Page 158 of Better When Shared
“Whatever. Fuck him,” she said, a grin spreading across her face. “You love us.”
“I didn’t mean to say that yet,” I muttered.
“But you do!” Enzo cheered. “Which is good, because we love you back.”
Gemma smacked his shoulder. “I didn’t say it yet!”
“Oh, sorry. I love you back. Gemma, on the other hand, has feelings that are—”
“Also love,” she interrupted, beaming. “For both of you.”
Instead of continuing their idiotic banter, I kissed her. Not the passionate, hungry kisses we'd shared in private, but something tender and claiming. My lips moved against hers with gentle insistence, pouring everything I couldn't say into that single point of contact. I felt her melt into me, her hands fisting in my shirt as she kissed me back with desperate need.
When we finally broke apart, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Don’t worry about Jake. I never loved him. He never loved me," she whispered. “I didn’t even know what love meant until I met you and Enzo.”
Enzo's arm slipped around both of us, creating a protective circle in the middle of the bustling airport. "Come on, my loves," hesaid, his voice gentle but firm. "Let's get out of here. You both look like you're about to collapse from stress."
The drive to Gemma's apartment was a blur of traffic and quiet conversation. She'd hired a sleek BMW limousine, and the three of us cuddled in the back while the driver navigated the busy roads.
Chapter 19
Brian
Bath, England
Bath's historic streets were beautiful in the late afternoon light, honey-colored stone buildings rising like something from a fairy tale. But I barely noticed the scenery, too focused on the way Gemma's hands trembled slightly on the steering wheel, the careful way she held herself like she was afraid of breaking apart.
Her apartment was beautiful, and occupied the entire top floor of a converted Georgian townhouse, all soaring ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered breathtaking views of the city. The décor was minimalist but warm, carefully chosen pieces that spoke of both wealth and taste. It should have felt intimidating, but instead it felt like her—elegant, powerful, and surprisingly welcoming.
"This is beautiful," I said, setting down my bag and taking in the space. "I don’t think I really got a look at it before. You have incredible taste."
She shrugged, but I could see some of her natural confidence returning as she moved through her own space. "I spend so much time in hotels, I wanted home to feel different. Less formal, more... personal."
I could see what she meant. The apartment felt lived-in despite its elegance, with books scattered on the coffee table, a half-finished crossword puzzle on the kitchen counter, and photographs from her travels arranged on the mantel. It was the home of someone who valued beauty but wasn't afraid to actually live in it.
There was a big crochet blanket in soft, muted colors thrown over the sofa, and she touched it fondly, grinning. “My cousin, Tristan, makes these. He’s in a triad relationship, did you know that?”
“So… your family is prepared?” Enzo said, grinning. “Like, we’re not even going to shock them?”
"Hopefully. I mean, I wouldn’t say they’ve fully accepted Tristan’s situation yet. Or his brother Caleb’s. But we can present a united front.”
Something soared in my heart at the thought that she’d thought about how to introduce us to her family. She was smiling asshe picked up a stack of envelopes on the table, absently sorting through mail that had come from the trip.
“My parents aren’t around much, anyway. They’re retired and live in the south of France.” She waved a postcard at us. “Here’s their latest note, full of vague apologies about the wedding cancellation.”
“You don’t need them anyway.”
She flipped to the next envelope and my heart dropped. It looked like a receipt, or a bill, from Elyssion, the cruise line. I tried to reach for it, but Gemma was already tearing it open, skimming the letter.
“Gem, you don’t need to read that,” I started.
“Brian, I thought you said my spot on the cruise was free.”
Enzo snorted. “Not likely.”
I turned to face him, noting the way his jaw was set with determination. "Enzo—"
"She should know," he said, moving closer until he was standing right in front of me. "You take care of everyone else, but you never let anyone take care of you. You think we don't pay attention, but we do. We see you. We notice the sacrifices you make."
