Deep 6 (Multiple Love)

"And here we are," Kane says. "Connie has made us the happiest men on earth today. She's the strongest person we know, battling for our family, standing up when people judge our love. We know it isn't always easy to live a life that's different to the majority, but we promise we'll be by your side in every way…for as long as we're breathing, we are yours."

Connie's hand covers her mouth, and her eyes brim with tears. Holden kisses the top of her head, and the Banbury men gather around their bride, taking it in turns to hug and kiss her. They are the picture of unity, the very image of happiness and contentment, and amongst them, Brett, their son, squeals happily.

I hate the label, but they really are “couple goals” except they're not a couple. They're not even a throuple! What the hell are they? A pentuple? I don't think that's a thing. In fact, I think I just made up a new term!

The crowd cheers, and the DJ flicks the switch so the music fills the room again, and in a flash, everyone is up and dancing.

Tyler's focus is back on his plate, the haunted look has almost gone from his expression, but I can't forget it. Something bad happened in his family. Something that made Tyler look like I ripped out his heart and incinerated it with just the mention of his brother and sister.

He's not going to tell me. I know enough about this man to know that his vulnerabilities are kept under armor plating. So if he won't tell me, I'm going to have to find out another way.

4

TYLER

Connie drags Sandy up to dance, and I watch them from my seat at the edge of the dancefloor. Sandy's movements are stilted at first, but soon, she's dancing like they're listening to Spotify in their bedroom at home.

She always loved dancing, and I always loved watching the light spill from her when she was happy. I see some light now, but not like when we were younger. Not like before.

People begin to leave, and the caterers clear the food and tableware until it's obvious that the party is almost over. I catch Sandy looking at her watch, and then she finds where I'm sitting, and our eyes meet. As she whispers something to Carmella, they both look in my direction, then kiss as though they're saying goodbye.

I don't mind waiting for Sandy. Today has been strange and challenging in some ways, but like a glimpse into a past life too.

It's hard to admit I'd do anything to go back there, to when there was nothing bad between Sandy and me, only laughter and love and a connection so deep and intense it was as though we were bolted together with steel.

"Hey," she says, reaching for her purse. "We should go. I've kept you here long enough."

"It's okay. I don't mind," I say, but Sandy shakes her head.

"I'm ready. And to be honest, I need to get back to try and find a hotel for the night. I'd stay here, but I left my suitcase in my trunk.”

We start to drift out of the hall, searching for Connie and her husbands but not finding them. Maybe they snuck off earlier, or maybe they're putting Brett to bed. In the parking lot, I open the door of the truck for Sandy and wait for her to slide in demurely, making sure the door is safely shut. When I round the back of the truck, my mind is torn as to what to do.

I don't want Sandy to stay in a hotel. To be honest, there's only a trashy motel near Deep Repairs, and there is no way that I'm planning on dropping her there. I want to tell her that she can stay with me. I'll give up my room and take the sofa. But will that be weird for her?

Probably.

But I know I won't sleep at night with her in a nasty place like Green's Motel.

Fastening my belt, I start the car. "I think you should stay at mine," I say. "The motel isn't nice or safe. You can have my room, and I'll take the couch."

"I can't," she says.

"You can and you will," I state firmly but softly. "The house is big. We'll all be up early for work. You'll hardly know we're there, and you can make yourself at home. Just…you know…as friends."

"Friends?"

I know it's a stupid label to give us. We were so much more, and now we're so much less. It's not an honest descriptor of the past or the present. "No strings is what I mean." I'm bumbling like a fool and cringing at the words tumble out of my mouth. I haven't been this nervous around a woman since I was fourteen and fumbling for a first kiss.