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It was beyond a lot. I could see everything we’d been working toward slipping away from me.
Letting my head fall back on the couch, I tried to do the coping technique my dad had taught me for whenever I couldn’t make a decision. I imagined the best-case scenario. That was us moving in with Rocco, and he turned out to be a eunuch with no interest in my girl, and we lived in a blissful kind of solidarity.
Then I imagined the worst-case scenario, though there were several that got progressively worse. She left us, and I’d fucked my chance at happiness. Worse again, she stayed and lost custody of Bobbi-June.
Then I imagined the likely outcome if Rocco and Tally got married. We all moved into his mega-mansion and lived in cordial harmony. Eventually, Rocco made a move on my girl, and she fell into bed with him. I mean, they’d be married, and I was secure enough to admit that Rocco Passero was a devilishly handsome guy. We added him to the relationship we had here for a few years, and either he stayed or we parted ways at the end.
Which outcome is worse—the likely outcome or the worst-case scenario? Because it will always end up in the worst-case scenario, if you dither too long. He who hesitates is lost.
I blew out a breath. “I’m with you, whatever you decide. We’ll work through this, just like everything else,” I told her, and the relief on her face made me feel like shit. I cuddled closer to her, wrapping her sweet body in my arms. “You’re mine, Tally. And if I have to share you, it doesn’t make you any less mine.” I kissed her softly, letting her melt against me with a soft sigh.
Jesse sat on her other side, his gaze meeting mine over her head. Ours, his eyes said.
I nodded. Let’s show her that.
THIRTY
TALLY
We sat at a diner in Avalon, waiting for Rocco to arrive. I’d decided that it was probably best if we all talked, without our boss or his lawyers being present. There were wrinkles that needed to be ironed out, ground rules that needed to be laid down to keep everyone comfortable.
I rubbed my temples. Jesus Christ, if you’d told me eight months ago that I’d be negotiating a marriage contract with Rocco Passero, along with my two other boyfriends, I would have laughed in your face.
Jesse held Bobbi-June in the crook of his arm, and it was insane to see how much she’d grown already. Every morning, I woke up and looked at her, thinking she’d gotten somehow bigger while I was sleeping. However, she still fit perfectly in his long arms, head pillowed against his bicep.
“I’m going to stress-eat my weight in pancakes,” I grumbled at the guys.
The bell over the door jingled, and I looked up to see an incognito Rocco appear. Honestly, he probably didn’t need to worry too much. He was a huge name in Europe, but most people here didn’t follow Formula One. Or if they did, they weren’t expecting to see one of the best drivers of the twenty-first century here in some dingy little diner. But the Clark Kent effect definitely worked, because no one even raised an eyebrow.
Okay, that was a lie. One grandma definitely checked out his ass.
He shook hands with Hayes and Jesse in that manly way guys do, like it was some kind of display of strength. However, I was surprised when he leaned in and kissed both of my cheeks. I flushed, hoping the guys would just write it off as embarrassment.
“It is good to see you,” he said to none of us in particular. “Best thing about being out this season is the food. Is it too early for a burger and fries?”
The guys just continued to glare, so I shook my head. “It’s never too early for a burger. Thanks for coming, by the way.”
He shrugged. “Well, theoretically, you might be my wife soon. It’s probably best that we get started on the one big happy family thing, right?”
Jesse shook his head. “Why would you even agree to this? There must be a hundred women who’d happily marry you. And that’s just in a five-mile radius of this diner. What do you actually get out of this arrangement?”
Rocco was prevented from answering by the waitress. She was in her fifties and looked done with her shift already. “Ready to order?”
I nodded. “I’ll have the egg white omelet and a Diet Sprite.”
Hayes looked at me. “What happened to the pancakes?”
I poked my stomach, which still hadn’t snapped back, though it wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined it would be. “I have to get back to race weight.”
He frowned, but nodded. Being a driver was a subtle balance between being strong enough to withstand the tough racing conditions, and being light enough that your added weight didn’t slow down the car. It wasn’t such a big problem in stock car racing, but in open-wheel racing, where everything was measured down to the gram? A stack of pancakes could be the difference between winning or losing.
Sure, I wasn’t racing anytime soon, but I wanted to get the best out of the car, so they knew what it was truly capable of.
Hayes ordered a trucker’s breakfast, and Jesse ordered the pancakes. “We can share,” he said, winking at me. I mean, I wasn’t going to turn down pancakes, and if I didn’t order them myself, they were basically calorie free. Those were the rules.
Rocco looked up with a smile that seemed to stun the waitress, her eyes widening and her jaw going a little slack. “I will have the burger, rare please, with extra home fries.”
The waitress—Patty, according to her name badge—blinked several times and mumbled about it coming right up before scurrying away.
