Page 84 of Her Holiday Heartthrobs

Sobering, Henry takes my hand, pulling away my defenses. “It was Sabrina. Jealous probably. She clung to me at the Christmas party.”

“And gave me unending stink eye. Yeah.” I nod. “That makes sense after she couldn’t sabotage my presentation.”

Taking a deep breath, I sigh. “It doesn’t matter right now.”

Their gloomy expressions return, like they’re afraid I might reject them after all that.

“I don’t expect you three to be perfect.” I meet Henry’s gaze meaningfully. “I’m certainly not. Besides, I love you. All three of you.”

The words are barely out of my mouth before they have me sandwiched between them again, being kissed and cuddled and loved.

“We’re going to need to rethink our sleeping arrangements,” Henry says as he peels my sweater off me.

“None of us want to be left without you for a moment.”

EPILOGUE: PAIGE

One year later

Paxton squeals as he tears into the wrapping paper of his biggest gift—a motorized Jeep he can drive himself, which I mean, I’m a bit terrified about, but all three men reassure me it’s safe. I still have reservations. But the joy on Paxton’s face is worth all the worry.

We decked out the living room with an over-the-top tree. After Paxton went to bed last night, we snuck down all of the wrapped presents—mostly wrapped by Jake because somehow he’s got a flair for it.

And we certainly have more space for decorating—which is Eli’s job—since Paxton and I moved into their place just after Valentine’s Day. Paxton is happy to have his own bed, and I’m happy to have the plush oversized mattress I share with Henry, Eli, and Jake every night.

But honestly, the days are even better. Waking up to overpriced coffee from Eli, a gourmet breakfast from Jake, a morning cuddle session with Henry and Paxton before he goes off to pre-K. The ride to work is usually a bit naughty—just enough to get us through until lunch.

We shuffled the offices around, giving the one next to Henry’s a private little joined room between them for obvious reasons. Mostly for quickies at lunch.

Well-deserved ones, mind you. Our redesign projects got so much positive feedback after the four of us officially announced our relationship, especially from the younger customer base we were targeting.

Jake also helped me buy enough stock to hold some sway at the board meetings, which put a serious crimp in Rockwell senior’s neck. I couldn’t be happier about it and neither could Eli, especially when I review the battles we wage each month. I never thought he’d get such a kick out of me telling off his dad, but he howls with laughter every time.

Probably the best part of the day is watching Paxton enjoy having three dads after not having one in his life for so long. He just shines.

And Dad is pretty happy about it all too, surprisingly. We try not to be overly touchy and kissy in front of him, but sometimes, it’s hard.

Eli slides onto the couch cushion beside me, draping his arm around my shoulders and planting a kiss on my temple. He hands me a hot apple cider and nuzzles me until I elbow him in the ribs.

“I can’t drink this with you rolling all over me like a cat.”

He purrs in my ear as a response, and I laugh, scrunching my neck as he rubs his beard against my sensitive skin.

“Need to get it in while I can. Before we go to Patrick’s.”

For the annual Christmas party. It’s a bigger affair than last year. Jackie is bringing his new boyfriend and Dad has a new friend showing up that I haven’t met before. By the way Dad is flustered, I’m pretty sure the new friend is a woman.

I really hope so. He deserves someone.

Eli nibbles on my ear and slides a hand into my hair. “It’s time for you to open your presents.”

“Mmm.” I sink into the way he rubs the back of my head, eyelids fluttering. “You’ll have to stop that then.”

He grunts, and a package appears on my lap.

I get a sip of my hot cider before Jake’s big hands take my cup from me. The box is plain white with a red bow, and I can already smell the sweetness awaiting me inside. I pop the bow string and pull the lid up. Inside are a dozen elegant French eclairs. My mouth waters on sight, and I take the small green one first—pistachio.

I moan around the mouthful as the box disappears from my lap. I laugh. “Those are the ones I was watching Chef Marius make on YouTube.”

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