The door to my bedroom opens, interrupting my thoughts as Trace steps in, wearing only a towel.
Bree continues to blabber in my ear about what-ifs and what-nows, but my attention fixates on Trace, on the definition of muscle along either side of his spine as he stands in my closet, selecting something to wear.
I feel like a hussy, imagining one naked man and two seconds later, ogling another. My ability to switch so easily from Cole to Trace and back again is upsetting. It shouldn’t be that way, but I don’t know how to shut off my feelings.
“Are you shitting the bed right now?” Concern spikes through Bree’s voice. “Oh my God, does that mean you’re engaged to both of them?”
“I don’t know what it means.”
“Oh, Danni. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. You love them both so much.” Her whisper rasps through the phone. “There’s no way you can choose between them.”
Cole suggested I keep his connection to Trace a secret. It opens too many questions that would raise suspicion. Since Bree thinks he and Trace just met, she has no idea how deep the heartache goes. Whoever I don’t choose doesn’t just lose his fiancé. He loses his best friend, too.
Trace releases the towel at his waist and drops it to the floor. My nostrils widen with a sharp breath, my gaze sliding over the hard flanks of his backside. He’s ridiculously, beautifully sculpted, with layers of lean muscle, a high tight ass, and long legs, all enwrapped in taut flawless skin.
He glances over his shoulder at me, and whatever he sees on my face makes him smirk. Without looking away, he slowly, methodically, pulls on a pair of black boxer briefs, followed by charcoal slacks, letting both hang low on his butt without zipping up.
“Tease,” I mouth.
His smirk transforms into a full-fledged grin that cartwheels across the space between us and hits me square in the chest. His smiles are so rare that when he gifts me one, I hold it tight to my heart.
“Do you want me to come over?” Bree asks. “Angel has a soccer game in a couple hours, but I’m free until then.”
“No, they’re both here, and I need to hash things out with them.”
Trace loses his grin and turns back to the rack of clothes.
“This is crazy.” Bree exhales. “Do you have a plan?”
“Do I ever?”
“No, but surely you have some idea of what you’re going to do.”
Trace emerges from the closet, tucking a white button-up into the open fly of his slacks. I have a fascination with watching him put himself together. His meticulous movements, attention to detail, the way his hands move confidently over his body—it’s as if every action is intended to seduce. He’s too damn sexy for his own good.
He finishes dressing and approaches the bed, with a curious glint in his eyes. His blond hair brushes his brow, not yet tamed for the day. Stubble dusts his jaw, waiting to be shaved. Yet he looks like he’s ready to take on the world, prowling toward me in that effortless way he moves, his suit molding to every delicious inch of his frame.
“Hang on a minute,” I say to Bree and mute the phone.
He places a knee on the mattress and leans over me to graze his lips against my cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” My veins flood with warmth as I recall something he said the day Cole returned.
You’re all that I am, and the moment I accepted that, protecting you was no longer a favor or a job. It became a prerogative.
“When did you know you loved me?” I run a hand through the corn-silk strands of his hair.
He slants into my touch and sighs. “The first time I saw you at Bissara—”
“When you went there to check up on me.”
“To watch over you and keep you safe.” He turns his head and kisses my wrist. “I walked in and saw you dancing. I haven’t caught my breath since.”
My heart skips, knocking the wind from my lungs.
“When did you know you loved me?” His blue eyes bore into mine.
“When you gave me the concert ticket for Beyoncé.” I grin.
His expression falls, and he nods stiffly. “That’s the night you saw me with that woman on my lap.” A tic bounces in his jaw. “It was all for show. You know that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry. Despite what I said that morning in your basement, I never wanted to hurt you. I made so many foolish attempts—”
“I understand why you did it.” I trail my fingers along the honed lines of his face and shift back, glancing at my phone. “I need to finish this call with Bree. I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”
Dense lashes fringe pale blue eyes that roam over my features, as if absorbing every detail to memory.
“Take all the time you need.” He rises from the bed, straightens his collar, and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.
With a heavy exhale, I un-mute the phone. “I’m back.”
“You need to date both of them,” Bree bursts out, loud and rushed, as if the words were burning her lips for weeks rather than the thirty seconds I had her on hold. “Two men. Lots of sex. That’s an order.”
“I’m not doing that.” I press the heel of my hand against my chest and whisper, “It’s selfish.”
“You know what? Fuck that. For once in your life, you’re going to put yourself first. Jesus, Danni, you give and give until you have nothing left. You love with all your heart, and you never ask anything from anyone. You don’t even know the meaning of selfish.”
The shower shuts off in the next room, reminding me how thin the walls are.
“I’m going to turn on some background noise.” I slide off the bed and grab my tablet from the dresser.
A moment later, Issues by Julia Michaels strums through the bedroom.
“You know them, Bree.” I move to the full-length mirror on the wall beside the closet door and flatten a hand against the glass. “We’re not talking about your everyday, passive men here. They’re overbearing, jealous, growly cave-grunters who don’t share their toys.”
“You’re not a toy,” she says harshly.
Cole used to call me his dirty little fuck doll, and it turned me on like nothing else. But I’ll keep that tidbit to myself.
“Figure of speech. You know what I mean.” The crisp plucky notes of the song snap through me, gripping my hips and hooking me into the rhythm. “I’m not going to string them along.”
“You didn’t put yourself in this position.” She blows out a breath. “Cole did this.”
Trace played a part as well, but she doesn’t know that. It’s something I’ll have to keep in consideration if she starts rallying for Trace, which is likely since she was never a Cole fan.
Examining my form in the mirror, I ripple my core, sending vibrating waves of motion to my ribcage and pelvis. As the melody races up and down the scale, I hold my hand against the glass and twitch my hips to the contrasting beats, as if dancing with my reflection.
“You need time,” she says. “Am I right?”
“That’s exactly what I need. I feel so blindsided by this I’ve been walking in a fog for the past week.” I sway my head through the song’s haunting chorus. “This is a for-the-rest-of-my-life kind of decision, you know? But how long can I drag it out before it becomes a pathetic excuse for procrastination?”
“For however long it takes. They love you. They wouldn’t be there if they didn’t. So they’ll wait for you. They’ll wait indefinitely, while you figure out which one deserves you the most. Meanwhile, you need to spend time with them. Get to know them on every level under the sun and…under the covers—”
“Bree—”
“Enjoy yourself. Enjoy them. Let it evolve naturally, organically. As you spend time with each of them, you’ll gravitate toward one more than the other.”
“What if I don’t?” I splay my fingers over the reflection of my face as the song slows.
“What if you do? Think of it like one of those online dating sites. Except you don’t have an algorithm narrowing down the choices. You already know your top two picks. You don’t have to weed through hundreds of overinflated profiles or go on dozens of painful dates. You’ve vetted two candidates, and you know you’re matched in every way.”