Page 65 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

“Yes,” I say instantly.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s settled. I’m going to go get four beers and when I get back, we’ll figure this out.”

He stands, grabs the Trivial Pursuit box from the coffee table, and walks off.

I feel better already, even if I also feel like an idiot for not thinking of any of that. It does explain why Gavin hasn’t been upset, though: he had the answer all along.

It shakes me out of my funk, so I finally stand, stretch, help Cash and Slate off the floor. Gavin comes back, four beers in his big hands, and makes us all toast.

“To Larkin,” he says, grinning. “May love always overcome simple problems.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Larkin

I thinkI hate this painting. I’ve been working on it, on and off, for the whole time I’ve been at the retreat and it’s still wrong.

Worse, I have no idea why it’s wrong, so I keep hitting the same dead ends over and over again. Usually, when I don’t like something I’ve painted, I know why: the colors are off, the perspective is wonky, there’s a curve here when it should be a straight line, etc.

But this one? I have no clue. I just know that I look at it and dislike every single thing I see but can’t put my finger onwhy.

I sigh, shoving my hair out of my face. I’m probably smearing gray on my forehead, but I don’t care. I just want this done and finished with so I can let it go, but it refuses.

That happens sometimes, too. Paintings justrefuseto be finished and there’s more or less nothing I can do about it.

I just stare at it, feeling like I want to curl up in a ball and cry my eyes out. I can’t get this stupid painting right, I’m leaving soon, the guys haven’t evenmentionedwhat’s going to happen to us after this, so I guess after everything we’ve done, it’s over.

That’s almost the worst part of this, that I’m so much more upset than they are. Have they not noticed? Do they not mind?

Was this really just a temporary fling, and I’m the only one who didn’t pick up on that particular memo?

God, this sucks. It sucks and I’m stuck in this stupid hotel with no one besides the guys breaking my heart to talk to about it.

I take a deep breath, but I can’t stop two tears from rolling down my cheeks, even though I clench my jaw, trying to keep them away.

You’ll be okay,I tell myself over and over.

Maybe you could just leave tonight, before they know you’re gone.

That way you won’t even have to say goodbye.

Hell, Larkin.

You could leave right now.

My eyes fly open, and I’m staring at the painting again. It’s still wrong and I still hate it, but suddenly, I feel oddly free.

Fuck this painting.

Fuck this hotel.

Fuck this heartbreak. The guys will still be here when Poppy and William get back, and they can do whatever needs to be done. As for me, pretty much all the rest of my stuff is already packed — I shipped the other paintings out with the mail truck a few days ago, so it’s just this monstrosity.

And seriously, fuck this thing. It can stay here. It can go up in the hallway across from that weird screaming sheep, and they can live a very happy life together.

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