Page 96 of Triple Play
By the time the movie ends, the Advil has kicked in and I’m feeling almost human again. The cramps are still there but manageable. And I’m surrounded by three guys who dropped everything to take care of me in their own weird, over-the-top ways.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For all of this. The heating pad, the tea, the tampon shopping, the banana, the—everything.”
“Anytime,” Wyatt says simply.
“Literally anytime.” Jordie stretches, then flops dramatically across my legs. “We’re at your uterus’s service.”
Grant’s watching us with that expression again. The one I’m learning to read. It’s not jealousy exactly. More like… longing. He wants to be part of this. Part of us.
But he doesn’t know how. Doesn’t know if he’s allowed.
“Grant.” I wait until he meets my eyes. “Thank you. For the tea. And the banana. And staying.”
Something in his expression cracks open. “Yeah. Of course.”
“You know what she needs now?” Jordie announces. “Junk food. Real junk food. Not healthy bananas.”
He’s already pulling out his phone. “I’m ordering pizza. And breadsticks. And those cinnamon things you like.”
“I didn’t say I liked—”
“You ate four of them last time. I counted.” He’s typing with his thumbs, completely focused. “Wyatt, you want your usual? Grant?”
Grant hesitates. Like he’s not sure if he’s included in this. If he gets to be part of the casual intimacy of knowing each other’s pizza orders.
“Pepperoni and mushroom,” I say.
Grant stares at me. “How did you—”
I shrug. “I pay attention too.”
The look on his face makes my chest tight. Like I just gave him something precious instead of remembering a pizza order.
“Yeah,” he says roughly. “That’s—yeah. Thank you.”
Jordie places the order, then settles back on the bed. We end up in this tangle—me against Wyatt, Jordie’s head on my thigh, Grant still in the chair but closer now, his hand resting on the edge of the bed near mine.
Not quite touching. But close enough.
We start another movie. Something with car chases and explosions and zero emotional depth. Perfect.
And somewhere between the pizza arriving and the credits rolling, I realize something.
This works. The four of us. In this weird, complicated, unconventional way—it works.
Jordie makes everything lighter. Wyatt grounds me. Grant challenges me. And somehow, together, they fill in all the spaces I didn’t know were empty.
I don’t know what this means. Don’t know if I can actually do this—be with three people who all want different things from me. Don’t know if Grant can handle sharing when he barely handled me being with the other two.
But watching them now—Jordie arguing with Wyatt about whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie, Grant almost smiling as he listens—I think maybe we can figure it out.
Maybe we’re already figuring it out.
“Stop thinking so loud,” Wyatt murmurs against my ear. “I can feel your brain working overtime.”
“Can’t help it.”
“Try.” His arms tighten slightly. “Just be here. Right now. That’s all.”
