Page 43 of Branson's Promise

“When did you decide to get into tattooing?” I asked.

“After my mother died, I couldn’t bring myself to paint again - that had been her favourite medium - and my father cleared outall her things. He threw away everything she had created, wiped all of her art and her essence away. He spared nothing, not even a single drawing.” Darkness flashed in his eyes and he turned away from us, looking down at his drink, clearing his throat before continuing.

“From then on, I would only sketch, filling hundreds of notebooks. One day, when I was around seventeen, I happened across one of those television shows where people get their tattoos fixed up. That’s when the idea came to me. I wanted to do that - not fix up people’s tattoos - but give them a piece of art they could love and cherish. Something permanent. Something no one could ever throw away.”

God, my heart cracked at the sadness in his voice. How could his father do that to him? I’d be so lost without the bits and pieces of my father I still kept at home. The letter, the model car we’d built together one summer, the silly theme park photos he adored, the mugs he’d collected - all of the memories that made up my childhood.

“Your work is incredible and I hope one day, I get to hang a piece of your art in our home.” Noel’s eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiled and Milo returned it, his mood lifting.

“Well tomorrow, I’ll be the proud owner of art by the great Milo Montague, on my ass.” I said playfully and Milo coughed, choking on his soda, while Noel scoffed at the two of us.

“Sure thing, gorgeous, anything you want.” Milo’s lips tipped into an adorable smirk “Right, ready for the next part of the date?”

The three of us sat at a table laid with a red and white chequered tablecloth and ate from two large cheesy pizzas. We were at a small mom and pop place that Milo claimed was the ‘best pizzain the world’. “You cannot tell me you’ve had better pizza than this!” He exclaimed, taking another bite.

Noel and I shared a look, grinning at Milo’s enthusiasm. “I will admit,” Noel started, “that as far as American pizza goes, this is very good. I would not however call it the best in the world.” Milo scowled at Noel, feigning offence.

“Let me guess, you went on your fancy jet to Italy and ate the best pizza there?” There was no malice to Milo’s words. He’d been more accepting of Noel’s extravagance lately.

Noel chuckled, but I replied before he could say anything. “I took a budget flight to Rome once and thatiswhere I had the best pizza in the world.”

Milo cracked out a wicked smile, shaking his head at me while Noel nodded. “Florence. Best I’ve ever tasted. And yes, I took the jet.”

“Show offs, the both of you,” Milo joked and I mentally added ‘take Milo to Italy for the best pizza’ to my list of things to do with my boyfriends.

We joked around for a little longer before sharing a tiramisu and gelato, then took a short walk to work off the carbs before Milo hailed a taxi and not long later we were outside a bar slash nightclub. Music pumped out the large front doors as we stepped inside and made our way to the bar. Milo insisted we do some shots and we did, the cold, bitter liquid settling heavily in my stomach. After my second one, my stomach cramped slightly, but I shook it off, sure I'd probably just eaten too much.

“Do you want to dance, kitten?” Noel asked, his hot breath brushing against my ear, while his one hand gripped my hip and the other wrapped around Milo’s neck, pulling him towards us. If either of them were nervous about being seen together in public, they never showed it. And I couldn’t care what anyone thought. These two made me happy. They were mine. I kissed Noel, his warm lips were sweet and tinted red from the winehe was drinking and I pressed my tongue inside to get a better taste. All the while he held on tightly to Milo. Breaking the kiss, I turned to my other boyfriend and pressed my lips to his, tasting the tequila on his tongue.

Without another word, I walked backwards onto the dance floor, the two of them following me, one hand on my body and one gripping each other. Most nights, I was sandwiched between them in bed which I loved, but tonight I wanted to overwhelm Milo with affection. Stepping out of their holds, I turned Milo and pressed him forward so he was facing Noel. Noel needed no instruction, dragging Milo flush against him and placing one hand on the back of Milo’s neck. Then, I stepped up behind Milo and crushed my smaller frame to his, wrapping an arm around his waist. His body relaxed and the three of us moved to the beat of the music, locked in our own little bubble.

I love them, I thought.I love them.

Chapter 23

Noel

“Ithink I’m gonna be sick again,” Branson murmured as I helped him into the hotel room. Juliet bounded over to greet us and Milo scooped her up and placed her on the sofa.

The night had been going well until Branson had suddenly felt ill. He’d stopped drinking, switching instead to soda and had been almost impossible to drag off the dance floor until he’d suddenly gone pale and dashed to the club's toilets. I had called Raymond soon after and he’d driven us home.

“I’m not sure you have much left in you.” I scrunched up my nose at the thought, knowing I owed a huge apology to Raymond and a full clean of my car tomorrow. “Let’s get you in the shower, love. Come on.” Branson whined, clutching his stomach and trying to drag himself in the direction of the sofa, but I managed to lead him towards the bathroom.

“I don’t know what’s causing this. Maybe something I ate,” he moaned, leaning over the basin, rubbing furiously at his belly.

Milo appeared at the door, holding a glass of water. He was also covered in Branson’s vomit. “You’re going to need to get in too,” I said, tipping my head towards him.

Focusing back on Branson, I gently turned him until he was facing me. Then I pulled off his sweat and vomit-soaked polo and undid the zip on his jeans. Holding his waist with both hands, I bent down, working the skin tight denim over his legs, trying to ignore the bright blue lace that greeted me. I pulled it down until he was completely naked.

“I wore these for you two. I had so many dirty plans for tonight,” he sulked, then doubled over again, holding his stomach and writhing in pain.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Bran, but let’s get you cleaned up and into bed. We can take a rain check on those dirty plans, yeah?” Milo asked, handing Branson the glass of water. He straightened up, took a large gulp then spun around and promptly threw it up again.

Milo rubbed his back until he coughed, took a deep breath and started moving towards the toilet. Groaning as he walked, he stumbled slightly, and I caught him from behind, pulling him to rest against my chest.

“Just got a little dizzy for a moment. Need to pee.” His words came out in a rasped whisper, as though it was taking a great deal of energy to talk.

“Can I help you?” I asked quietly, guiding him the last few steps to the toilet. He rested his head back on my shoulder, using my body as support, much like he had done the first time we’d done this at the wedding.

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