Four Fun (Four)

Jade holds the door open for me. “The guys seem eager for you to move in with them. Are you scared things will go bad if you do?”

I slow my pace as we walk back to the table, thinking over her question, and finally shake my head. “No, I’m not worried. I love being with them, but I’ve got the best of both worlds lately, spending some nights with you and Rachel, and other nights with them. It’s been so nice being able to see more of my sister — and you too, of course,” I add with a laugh.

“It has been a lot of fun, and I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through the breakup without you.”

“I hear that the best way to get over a breakup is to find someone new,” I say. “Seen any hot guys coming into the bakery?”

“A few, but I’m not sure I trust my judgment anymore.”

“The right guy will never make you feel bad about yourself,” I say, “and he’ll never make you feel like you come second in his life. You deserve someone who always puts you first.”

It’s an odd moment, me giving relationship advice, when I’ve spent my entire life avoiding any kind of attachments. But thanks to Jade urging me to be vulnerable, I’ve opened myself up to four wonderful men who show me every day how a woman should be treated and how happy a good relationship can make a person.

All four of those men are watching me as we return to the table. Even as Devin and Khalil are talking to Rachel, their eyes find mine, and they smile. When I take my seat, Marcos leans over to give me a quick kiss on the cheek, and from my other side, Shane takes my hand and holds it throughout the rest of the meal.

Four Months Later

“I’m going to blindfold you, but it’s nothing kinky,” Khalil says. “Not yet, anyway.”

“What’s going on?” I’ve just gotten home from an end-of-season day at the beach with Jade, Caz, and Christine. It’s still warm enough to sunbathe, but the summer crowds are mostly gone. I need to take a shower, but Khalil has stopped me in the laundry room.

“We have a surprise for you. Put this on, and I’ll lead you upstairs.”

“The surprise is upstairs?”

“No, it will be downstairs, but it’s not ready yet, and I don’t want you to see anything.”

I turn obediently and let him tie the fabric around my eyes. He takes my hand and walks me slowly through the kitchen, where I’m greeted by the voices of Devin and Marcos. There’s a delicious smell in the air that I can’t quite identify but that immediately makes me hungry.

“We’re at the stairs,” Khalil says. “I’ll take your blindfold off here if you promise not to look back.”

“I promise.”

He removes the fabric and then walks upstairs with me, asking about my day and giving cryptic answers to questions I ask him about what’s going on. Inside my room, he backs me up against the wall and greets me properly, the length of his body pressing into mine, and his lips telling me how much he’s missed me.

When my hand seeks out the snap on his jeans, he steps back. “I need to get back downstairs. I’ll come and get you in about twenty minutes. You can relax until then.”

After one more kiss, he leaves me alone in my room. I’m not in here very often. It’s the room that used to be the guest room, but when I officially moved in a few months ago, it became mine. It holds my clothing, and occasionally, I’ll lie in here and read, but at night, I’m always in one of the men’s rooms.

I pick out something nice from the closet, a summery blue dress the men bought for me, and take a quick shower before I change into it.

Shortly after I’m dressed, Khalil returns, and I’m glad I chose to wear something nice because he now has on a crisp light blue dress shirt and dark jeans.

“Wow, looking good,” I say.

He ducks his head and grins. “Thanks.”

“I’m almost going to hate taking that nice shirt off of you later. Almost.”

“Right back at you,” he says, running his hand down my side. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready. What’s going on?”

His grin grows wider. “Let’s go see.”

He escorts me downstairs, where the lights are dim, and into the dining room, which is lit by candlelight. The other three men are standing in a line just inside the doorway, each of them looking as sharply attired as Khalil.

Shane and Devin are in white dress shirts, open at the neck, while Marcos’s shirt is a very pale shade of purple. All of them are neatly groomed and smiling at me as I enter.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask. The table is nicely set, looking much more formal than how we typically grab our meals. There’s a platter holding steaks, a couple of covered dishes, a few bottles of wine, and even a bread basket. There are also roses and candles on both the dining table and the sideboard.