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I shrug. “I guess I still want to believe in happy endings.”
I want to say more. I want to tell him that I’m starting to hope mine is here, with him and Jarek and Pascal. But I bite it back. A confession like that would send him running, especially right after he’s opened up like this.
Thankfully, Pascal and Jarek show up right then, before either of us can say something we can’t take back.
“Hey!” Jarek grins as they walk over.
Pascal starts to say hello, then stiffens, his eyes fixed on something behind us.
Zander follows his gaze. “What is it?”
A photographer is wedged between two vendor booths, camera in hand. Another sneaky photo could mean another scandal. Thankfully, I don’t think he caught anything. We were just sitting on a bench talking. And Zander’s arm around me could easily be explained by the cold.
“I don’t think he got anything,” Jarek says. “Looks like he’s just waiting for us to give him something.”
“Which we won’t,” Pascal says firmly.
We start walking around the market, and the photographer disappears into the crowd. None of us mentions him again, but I’m sure we’re all thinking about what we have to lose.
My career can’t survive another scandal. Jarek just blew off his studio today. Pascal would have to answer to his family, who are obsessed with their image. And Zander could lose investors if his name ends up in the tabloids.
Keeping what we have away from the cameras isn’t about being ashamed of it. It’s about what it could do to the lives we’ve all worked so hard to build. Once people decide what they think about you, it’s almost impossible to change their minds. I learned that the hard way with Reid.
Still, the scare doesn’t last, and soon we’re having a great time again.
“Did they switch out some vendors?” I ask as we pass a table of handblown glass ornaments. “I don’t remember these.”
Pascal nods as we stop to look at the ornaments glittering under the string lights. “Some artisans stay the whole month. Others only rent for half, and then someone new moves in. It keeps things fresh.”
He picks up a glass strawberry with a little loop at the top for a hook. Fresh is one way to put it. This whole month has been the most exciting of my life. Three gorgeous men, a fairytale house, and sex better than anything I ever imagined. I don’t want to wake up from any of it.
Except for one thing.
I still haven’t been with Pascal. Not like that. And standing here, watching him turn the glass strawberry over in his fingers, I want him so badly it hurts.
“That’s really pretty,” I say.
“Do you want it?” He’s already signaling the vendor to wrap it, not waiting for my answer. “It’ll look nice on the tree.”
I smile and agree. After he pays, he hands me the box. It’s wrapped beautifully, with red velvet ribbon tied into a bow on top. When I take it, I let my fingers brush his. I can’t help it.
Pascal’s fingers linger on mine, and when his eyes meet mine, I forget how to breathe.
Jarek and Zander notice too. They exchange a look and smile, like they’ve been waiting a long time to watch Pascal crack. But he doesn’t. He lets go. And I’m sure he’ll never let me in. Not that way.
Maybe I should tell him that I want more than this short time we have together in Colorado. I know he wants me just as much as I want him. But that would create complications I can’t even fathom. Because I don’t just want something long-term with him; I want something long-term with all of them.
An impossible dream.
So instead of saying anything, I just enjoy the moment, wandering the market with three men I’ve fallen for way faster than I ever thought I could.
When we’re ready to leave, I walk with Zander toward his car, since we rode here together. But when I reach for the door, Jarek steps in front of me.
“I’m riding with Zander, if that’s okay,” he says with a grin. “Pascal bored the shit out of me on the way here, talking about the gala. I need some silence.”
Zander stifles a laugh. I glance at Pascal, who rolls his eyes and opens his passenger door for me.
I don’t think twice about it. I get in, and we head back.
