It’s a damn shame Derek doesn’t agree with us.
New Year’s Eve feels more bittersweet than any year past. Grayson chats with me while I set up my new planner, putting on the designing show marathon on television and referencing his digital calendar as we work through each month.
When we finally reach December, I stare at it. “Are we doing another trip with Derek for Christmas?” It wouldn’t be a question I’d ask normally; our annual Christmas trip with Derek is tradition. It’s a given. Until it’s not.
“I don’t know,” Grayson says softly. “Mark it in pencil or washi or whatever temporary option you have.”
My chest tries to close and I blink rapidly against the burning in my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Baby, no.” Instantly, he’s up and around the table, bending down to cup my face. “I’m sorry it’s hurting now, but I’m not sorry we did it.”
“How can you say that? You’re friendship with Derek is changed forever.”
Grayson shrugs a little. “Friendships change. We’ll figure it out once he’s had time to think. I’ll take him however I can get him, even if that means it’s not what we wanted.” He strokes my cheekbones with his thumbs. “Are you okay with that?”
“I’m not going to sleep with him again.” I catch his frown and rush forward. “It doesn’t feel right without you involved. And no matter what games I like to play, I already have feelings for Derek. Being confined to only sex will make me resent the hell out of him, and it’s not worth it to add bad feelings to confusing ones.”
He finally nods. “Okay. But my offer remains open if you change your mind.” He glances at my planner. “I think we’re good?”
“Yeah. We’re good.” For a moment, it even felt like it. No matter what else is true, Grayson and I will find a way forward through this. Our foundation is too strong for the outcome to be anything different. I wrap my hands around his wrists. “I didn’t say this before, but if you want to be with him, I’m okay with it.”
He goes perfectly still. “What?”
“If you want to keep having sex with Derek.” I study his face. I didn’t feel threatened at all when they were fucking with me nearby, and I can’t ignore the sliver of doubt that tries to worm its way into my heart. They’ve known each other so much longer than Grayson and I have, have been nursing an attraction to each other in addition to their friendship. Sending Grayson into Derek’s bed might be a mistake. But I want him happy, and if we can’t have Derek in our bed and in our life in a permanent way, then this is something I can give Grayson. “I’m okay with it.”
Grayson pulls me to my feet and kisses me hard. “Thank you for offering that, but I’m not going to take you up on it for the same reasons you won’t.”
“The offer stands, though.”
He smiles down at me, the first real smile I’ve seen on his face since we left Colorado. “I love you, Emma.”
“I love you, too.” I go up on my toes to kiss him again.
The buzzer sounds.
We look at each other. “Did you order food all sneaky-like?”
He shakes his head. “I hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I was waiting until you finished with the planning marathon.”
The buzzer sounds again. I step back from Grayson, my heart doing something fluttering and worrisome. “Better see who it is.” I have no business hoping. Absolutely no business letting that feeling blossom in my chest.
He presses the button to call down to the front door. “Yeah?”
“I’d like to talk.”
The blood rushes out of my head at the sound of Derek’s voice, even tinny from the speaker. He’s here. I turn back to the table with my planners and start to put them to rights. Anything to keep my hands busy as Grayson buzzes him up. I can’t believe this is happening. Except I don’t know what is happening. He might be stopping by to tell us to our faces that he never wants to see us again. That we broke our friendship with him irrevocably when we crossed the line Christmas Eve.
By the time Grayson opens the door for Derek, I’ve got all my things picked up. It feels like a mistake because now I have nothing to do with my hands. I wrap my arms around myself and drink in the sight of him.
He looks good. Really, really good. He’s trimmed his beard and he’s wearing his customary jeans and T-shirt that’s just fitted enough to show off his shoulders and chest and presses lightly to the curve of his stomach. He looks at Grayson and then at me, his expression carefully guarded. “I was hoping we could talk.”
Grayson motions to the living room. “Sit.”