Page 98 of Filthy Rich Ex's Brothers

Of course, it comes back from time to time, but I always know what to do when it does.

“So?” Travis asks, and to anyone else, his golden eyes might hold the practiced indifference of a seasoned negotiator, but I can see the nerves hidden beneath them.

A grin steals over my face, and I lean back in my seat, giving them one of Ryan’s signature shrugs. “Oh—sure. Sounds fine.”

Growling out a laugh, Graham reaches over, pulling me into his lap and tickling me ruthlessly.

I cry out, breathless, “Oh, please, isn’t there a strong husband out there to help me? Tosaveme?”

But neither Ryan nor Travis takes the bait.

“You’re right where you want to be,” Ryan says, dropping a kiss on my head on his way to the drink cart. “Champagne, anyone?”

“I’ll take a glass!” Graham calls, and this time, when his hands rest on my hips, it’s just to tug me in closer to him, bring our bodies flush with one another.

Ryan brings back the drinks, and I marvel at how comfortable we are together. How easy this thing is between us.

“Cheers,” he says, and we raise our glasses.

“To us,” Travis says.

“To themarriage,” Graham adds.

“To having the best fucking croissants when we land!” Ryan practically shouts.

I laugh, raising my glass, clinking it against theirs. Then, I say the last thing they were probably expecting. But, in a weird way, I really do have him to thank for all this.

“Cheers to Alex Oakley,” I say, smiling when each of them looks at me like I’m crazy. “Because without his blunder, I wouldn’t be here with the men I love today.”

Their faces soften, and together, suspended above the Atlantic and in the arms of the ones we love, we drink champagne that, somehow, tastes sweeter each time we have something to celebrate together.