The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood 3)

Oh, God. There was an invisible band around my chest, and every word was cinching it tighter. At that moment, the waitress reappeared with a tray of our drinks in hand. She picked up on the tension at the table and chose to silently dole out the cocktails while the two men stared intensely at each other.

“Can I get you anything else?” she said.

My voice was a ghost. “No, thank you.”

She hurried away, which just ratcheted up my anxiety.

“Did you ask me to come here,” Travis’s tone was equal parts hurt and disbelief, “because you thought it would keep me from making a scene?”

I flashed back to his story about the night Clay had his partner removed from the club. It made sense he’d be gun shy, but I was also hurt on Travis’s behalf, and upset with how we’d been ambushed.

Clay’s hand on the table curled into a fist, but it wasn’t in anger. He realized this wasn’t going well and struggled to find the right words. “No, I asked you because I wanted us to talk. You’re . . .” He sighed. “Before Lilith, you were my best friend, Travis. And now—after Lilith—you’ve become something more.”

His expression was so stunningly beautiful, it was heartbreaking, and Travis froze in place. It was a statement that hadn’t been said out loud before, and its power wasn’t lost on Travis.

The rest of the restaurant ceased to exist. There was a force pulling Travis and me toward Clay. An inescapable gravity.

“I don’t know what is,” he said, “or how to label what we are to each other, but I’m not blind. I see what’s happening between you two and I’m torn. I don’t want to stand in the way, but I don’t want to be left behind either.”

“No one’s leaving you behind,” I said.

Clay turned his attention toward me, and it looked like he wanted to believe what I’d said, but the skeptical side of him wouldn’t allow it. “Did I fuck this up? I tried to give you what you needed, and I brought him in when I couldn’t. Tell me that wasn’t wrong and I’m not going to lose you both as a result.”

My jaw hit the table as I endured the rollercoaster that was Clay tonight.

“Just wait a minute. I’m not going anywhere.” Travis sat straighter in his seat. “I don’t think she is, either. Look, I know this isn’t what you planned, but we can—”

He flinched as if someone had poked him, and his gaze dropped to his phone which must have vibrated. Whomever was calling him, it caused concern.

“I’m sorry. I have to take this.” He tapped the screen and lifted the phone to his ear. “This is Dr. Eckhart.”

I was reeling from what Clay had said, and what he really meant. With him returning home, he thought I was going to have to choose between the men.

And he was sure he was going to lose.

The urge to reassure and connect with him was so strong, I reached across the table and covered his hand with mine. “It wasn’t wrong, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Meanwhile, Travis stared at his untouched drink and listened somberly to the person on the other end. “Yeah, I agree with Dr. Khaan. It’s time.”

“Oh, no,” I whispered. He had that same resigned and professional tone I’d heard countless times at the clinic, the one the doctors used when they’d exhausted every option.

Clay kept his voice hushed to not disturb Travis. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re putting an animal down.”

“I appreciate the call,” Travis said. “Is she comfortable?” He nodded as he listened, then pulled the phone away for a moment to check the time on the screen. “I can be there in thirty minutes if Khaan thinks it can wait that long.” He continued to nod. “Okay, thanks. I’m on my way.”

He hung up, and it was as if he just realized where he was. He couldn’t have looked more conflicted if he’d tried.

“Jasmina?” I asked, suspecting the answer. He’d mentioned a few days ago the lemur wasn’t interested in food and had withdrawn from the rest of her troop.

Sadness filled his eyes. “Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry.”

It happened so naturally, it wasn’t until his gaze dropped to the table I realized what I’d done. My hand rested on his, which meant I was now holding hands with both men.

Neither pulled away. Maybe they felt the connection to each other as it flowed through me.

“I’m not on-call,” Travis said, “but I’d like to be there to say goodbye. So, unfortunately, I have to go.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Clay asked.

Travis considered it. He looked like he was about to say something, but then he made a face, shaking the thought away.

“Tell us,” I prompted.

His gaze flicked to Clay. “Weekends are usually yours with Lilith, but after I’m done, I was wondering if you’d . . .”