Page 42 of Branson's Promise

Pushing Noel back a step, I broke the kiss but he wasn't about to let me go. “About the cat, I don’t think Branson and I can keep her at ours because of our lease. I could give her to Mia, I guess. As long as we find her a good family, I’ll be happy.”

“Keep her if you want.” Noel nuzzled his nose up the curve of my neck before he continued speaking, his breath tickling my skin. “She can stay here.” With one final kiss, he pulled upright and turned to face Branson. “We actually do allow pets in this hotel. You’d be surprised how many celebs like to travel with their furry companions.”

I smiled at Noel and his easy going nature where we were concerned. I knew in business he was different - more demanding and critical - but this Noel was all ours. Our caretaker and protector. Our sun that kept us warm, chasing away the dark and cold. He glowed in a way only something precious could and my blood burned a little hotter in his presence.

“You hear that, little thing? You have a new family,” Branson said and my heart tripped over itself, stumbling over the word he’d just used to describe us.Family.I marvelled at the ease at which it had fallen from his lips. No one had a bigger, more welcoming heart than Branson.

I sat next to him, then gestured for Noel to join us. He took up the other side of me and I rested my head on his shoulder while he snuck a hand under my shirt and danced his fingers along my bare skin, closing my eyes and focusing on the sensations and the scent of their combined colognes in the air.

Branson continued to chatter to Juliet, muttering, “I'm ticking you off my list.” Noel trembled beneath me, suppressing a laugh and I wondered which one of his many lists included a stray cat,but I was too happy listening to him to interrupt, making a note to ask him later.

This moment, this comfortable, quiet moment was the most content I had ever felt and I owed it all to the two men surrounding me. There were still days I didn’t feel worthy of being in this with them - days when I didn’t see what I had to offer but never once did they make me feel those feelings were justified. So I did the only thing I could and placed my trust in them both. I just hoped that nothing would ruin what we were building together.

Chapter 22

Branson

Embrace art, food and culture. Discover cities and countrysides and all the wonders of the world.

“Give us a clue?” I asked, pressing Milo for hints about the date he’d planned. It had been two weeks since he’d brought Juliet back to the hotel and more than a week since either of us had been back to our apartment. We’d fallen into a routine that had all of us returning from work tothe suite at The Starlight where we would eat together, watch TV, talk until all hours of the night and explore each other’s bodies until we were all exhausted. In short, it was perfect and I wouldn’t complain if we never went back to our own beds. Being together felt natural.

Milo still tensed when I washed his back or ran my hands along his bare shoulders, though he never stopped me from touching him anywhere. My man was touch starved and he thrived on the gentle caresses Noel and I peppered him with every chance we got.

Noel had been a little off the last few weeks. Something was playing on his mind and despite me asking if he wanted to talk about it, he always brushed it off. Outwardly, he was his usual, cocky self - the powerful businessman who took shit from no one and treated us like royalty, but I could see it - in the tightness around his eyes, in his smile that wasn’t as big as usual and in the way he got lost in his own world, staring at his phone or out the window. Still, he maintained that nothing was wrong.

My two beautiful men. Stoic and stubborn.

“Nope,” Milo said, popping the p before sipping the last of his coffee. It was later afternoon and we were sitting in a café on 5th Avenue - the start of our official second date, not counting the dinners we had out together. It was early September, and the day was mild, so we’d grabbed a seat outside. The streets were busy and the few trees that were around were still green, not yet ready to accept the changing seasons.

“Are you working this weekend?” Noel asked Milo, who shook his head.

“Not officially, no, but I had thought that if Branson was ready, we could go in tomorrow and start on his tattoo.” Milo turned to me and I nodded enthusiastically. I had been happy with the design weeks ago, but Milo said it was missing something, so he had been working on it for the last few days, and though I gavesome input, it was mostly all his creation. “Great. Well, if you two are both done with your drinks, let's get going.”

Noel, Milo and I stood from the table, pushing our chairs in and putting on our coats. Standing between the two of them, we turned down the avenue and I linked my right hand with Milo’s. Our fingers twined together and he gave me a squeeze, meeting my eyes with a smile. With my left hand, I reached for Noel’s and mirrored the movement, linking our fingers together. He lifted our joined hands, kissing the back of mine before letting them drop.

Shortly after we’d left the cafe, we turned off 5th Avenue, hand in hand, and headed towards a large black and white fronted building with a sign that read “MoMA” on the side. I knew what it was but had never been inside before.

“Here we are,” Milo said, waving his hand and gesturing to the building. “The Museum of Modern Art. My favourite place in New York.”

“Fantastic choice. I haven’t been here in years.” Noel let go of my hand to come around and kiss Milo on the cheek.

“I spent a lot of time here, and at a few other museums in the city, when I was a teenager.” Milo started walking towards the entrance and we followed. We paid the entry and walked into the first gallery, following Milo's lead.

“So, you’ve always wanted to be an artist then?” Noel asked as we walked through a gallery of drawings and paintings.

“For as long as I can remember. I’ve always loved sketching and when my mom was alive, we used to paint together. I haven’t painted in years though. After she died, I couldn’t bring myself to get back into it without her.” He shrugged his shoulders, not turning to look at us. This was the first time he’d ever mentioned his mother to us, the first time he’d mentioned any of his family other than Mia. Sadness crept into my heart atthe thought of a little Milo losing his mom and never painting again.

We had a lot in common, Milo and me, though I think we handled our grief differently. He closed parts of himself off where I opened myself up, grabbing every adventure or experience I could to make my father proud and keep my promise to him. There was no right or wrong way to grieve - the heart and soul did what it could to get by without that missing piece.

Turning to face Milo, who was studying a watercolour painting, I asked, “Do you think you’ll start painting again?” His brow furrowed and he bit his bottom lip before answering.

“I hope so.” There was so much unsaid in his reply but I didn’t press. Instead, I took his hand and gazed at the painting with him, not knowing what exactly I was looking at. On his other side, Noel wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer.

We spent the next hours wandering the various galleries of modern art until it was nearing closing time. I knew nothing about art so I waited for Milo to explain various pieces to us or I simply tried to interpret things for myself.

“You got into art when you were young, through your mum, I presume?” Noel asked once we’d stopped at one of the bars inside for a drink. Milo sipped on his soda, then nodded.

“Mom was a kindergarten teacher before she had us. After I was born, she gave up working but she would run classes for kids at a community centre and in her free time she’d either be painting or sculpting. She taught me how to sketch, how to select the right pencils and on the weekends we’d grab supplies and then spend hours working together on a project.”

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