Hot 4 (Multiple Love)

"I'm Summer, by the way."

Of course she is. "Connie. It's been nice talking to you." I nod once to signify that it's the end of our conversation from my perspective, then pull my phone from my purse. Time to message Holden and drop in that I've just had a lovely chat with a woman called Summer. What will he say?

My message is received by him straight away, and I can see that he's typing out a response. Almost immediately, he returns, "Stay away from her. She's got a screw loose," and my heart sinks. This situation is going to come back to bite me. I'm sure of it.

22

It's our first outing, and my stomach is filled with butterflies. Half are fluttering excitedly as I relish every new experience we have together. The other half are frantic with nerves. We've already spoken about what it will be like to face the outside world with honesty about our relationship. In a big city we could hide, but in a small town, everything we do is going to be noted and gossiped about. The boys are fine with it. As in Thailand, they have no shame about what we are doing and intend to put that across to whoever happens to be watching. I remember the way they kissed me and touched me. I remember the looks from the other tourists who were sightseeing with us. At the time, I felt a rush from the attention. I felt exhilarated by my own brazenness. Taking charge of what I wanted felt amazing.

But we're not in Thailand now.

We're in this place that is going to be our home, and I don't want to be an outcast. I don't want my presence here to affect the boys' lives in a negative way. I've already escaped from one life that I didn't feel comfortable in. I can't run away again.

"This market has the best fresh produce," Harris says, taking my hand as we make our way from the truck. His brothers follow, discussing what we need to buy in a way that feels strange but blissfully domestic.

"It's all local farmers," Karter says. "Most of it has just been harvested. You don’t get much fresher than that."

"Is it just veggies?" I ask, imagining rows of tables displaying carrots and greens.

"No. It's everything fresh. They have an awesome butcher and a guy who specializes in cured meats. There's a dairy farmer with everything from cheese to cream. And the baker from town comes here once a week too."

"Don't forget Darlene," Holden says.

"How could I forget Darlene?" Karter slaps his forehead theatrically. "Darlene is our resident cake specialist. You haven't tasted heaven until you've had one of her chocolate and bacon cupcakes."

"Bacon?" Did I seriously hear right? Who on earth thought of bacon in a cupcake?

"Yep. Chocolate good. Bacon good. Together, paradise!"

We're getting closer to the entrance to the market, and a man who's emerging loaded with two paper bags of goods nods at the boys.

"Hey, Logan," Karter says. "You got enough? I hope you left some for us."

"It's crazy in there," Logan says, shifting his load. Peeking out from his shirtsleeve is a tattoo of a firefighter emerging from a raging inferno that leads me to assume he's one of their work buddies. Logan's eyes travel the group, landing on me.

"You got a new addition to the crew?" he says.

"This is Connie," Harris throws his arm around my shoulders, and Logan's eyes widen just a little.

"Hi, Connie. Don't tell me that Harris has finally met a woman who can tie him down?"

There's a moment where I'm totally lost for words and then Harris steps in.

"There's no one getting tied down here, except in the kinky sense."

Logan snorts, and I'm thinking that's it. Harris is getting out of answering by deflecting with humor. Then Holden clears his throat.

"Connie is with us all." The statement is bold, simple, and unapologetic. Logan’s eyes bulge noticeably, and a nervous laugh bubbles up through my chest, only to be swallowed down. This isn't the time for laughter. It's not the time for making light of something that Holden has wanted to communicate with his colleague. It feels very much like we're coming out to the world, and I suddenly have immense sympathy for every person whose love life differs from the one-man-one-woman setup. It's not easy to be different, and it's not easy to lay that difference out, especially when that difference hinges around love and sex.

Nobody really wants to think about other people's sex lives, but I know that Logan is thinking about ours right now, and that makes me want to cringe.

"Good for you," he finally says. There's an awkward moment where we all stand around smiling a little too broadly. Logan’s eyes scan over us, fixing on my hand in Harris's. I bet it's burning in him to ask if the group thing is really a group thing or if I just bed-hop between them. I reckon the truth would blow his mind.