Page 188 of Filthy Rich Santas

Finally, her sobs start to fade, and I clear my throat.

“We owe you an apology,” I start, knowing for sure I speak for all of us. “We shouldn’t have blurted out the fact that we were fucking like that without talking to you first.”

“We got carried away,” Tristan adds from the front seat, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror again. “It wasn’t our place to out our relationship in front of your family.”

“No.” Lana’s voice is hoarse but fierce as she lifts her head. “Don’t apologize. None of you. It’s not your fault.”

Beckett grunts, and she twists to face him, covering his mouth with her hand before he can argue the point.

“I said no.”

He stares at her, then captures her wrist, kisses the fingers she’s got pressed to his lips, and pulls her hand down to hold it over his heart.

“Thank you,” Lana whispers, drawing in a shuddering breath and wiping at her eyes with her free hand.

Then she straightens her spine and looks between the three of us with a determination blazing in her eyes.

“You were standing up for me,” she says softly. “And even though things… escalated, I don’t blame you for any of it. If anyone is to blame, it’s Wade for thinking he could just show up and take me back like that, like I’d be grateful after the way he treated me.”

My blood starts to boil at the reminder, and Beckett growls under his breath. But we both hold our tongues, because Lana’s not done.

“It’s my parents’ fault too,” she goes on, her voice hardening. “They’ve made me feel like I had to keep my whole life a secret, everything that actually mattered to me, just to earn their love. And when things went sideways tonight, they didn’t check to see whatIwanted. They didn’t… didn’t check on me at all.”

I tighten my arm around her as I remember the way her voice cracked when she called them out on their reaction to hearing about her lupus, a surge of protectiveness washing over me.

I can see Beckett’s hand clenching around hers as he has his own reaction to that, and Tristan’s knuckles go white on the steering wheel at the same time.

A feeling of bone-deep solidarity hits me, and I’m suddenly struck by how fuckingrightit is, after a whole fucking lifetime of avoiding getting trapped in a serious relationship, to be in one now.

Not just any relationship, and not just with Lana, but a relationshipwith my friendswith Lana.

There’s no one on this earth I trust to have my back more than the men in this car, and now that extends to protecting her too. And I’m not saying I wouldn’t want her if they didn’t, because nothing could make me not want to be with Lana. Ever. But sharing her with Tristan and Beckett?

It’s not just perfect; it’s whatever word there is for something that’s even better than that.

She looks between us again, a little smile hovering on her plush lips. “But you three?” she says softly. “I’m not mad at any of you for what you said back there. I don’t know what it would have taken for me to come clean to my family about our relationship, but no matter how it came about, I’m glad that it happened.

“I don’t want to hide how I feel about being with you. All of us together like this may not be what people expect, but I’m not ashamed of it. You three are… well, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Fuck,” Beckett says softly, almost reverently.

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut too, and I pull her closer, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Ditto,” I whisper.

Lana sighs, still subdued but more relaxed, and a few minutes later, we pull up to Tristan’s grandma’s house.

She’s expecting us since Tristan texted her on the way to fill her in, so it’s no surprise to see her already waiting for us on the porch. And as soon as we pile out of the car, she immediately heads toward Lana, tugging her right out of my arms and enveloping her in a massive hug.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Meg says, her voice warm and comforting. “You poor thing. Come here.”

Lana melts into the embrace, and I can see her shoulders start to shake again. But this time, it feels different. Like she’s releasing the last of her pent-up emotions in a safe space. Getting something she needs, something more parental, that the guys and I can’t offer her.

“Thank you,” Lana whispers, her voice muffled against Meg’s shoulder.

Meg pulls back, cupping Lana’s face in her hands. “You don’t need to thank me, dear. Now, let’s get you all inside and warm.”

We follow her into her cozy living room, settling onto various chairs and sofas. As soon as we do, Baldwin races into the room wearing another one of those tiny knitted sweaters Meg is always making for him.

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