“So that’s fine for some people. But there are a whole lot of people who don’t operate that way.”
“Like who?” I asked.
“Like regular people, teachers, librarians, police officers.”
“Really?” I gasped, having no idea that the practice was so widespread.
“It’s not an aberration, and it’s not something bad. You’re not doing anything wrong,” Millie insisted. “Some people just have enough love to share.”
I considered her words. They were electric, sending shivers up and down my spine. It was exactly how I felt. I’d thought that the outside world would view my activities in a negative light, but if what Millie was saying was true, then maybe there was hope. I couldn’t stop what I was doing. I was falling in love with both Connor and Flynn, and Declan was an exciting prospect. It wouldn’t be right to cut any of them off just to conform to a pattern of behavior that didn’t work for me.
Millie and I finished up our dinner, and I finally called it a night. Climbing back into Flynn’s car, I asked the driver to take me home. He obliged, bringing me past the city with its twinkling lights, out into the suburbs where single family homes crowded together, all the way to Flynn’s mansion.
It was right around Seanan’s bedtime, and I suspected that Flynn would be upstairs tucking the little girl in. I went straight for my room, closing the door to ensure my privacy. Changing into more comfortable clothes, I lay down on top of the covers.
There was so much to think about. Making out with Declan had been wonderful. And the dinner with Millie had shed light on what had been an instinctual process for me. The idea that I could actually have all three men, and that there wasn’t anything wrong with that, was exciting. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Why should I have to choose between them? If I had to choose, I had no idea how I would go about doing it. I loved them all equally.
Almost a half hour passed in silent amusement when my phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, I groaned. It was my father.
“Hello?” I asked. I only picked up in case it was an emergency. Things hadn’t changed in the few months since I had seen the man. I still wasn’t interested in coming to his fourth wedding.
“Hello, Bre!” Dad sang, as if we were both on the same wavelength. “It’s been a while, so I thought I would call just to catch up.”
“Okay,” I allowed. If he was really serious, then it was a nice gesture.
“You haven’t called me once since you got to Ireland,” he complained. “How is it? Did you find a job?”
“Yes, I found a job,” I answered. “And it’s very nice. I’m getting used to the food, and everyone is really friendly. I met another woman from America, and we’ve been hanging out.” I wanted to add enough details to keep him from sniffing around other, more intimate subjects.
“That sounds great. I think it was a good idea to go visit the land of Nan’s birth,” he concluded.
“I’m not technically visiting,” I objected. “I live here.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a long time.” I thought about my trio of guys and knew that I would never leave them. There was nothing left for me in the United States, and everything I could ever want here in Dublin.
“You haven’t met Sarah,” Dad complained.
I sighed. How could I tell him that I didn’t want to meet Sarah? I didn’t care about Sarah. And if I did meet her, I would be forced to tell her to run for the hills. My father was some kind of serial killer when it came to marriage. He fell in love with a concept, not with a person, and when he figured out that his new bride had flaws, he would file for divorce. I didn’t think it was a stretch to consider him flaky. Of course he had someone new. He didn’t like to be alone; he just wanted someone perfect. I was one hundred percent sure that whoever Sarah was, she wasn’t the perfect woman Dad thought she was.
“I’ll have time to meet her if you stay married,” I snapped. It was out before I could stop it, and I realized how mean it sounded only after the words left my lips.
“I want you to come to the wedding,” Dad said, confirming my suspicions that Sarah would be his fourth wife.
“Dad…” I groaned. I couldn’t even begin to explain why I hated that idea so much. I didn’t want to take time off from my job and my lovers to travel halfway across the world to see my father married again.
“Promise you’ll think about it,” he bargained.
“I’ll think about it,” I agreed, just to get him off the phone.
“Thank you,” Dad said proudly. “I think you’ll really like her. She’s a tax attorney.”
I put my head down on the pillow, wondering how quickly I could get out of this conversation. A tax attorney? What about that made him think I would connect with her? Dad was droning on and on about Sarah’s attributes. She made the best key lime pie, she had a collection of earrings, she liked to go for walks. I lay there, letting the tension boil up in my gut until it became too much.
“I have to go,” I said abruptly.
“I’m sorry you feel—” Dad began, not letting me off the hook.