"He knew about Danna, though. He knew about her arrangement. Don't you think that's what he had in mind for us?"
My eyebrows shoot up. Seriously? How have they gone from protecting me like brothers to that?
"Sometimes, but he never came out and said it exactly that way."
I put my hands on my hips, thinking that's because Dad would never have gone there. He'd never have wanted something so weird for me.
"He told me he wanted us to find a way to always be together, that family is the most important thing, and we always have to put each other first."
"He told me that he wanted Maggie to live a happy and protected life with her family."
"Neither of those statements confirms anything other than his family values."
Exactly, I think. At least there is one man among the group who has some sense.
"He told me he could see why Danna wanted to live with the Jackson brothers. He loved those guys, and he loved how much they care for and protect Danna. He said that her dad freaked out at first, but now that he knows them all, and he sees how they are with his daughter, he's over the moon."
"Who wouldn't want that kind of security for their daughter?"
"Yeah, but love and security come with other things that a father might not be that keen on."
"Sex, you mean."
"Sex with one guy must be hard enough for a father to consider for his own daughter. Sex with ten or eleven, well, I can see why Dad never went as far as telling us outright that he wants Maggie to be with all of us."
"That's a lot of fucking," someone laughs.
"A fucking lot of fucking," someone else says, followed by yet more low fumbling laughter.
"Well, Danna manages it. That girl rides a horse like a pro. If it was detrimental to her physically, there's no way she'd be able to straddle anything harder than a cushion."
"Whores fuck a whole lot more than eleven times a day."
"Can we not focus on whores and fucking? I mean, sex is important, of course it is, but this is about so much more than that."
There's a murmur of what sounds like agreement, and my mouth is hanging open. I know that listening in to conversations in secret like this is rude, but I can't help myself. Eleven strangers sit behind this door, talking about me and my future like they have rights over both. It's seriously fascinating and disconcerting.
"We have to vote on this. It's what Dad taught us to do when decisions needed to be made. It's the only way to come to a consensus when there are so many of us."
"We vote, and we respect the majority decision."
"This is big, though. Bigger than we've ever had to vote on."
"It's big, but it's critical. We need to be honest about whether this is something we want. We don't have time to wait around to see what happens. If we don't do this right, it's likely to all go wrong."
"It feels strange to vote on something like this… cold."
"It's not cold. There is nothing cold about this decision. This is about Dad and his legacy. It's about his family and generations to come. This is about respecting everything he did for us, and everything we learned from him."
"So, we vote?"
"Yeah."
"Raise your hand if you're on board with forming a family unit like Danna's?" There's the rustle of bodies moving, and I wish I could see past the door to find out who is raising their hand and who isn't. Is this an all-or-nothing situation, or would those in favor form a smaller family unit and leave those against to move on? I can’t believe my mind is even trying to process this.
"Okay, now raise your hand if you want to do this with Maggie, taking the baby into consideration."
There's another rustle, and I'm desperate to know what they've all voted, but I can't see a thing. Half of me is completely flattered that eleven gorgeous men are even considering this with me, and the other half is thinking, what the fuck! They don't know me. They don't know who I am or what I stand for. I haven't even been formally introduced to all of them yet. I probably wouldn't be able to pick them out in a lineup. Seriously, this feels more like some kind of antiquated arranged marriage tradition than anything romantic.
"That's decided then," someone says, and in my head, I'm screaming, “What has been decided and how the fuck can you decide anything when I'm not even there?”
"Now we need to come up with our next moves."
Next moves? What next moves?
"I don't think we have long. Maggie's only here to deal with Dad's possessions, and then she's returning home," a voice that sounds like Harley’s says.