Page 27 of The Final Straw

My eyes are closed and I’m snuggled under a blanket when the bed dips on either side, letting me know my men have arrived. Kipp pulls me closer, and I lay my head on his chest and Grady snuggles against my backside, wrapping an arm around my waist.

I’m warm and feeling on top of the fucking world between these two as I drift off to sleep.

Chapter 14

Olivia

Grady and Kipp insisted on going to brunch when we woke up. According to them, sleeping in is always a time for bottomless mimosas and brunch. So we’re in the car headed to Gwen’s. I’ve never been, but I’ve heard good things so I’m excited.

Kipp is driving, which surprised me. Since I’ve known them, we’ve ridden in the back together and Norbert has driven. It’s a breath of fresh air and a bit of normalcy.

We get to the little bistro and park. Kipp gets out and opens the door for us. I exit first, with Grady behind me. They each grab a hand and we enter the building, my fingers intertwined with theirs.

I expected stares or even the whole place to turn and gawk at us, since polygamy isn’t a huge thing, at least not around here. But no one pays attention; not a single person turns their head or blinks an eye, and for that, I am grateful.

We grab the first empty table we see since the place is pretty busy. Grady pulls my chair out for me and pushes me in after I sit down. The gentleman's manners on these two are off the charts. They might ruin me for anyone else ever again.

Our waitress comes over and asks for our drink order. We all opt for the bottomless mimosas. The guys get the run-of-the-mill orange juice flavor, while I get the tangerine juice.

“So we didn’t ask last night. How did your photo shoot go?” Kipp asks.

“It went really well, actually. My client was so fun to work with and she booked another session for some headshots before we were even done,” I tell them.

“That’s amazing, baby,” Grady praises.

“I’m not knowledgeable in photography, so how do you photoshop her images and give them to her? How does that work?” Kipp raises a brow my way. “Thank you,” he interrupts, nodding to our waitress as she sets our flutes down.

“Are we ready to order?”

“Yeah. Can I get the biscuits and gravy?” Kipp shuts his menu and hands it to her.

“Sure can. And for you, honey?” She looks at Grady. My lips curl and I can feel my jealousy rise at her calling him honey.

“I’ll take the same.”

“And you?” she directs at me.

“I’m gonna do that Brioche French Toast and a cinnamon roll.”

“Perfect. I’ll be back with those in no time.” She turns and begins to talk to the table next to us.

“Back to your question. Yes, I can edit them. That depends on what the client wants. I can go wild or just clear them up a bit. Then I send all the good shots to the client on a locked site and they can have whatever ones they want.”

“Interesting. You don’t charge per photo on top of the shoot fee?”

“No. Some do it that way, but I don’t and honestly don’t think I ever will. Sure, it would give me more money, but my clients like getting them all and I make enough. I don’t need to increase revenue.”

“Smart.” Kipp smirks over the top of the mimosa flute.

“Kipp, we should have Ollie take the new headshots for the company. We’ve been talking about updating them and now we have an in with a photographer,” Grady speaks animatedly.

“That is a good idea. When do you have availability?”

“I’m open whenever. I only have a few smash cakes and newborn sessions this week. Seems this is a busy time of year to have a baby.” I wink at them and Grady coughs.

Instantly, I regret my words. I was only trying to be cheeky since smash cakes are for first birthdays and newborn sessions are, well, for newborns. It’s just logical that last year and this year at this time people were having babies. But now I’ve made it seem like that’s what I want and while I’d love to have kids someday, that day is not today.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Shit, now I seem like a crazy person. I just mean that it seems this is the hot baby season. Since all my sessions are for new babies or one-year-olds. You understand? Ugh, I’m such a moron.”

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