STERLING GATES
“I’m glad she’s finally sleeping,” Lincoln admitted, his cigar smoke drifting out of the balcony we sat near, having come inside a bit ago. My eyes were trained on the way Dahlia’s chest moved with even, relaxed breaths. Dermot had rolled over but was sleeping as well, making me a bit jealous that I wasn’t in bed with her instead.
There was only one thing that could eclipse that desire, and it was the need to draw Dahlia. Currently, her face was pressed against the soft sheets, and the light from her nightstand almost made it look like she was glowing. My hand continued to move across the sheet of sketch paper perched on my knee, deciding not to bother responding to my brother. I don’t think he expected it, either—he knew how I got when I was focused on drawing or painting her.
“I was worried earlier,” my brother continued.
Maybe he did expect a response.
“When she woke up screaming… I thought that maybe she wouldn’t calm down, or that when she did, she would realize that we were the ones to cause this entire thing, to bring all of this on her—”
His voice was choked at the end, and my pencil paused on my paper.
I looked up at him and spoke quietly. “It’s possible that she could still feel that way one day, but we have to trust what she’s saying. Dahlia may keep some things to herself, but if she wasn’t comfortable with this, she would tell us…especially after something this insane.”
“I hope you’re right,” Lincoln murmured. “I don’t want to lose her.”
“That won’t happen,” Yates said from where he leaned against the balcony archway, sounding supremely confident.
“Yes, I understand that in theory—”
Yates chuckled, but it wasn’t a nice noise. “No, Lincoln, I mean it won’t happen because we would never let that happen.Iwould never let that happen. I don’t care if she blames us, she’s not allowed to leave. Ever. She can hate us, but she can’t leave.”
I started sketching again because I was unsurprised by his words.
Lincoln scoffed. “You sound fucking crazy.”
Which was saying something, coming from Lincoln.
“I am crazy.” Yates shrugged unapologetically.
“This isn’t something we need to worry about,” King said evenly. “Dahlia is telling the truth about how she feels.”
I looked towards Stratton, who sat next to Lincoln, silently smoking a cigarette but very clearly paying attention to the discussion. It was odd because while he didn’t say a lot, Stratton always seemed to be part of the conversation.
“What do you think?” I asked him.
Stratton tapped some of the ash off his cigarette on the railing and spoke evenly. “I think Dahlia is going to deal with issues following the trauma this caused her…but I don’t think she’s lying.” He sighed. “The woman openly admitted to wanting to marry us, agreed to live together, and said she wanted to have not one, but possibly six to eight kids with us. I don’t think you have nearly as much to worry about as you’re thinking. Dahlia is strong, she just will need to adjust to this new lifestyle. I mean, hell, I’m in the same boat.”
His words seemed to calm my brother, who chuckled. “Yeah, she did agree to have kids with us.”
“I still think ten is a better option.” King sighed.
“Just want to keep her pregnant forever?” I mused.
King flashed a grin. “Pretty damn good way of showing that she’s claimed… Well, besides a ring. We need that for sure.”
“How are we going about that?” Yates asked curiously.
This had been a long-held debate, how we would do the engagement ring. The issue was that all of us had a very different idea of what Dahlia would want…or maybe what we wanted for Dahlia. Which was the problem. I was starting to understand, though, that what she wanted and what we wanted for her were probably somewhat different.
“Big. Very visible,” King suggested.
Stratton chuckled. “She’s supposed to like the ring, King—it’s not for you.”
King shot him a look and crossed his arms. “Alright Stratton, you show me what you think she would like, because we haven’t been able to— Shit, that is perfect.”
I flashed a smile as Stratton immediately pulled out his phone, clicking on an app and tossing it King’s way.