Page 36 of Repluse

“No. You’ll finish telling Mila everything first. Then you can eat.”

Frankie’s green eyes meet mine, and I shrug. “Dude, don’t look at me for backup. I’m contemplating all the ways I might end your life given the opportunity, because right now, the flowers just aren’t even making a dent in the lengths you need to go to before getting any kind of forgiveness from me.”

“You really are a fucking ball buster, Mils. I should’ve just served you up to Logan on a plate and been done with you,” he calls as he heads out to the walk-in pantry, returning with a bag of veggie chips, and a tub of harissa spiced hummus. He sets his snack down on the island beside Sam, opens everything up, and tucks in. Sam joins him.

I finish eating my sandwich, loving the fact that, despite the tension, we still have the banter. This—whatever it is that’s happening between the three of us—is something I’ve never before experienced in my life. People that actually get me.

The food has made me feel somewhat better. The room has stopped tilting at least, but I still have the knot of dread in my belly, right along with my sandwich and tea as I wait to hear whatever the fuck else is about to be thrown my way.

Swinging my legs from the sofa, I take a moment before I attempt to stand.In a single moment, Sam is at my side, taking the plate from my hand. He hands it off to Frankie, who’s right behind him, still chewing on a mouthful of chips.

“I’m okay,” I announce.

“You went down hard earlier,” Sam says. “If I hadn’t caught you, you would’ve cracked your head and added even more bruises.”

He holds out a hand, I take it and pull myself up. I immediately feel a little dizzy so I don’t complain when he wraps his arm around me and pulls me into his side.

“Where we going?” he asks.

“The bathroom. Do you have a toothbrush I could use? Turkey melt and up chuck aren’t conducive to fresh breath.”

“Top drawer. Abby, my cleaning girl, usually keeps all the guest bathrooms stocked.”

“You have a lot of guests?” I ask, blatantly meaning ‘do you bring many women back here?’

“If by guests you mean women, hook ups, none, zero. This place is my escape. The only people who know about it are my parents, my sister, her husband and kids, Frankie, and now you. My family often stay for weekends whether I’m here or not, and I like to keep the cupboards stocked in case they forget anything.” He pauses at the bathroom door.

“I’m good from here,” I tell him. “You can go.”

“You’re still a little unsteady. I’ll wait.”

“Don’t listen.”

“Not promising anything,” he replies with a gentle slap to my arse.

I rush through everything I need to do, singing The Goo Goo Dolls’ “Iris” in my head to block out the manic thoughts currently rioting through my brain. If I let them in, I’m worried they’ll overwhelm me, and I’ll pass out like a pussy again.

Sam’s leaning one shoulder against the wall beside the door when I open it.

“Better?” he asks.

“Much,” I reply before he leads us back to the family room and kitchen.

“Where to?”

“The bench. At least we can all sit and chat together up there,” I say, noting the flowers are now in a vase sitting on the corner of the bench. They look stunning and very much remind me of the three of us. “And I’ll be close enough to belt our old mate with my cast if I feel the need.”

“Less of the old,” Frankie says, obviously aware that it’s him I’m likely to want to wallop.

Sam helps me up onto a stool, and both the boys go around to the other side. I take a handful of the veggie chips and dip them one at a time into the hummus. I’ve barely eaten a thing all week, and now, despite the tension, I’m ravenous.

Frankie collects three bottles of water from the fridge and places them in front of us. With both of them standing on the other side, I feel like it’s me against them, and I don’t like it, but I don’t voice my thoughts. I’ve gone through most of my life alone and lonely. Why should my wild venture into what I thought was a potential three-way affair be any different? The irony of being married to one man, having an affair with two others, and still feeling lonely isn’t lost on me, but my fight not to smile is obliterated by Frankie’s next words.

“Logan wasn’t playing golf last weekend, Mila. He was at the club both Friday and Saturday night. He’s been a regular for years.”

My hand goes to my mouth, and I close my eyes. Keeping them open is too much. I can’t process what my eyes are taking in along with the information I’ve just been given. The roomdoesn’t spin this time, but there’s a loud humming in my ears, or is it in my head? I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.

“I stood at Scott’s party, took in all the people living their dull little lives, and thought about how bored I was, and how I never wanted to be like them,” I eventually say.

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