Page 75 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

Cash grins and shrugs.

“I bet we could arrange it,” he says. “Our manager won’t freak out if we suddenly take all the money out of the bank as gold coins and fill a swimming pool with it, right?”

“One way to find out,” Dalton says.

We’re all standing in The Centennial’s garage, right next to my little white car, jam-packed with all my stuff.

This is it. This is the end of our joint artists’ residency, of our stay at The Centennial.

The three months that changed my life.

Well, this is it for about two weeks, at least. I’m spending two weeks back in California, wrapping up some stuff and breaking my lease.

Then I’m flying to New York. They’ve already gotten me a loft on the top floor of a building in Williamsburg, the same neighborhood they all live in. I haven’t been there, obviously, but I’ve seen pictures of the beautiful, light-filled space that’s absolutely perfect for painting all day.

The guys won’t tell me how much it cost. I know I could find out, but I kind of don’t want to — it feels like looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Besides the loft, they custom-ordered a truly enormous bed for me. Just in case they want to spend the night, they said.

I sigh, looking at each of them.

“I should go,” I say, something heavy and unpleasant settling into my chest. “But I don’t want to say goodbye.”

Gavin steps forward, taking me in his arms.

“It’s two weeks, love,” he says, his voice soothing as always. “And with everything you’ve got to get squared before you move, it’ll go by in the blink of an eye.”

I laugh softly into his shoulder.

“Thanks for reminding me,” I say.

He kisses the top of my head, then leans down, kisses me on the mouth. It’s long and slow, even though the other guys are watching.

Then he steps away, and Dalton steps up. We do the same: long hug, long kiss.

One by one I say goodbye to my guys, and even though I know it’s totally temporary, getting into my carsucks. Driving away from them, down The Centennial’s long snowy drivewaysucks.

At the very end of it, I stop at the main road. The roads are totally clear by now, but I still look at them in the rearview mirror. All four of them are waving, and I wave back.

I still can’t believe what happened. I’m a little bit afraid that, in a few minutes, I’ll wake up in my bed in California and realize that everything that’s happened over the last three months was just a crazy dream, and I’ve got the same life I’ve always had.

But my heart is full, fuller than it’s ever been. It’s full in a way I didn’t even know a heart could be full — bursting with love for four different men, each love a little bit different, totally unique.

It’s not the standard, and it’s definitely not for everyone. Explaining that I’ve got four boyfriends who are all totally cool with that fact is probably going to be the bane of my existence, but I don’t care.

I love my guys, and I know they love me right back.

And that’s all that matters.

Epilogue

Larkin

One Year Later

“Is this everything?”Cash asks, eyeing the pile of luggage, boxes, duffel bags, and various painting accoutrement that’s piled up in the middle of my loft.

“It’s not that much,” I say defensively.

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