What Happens in Vegas

“S—Stay?” I stammered. “Here? With you guys?”

All three of them nodded, and my stomach dropped into my feet.

“I can’t stay,” I said quickly. “I have to get back. My flight’s in a few hours. In fact—”

“You were telling us this is the first vacation you’ve taken in a really long time,” said Brody. “Right?”

“Years,” I confirmed.

“Then why not extend it? Take another few days. Maybe an extra week.”

A week! Already I could picture Lilith’s expression. Hear the anger and disappointment in her great big sigh.

“We talked it over while you were sleeping,” said Brody. “Spending a week out in the desert is always fun, but it’ll be more fun with you here.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Not just that,” Mason stepped in. “I mean, sure, that. But also—”

“Also it’s just nice to have someone else here,” said Brody. “Someone to talk to, laugh with. Someone to bounce things off of, and get a girl’s perspective on things.”

Another few days. Here. With them…

“Besides, how many times can we share the same stories?” Brody went on. “The three of us have all the same experiences. You’re someone… different.?

?

“And fun,” Corey smiled. “Don’t forget that part.”

“And totally chill,” Mason chimed in. “Like California levels of chill… but without all that phony Hollywood bullshit.”

I crunched down on a piece of bacon, but I barely tasted it. “So California chill with a New York edge?” I found myself saying.

“Yeah,” Mason grinned. “That.”

“And what about work?” I said, more to myself than them. “What about my boss?”

“You can’t ask for another few days?”

“I guess I could,” I reasoned. “But the way things are—”

“The way things are,” said Corey, “you’ve been working too hard for those people anyway. Obviously they’re abusing you, if they only let you out once every three of four years.”

Well… shit.

It was definitely weird, hearing it like that. Hearing it from someone else, from someone outside the scope of my own professional life.

But when you looked at it that way…

“You really want me to stay?” I asked, cocking my head. “I mean, in all the times you’ve done this, you said you’ve never—”

“We haven’t,” Brody broke in. “But this situation…” he stopped himself. “No, not this situation. It’s you. You’re the one that’s different, Lauren.”

I looked around numbly, as if seeing the house for the first time. It looked even more amazing during the day, more sharp and clean and beautiful. My eyes lingered on the windows, the living area, on the couch where I’d straddled Mason. On the door to the master bedroom, where we’d—

“We could, of course, go easy on you,” Brody pointed out. “If you’re worried at all about—”

“Did I say I wanted you to go easy on me?”