Page 104 of Creeping Beautiful

Which I knew. Obviously. I’d know this man since I was nine. “I don’t know if that’s what I want, either.”

“Me? Or her?”

And then there was nothing else to say but the truth. “You.”

“Oh.” That’s all he said. Just that and he walked back home. Left me there to fish.

And you know, if he was asking me again today, I might have other opinions about it. A four-year separation will do that to people.

I turn back to the crib and start picking up the bags of outdoor cushions and throwing them over the tractor towards the open door.

But her offer lingers in my head as I work. It rattles around in there like an echo. You’re always welcome to join us.

Is that how it ends? The three of us sharing her like that?

It’s not like we haven’t done that before.

Just the one time. But I know she and Donovan had a little affair a few months before the very bad day when everything changed. Donovan was always the one I figured she’d go to because they are only five years apart. He had just turned twenty-five and she was nineteen when I first caught them together.

They were in the laundry room and I watched the whole thing. They knew I was there. Indie did, at least. But it was almost like… she wanted me to watch. She was trying hard that year to entice me into something more than friendship.

And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it. I did. I wanted to rip her fucking clothes off and fuck her into next week.

It just felt so… wrong.

That’s why she was with Donovan that day in the laundry room. That’s why she wanted me to see it. And even back then—even when she was sitting on top of the washing machine with her jeans pulled down her legs and her knees bent and hiked up to her chest so Donovan could gain access—even then I stayed.

If I thought I could walk away and leave her with Donovan and Adam, I would.

But I can’t.

There is no girl in my future not called Indie Anna Accorsi.

I’m throwing cushion bag number twelve when Donovan appears in the doorway and catches it. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What’s it look like? I’m gonna fix up the pavilion. Why don’t you make yourself useful and start to get all those cushions out?”

“Did she see that?”

I look at the crib, then back at Donovan. “If she did, didn’t mean anything to her. She didn’t say a word.”

“Well, this is risky, McKay. We have a plan. And I, for one, would like to stick to that plan.”

I’m on my last bag of cushion, so I don’t toss it, just carry it over to Donovan and stand in front of him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“What do you—”

“Don’t fuck with me, Donovan. You’re hiding something. I can tell. So what is it?”

He hikes a thumb over his shoulder, motioning to the house. “Is this about what happened back in the kitchen?”

“No. It’s not. It’s something else and you know it. So don’t try to change the subject. What the fuck are you hiding?”

He sighs. I’m really not in the mood to discuss the intricacies of how Indie fits into our adult lives, so this was mainly a diversion away from that subject. But they were whispering in the kitchen. I can’t let that go.

“OK. But you can’t be mad at me.”

“Mad about what?”