Page 37 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

She tugs her leg out of my grasp. I let her.

"What does that mean?"

"Silas said your talk went well yesterday, that you seemed okay. Did something happen between then and now?"

A shadow crosses her face. The candles in the room, several of which light the white tile, cast just as many dark shadows as they do glowing light. "Delaney came over."

"What the fuck? Why can't that bitch just leave you the fuck alone?"

"She said some things…"

I growl under my breath. This fucking woman, I swear to god. "Okay, what did she say? Let's talk about this. Because I thought we came to an understanding the other night. I thought it was clear what I wanted. I thought we both admitted to the shit we'd found lacking in our relationship. So what did she convince you of?"

"Don't say it like that," she sighs.

"Like what?"

"Like I don't know my own mind."

I want to snap and be fucking angry. I know Lucy's fragile; I know this. Which is why Delaney pisses me off so much, because she takes advantage of that.

So, I take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Tell me what happened."

Lucy runs her hand through the bubbles while she gathers the words and the confidence to tell me what she's thinking and feeling. Softly, she says, "Does it seem more likely that you want me to be with you and your friends? Or does it seem more likely that I caught you at a sex club and you made up an excuse for being there?"

"You told her about that?" I ask, surprised.

She shakes her head. "No, she said some other stuff." She waves her hand in the air. "I don't trust or believe Delaney, Mateo. I'm not stupid. I didn't know she was that cruel, but she made some good points. You don't come home sometimes. You're on your phone all the time. I feel like I barely get to seeyou. And yeah, maybe she did plant some doubts, and maybe I'm stupid for letting her, but Mateo, a sex club? I just—" she shakes her head again, eyes watering.

I fucking hate seeing Lucy cry. Without overthinking it, I reach across the massive jet tub and gather her in my arms. Surprisingly, she lets me pull her onto my lap, her naked flesh slippery and soft beneath the depths of the water. She rests her head against my chest, snuggling close. Despite still feeling doubts, she seeks comfort with me.

Absently running my fingers through her hair, I try to explain. It was stupid of me to think our five-minute talk at Atrium was enough to explain what I'd been feeling for months. It was unfair of me to expect her to jump on board, no questions asked. Lucy's a planner. She's anxious and nervous, and needs to know all aspects of a thing. If we go to dinner and try a new place, she texts me a full menu in advance, an overview of their busiest times, debating all contingencies whether we meet there or at home. She's organized and thoughtful and sweet and I'm a fucking asshole for dumping all my dark shit on her lap and expecting her to just accept it.

"I love you Lucy."

"I know, Mateo, I lo—"

"No, just. Let me get this out." I kiss her temple. "I love you. And you're enough. I need you to know, you're enough. Do you believe me?"

After a beat, she nods.

I continue, "I don't come home every single night. And while I didn't outright lie, I let you assume I was working all night, but I wasn't always. I'm sorry. Mostly, I'm at the office. But, on other occasions, I was with Noah and Silas, catching up with them, crashing at their place in my old room. I didn't admit that at the time because then I'd have to explain them."

"People have friends, Mateo. I wouldn't have immediately assumed you wanted me to have sex with them. That's kind of a leap." I can practically feel her eyes roll, making me chuckle.

"You're right. I'm… private. I don't mean to be, it's not intentional. I'm not trying to keep things from you, I just thought if I mentioned them, you'd want to meet them, and I knew they'd want to meet you, which is why I didn't tell them about you either, not until last week. It's really hard to explain, Lucy. How I feel, the places my brain goes.

"I'm obsessive with work. You know this. And I disappear into that, it's the only reason I'm on my phone as much as I am. I'm either texting you, them, or working. That's it. There's no mystery. I'm not up to something nefarious. I'm just… busy. Which is why it's always worked in the past, dating with them. If we met someone at the club, I could give her half my attention, knowing they'd pick up the slack."

She stiffens in my arms, and I don't blame her. Before she jumps to the wrong conclusions, I keep going. "I never wanted to give you half my attention, Lucy. You're the first person I've ever met that… goddamn, I fucking love you. I want to give you my all. But that means I want to provide for you, too. I think about our future. About stability. About you feeling safe and cared for. It's a cycle, because I only end up working more, taking on more projects."

"I don't care about money, Mateo. I'd rather have you."

I nod, "I know. I do know that. I'm trying to be better. I'll be better for you, I swear." She relaxes slightly, so I hug her tighter. "I can give you my all, but I still think you deserve more. And I love them, too. That's the part that's hard to explain, and I didn't think I could when we first started dating, or when I first realized it felt like you were… the one."

And she is. The one I want to spend my life with. We've never talked this deeply about our future before. She tried whenI bought the apartment and we moved in together, but I was worried I'd scare her off, so I just implied it made smart financial sense to share space. She makes decent money as an influencer, but she's not wealthy.

"Are you three…" she clears her throat, "umm, involved?"

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