Page 80 of Bossing My Holiday
“Why are you telling me this?” she whispers, her eyes glassing over.
“I don’t know. Because the thought of you not knowing felt like death. Because the thought of you being on my arm tonight and introducing you as my girlfriend and having it be fake made me sick.”
“I don’t know what to say.” A tear hits her cheek, and I wipe it with my thumb. “I’m in love with two men, and I know that’s not normal, but I’m not sure I care anymore. Life is so short. And it can be so painful. But this has been the best week of mylife, and it’s had nothing to do with being in Paris or all the things you’ve bought me. It’s because I’ve been here with both of you.”
My eyes close, and I blow out a tormented breath. “For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know the right choice to make.”
“I can’t have you in pieces, Tristan.”
I nod. I can’t have her in pieces either. And I can’t treat her like a dirty secret. Like a mistress I fuck whenever I come to the States. She deserves better than that. She deserves everything, and there is no middle ground with this. It’s all or nothing.
“I hate this. It’s like it’s all still a ruse, a fake relationship when it’s not. Nothing has ever been more real than how I feel about you.”
“And yet it seems you’re not the only one who fell for the ruse.”
I spin around to find my grand-mère standing there wearing a long, black velvet gown, red lips, and a look that has my breath caught in my lungs.
Shit.
28
TRISTAN
“You have secrets, you three. Old women see what others miss.”
“Grand-mère…” My voice trails off.
“The heart wants what it wants, oui? Sometimes more than one thing.”
Her gaze flickers between the three of us.
“What exactly are you suggesting, Grand-mère?” I finally ask.
Her laugh is unexpected, a sound of genuine amusement. “I’m not suggesting anything, mon cher. I’m stating what is painfully obvious to anyone with functioning eyes. The three of you are in love.”
Waverly’s sharp intake of breath is the only sound in the room.
“I—we—” Braxton stammers before clarity hits him. “You knew. You’re not shocked by any of this.”
“Please.” Grand-mère waves dismissively. “I wasn’t born yesterday. The way you look at her, the way she looks at both of you, the way you two orbit with her as the center... It’s as clear as the wrinkles on my face. I saw it that first night.”
I feel Waverly’s hand find mine, then reach for Braxton’s with her other. She holds us both, not denying it but embracing it. Showing her that she wants this. Us.
“We didn’t plan for this to happen,” she says simply.
“Does anyone ever plan to fall in love?” Grand-mère asks. “Especially with two people at once? I should think not.”
“Are you... not shocked? Or… upset?” I ask carefully.
Grand-mère's eyes twinkle with mischief. “My dear boy, I lived in Paris during the ’60s. You think your arrangement is shocking? I could tell you stories that would make your hair curl. But there is more here. You said your relationship was fake. Explain this to me.”
I don’t have it in me to lie. “I love Waverly, and so does Braxton, and she loves both of us.”
“Yes, but why are you all upset? Is there fighting between you over her?” she questions.
“No. There is no fighting between us,” I confirm.
Brax moves in closer to Waverly. “We’re upset about Tristan leaving us to move to Paris.”
