything.”
“She’s impossible not to fall for,” Jake says.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “She is.”
We fall quiet again. The bar hums around us and my thoughts swirl.
Jake taps his fingers against his glass. “So what the hell do we do?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think she wants to choose.”
Ethan shifts. “Are we okay with that?”
It’s not an accusation. It’s a real question. He’s not asking what we’lltolerate.He’s asking what we really want.
I don’t answer right away. I close my eyes, think of Maya—her laugh during while we worked on decorations, the way she brushed hair from her eyes while looking up at me, barefoot in the venue hallway. The sound of her voice when she says my name.
I picture Jake kissing her in the rain, Ethan tracing her face on paper and sharing more than ideas about centerpieces.
Ishouldfeel jealous.
Ishouldbe angry.
But all I feel is this overwhelming protectiveness. This fierce, achingneedfor her to be safe and happy and loved from every direction.
“I don’t want to lose her,” I admit, the words scraping their way up my throat.
Ethan nods slowly, his jaw tense. “Neither do I.”
There’s a long pause. Jake leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
The usual spark in his eyes is still there—but tonight, it’s tempered by something deeper. Something intense.
“Look,” he says, “I’ve never shared a damn thing in my life I didn’t have to. Not a girl. Not my heart.”
He glances between us.
“But Maya? She’s different.”
A pause. A breath.
“So maybe… we don’t make her choose.”
My breath catches. I blink at him. “You’re serious.”
