Page 68 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

I’m speechless. I have no idea what to say. I’ve never heard of anything like this before, but already visions are dancing through my head: a sunny loft somewhere in Brooklyn, gig posters I’ve designed for them lining the walls, my paintings standing around on easels in bright sunlight.

Driving from city to city with my guys, painting. I’d be able to see so much stuff, paint so many new things.

And I’d get to be with them, all the time.

This could beamazing.

“Lark?” Gavin asks softly, his hand moving to my shoulder. “You interested?”

That’s when I realize that I haven’t actually said anything, I’ve just been standing there with my mouth open, gawping.

“Yes,” I say instantly. “Yes! I’d love that!”

Slate pulls me in, his strong arms surrounding me instantly. I fall into him, breathing his scent deeply. I’m trying not to cry again, not from sadness but from the extreme emotional reversal of the last five minutes.

This means it’s real. This means we’re staying together, that I get to see them every day even when they’re out on tour.

That they want to still see me in a month, in two months, in a year…

Another thought hits me, right then.

Maybe this is it for me.

Can you marry four people at once?

Gavin wraps his arms around both Slate and me, and now I’m buried in men. I can barely see the overhead lights, as one and then the other kisses me on top of my head.

“Group hug!” Cash calls out, and then he’s there, too, along with Dalton. I’m right in the middle, and I can’t even move, but I’ve never been happier.

They’re my guys.Myguys, and I finally feel like I can really say that.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Larkin

“You’ve put it too far,”Dalton complains, reaching one arm out.

Cash looks over his shoulder.

“You’re not even trying,” he says. “Come on, it’s few more inches. Put your back into it.”

Dalton straightens up, pushing his shoulders out of the hot spring, his fingertips grazing the champagne bottle that Cash stuck in one of the few remaining snow drifts.

“I believe in you,” Cash says laconically, relaxing back into the hot water, watching Dalton struggle to reach the champagne.

I’m trying not to laugh. Slate and Gavin are both drinking their own champagne from plastic cups, watching Dalton with mild amusement.

“Almost there,” Gavin offers.

Dalton grunts, lunges, and finally grabs it.

We all cheer as he pours it into his own plastic cup, then sets it back down.

“Don’t put it there, it’s got to stay cold,” Cash teases.

Dalton snorts, taking a long drink of champagne.

“Let’s drink it before that happens,” he suggests. “Who needs a refill?”

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