Page 59 of Power Play with My Brother's Irish Friends

“Which means we need you to decide.” Charlie held my tear-soaked tissue in his fist, his face close enough for me to see the tiny scar deep in his eyebrow from a hockey game where he took a stick to the face. Duncan’s split brow had healed without stitches, but Charlie’s had needed three, and the resulting scar lifted that eyebrow just a tiny bit higher than the other. I focused on that, on the memories of each of us together, and fought my way to an answer.

Minutes ticked past, each one dragging longer than the previous one. Just when the tension built so taut that my soul threatened to crack, the door opened and a petite woman bustled in.

She set her hands on her hips and glared. “All right. All three of you, back up. Give her some room to breathe and let me do this test.”

I’d had a concussion test before, so none of her questions surprised me. I answered honestly. Yes to the headache and nausea. Yes to light hurting my eyes.

“Light concussion.” She ticked a few things off on a tablet. “Mmm-hmm. Yep. Right on the money. You’ll be going home today, but you’ll have some restrictions.” She rattled them off. Things like no watching TV or reading books. No prolonged access to my phone. I nodded with each directive, grateful for the reprieve from answering Charlie’s question. Who did I choose?

They all wanted me. None of them rejected me. The relief of it sent me back into the soft comfort the pillows provided. The nurse walked out, saying something under her breath about my guys. I fought down the smile that threatened. She had no idea how much I loved all three of them. “That’s the problem.” I spoke out loud even though none of them knew what I’d been thinking. “I love each of you for different reasons. But I love you equally. Choosing one man…”

I bit my lip and sank deeper into pillows. The sheets rustled, and I turned my head to look at the monitor where images of our babies covered the screen. Why did life have to give me a problem like this? “Choosing between you is just another way to break my heart.”

“What if…” Charlie tipped his head to the side, causing his hair to flop over his forehead. He scanned the room, his gaze finally coming to rest on the monitor. His face softened, showing off the boyish expression I’d first fallen in love with. “What if we dated as a foursome?”

“What?” Duncan’s head whipped around so fast his neck popped. He ignored what had to be a painful knot in his muscles and concentrated all his attention on Charlie. “What does that mean?”

“He means we stop competing to get Miranda to choose one of us and we all love her as she’s meant to be loved.” Patrick’s smile held hints of pride in the curves. “Good idea, Charlie.”

“I’m still confused.” Duncan held up his hands in a gesture meant to tell them to give him a minute.

Charlie brought the water cup over and held it out to me. I took another deep drink and set my hand on his shoulder, squeezing in thanks.

“A foursome.” Duncan picked up the conversation after several minutes of silence.

“Yeah. Like that first night.” Charlie set the cup on the adjustable bedside table and took my hand between his. “No competing for time with Miranda. Sometimes we’ll all be together, but we don’t get jealous if she wants one on one time.”

“Charlie, it’s a great thought, but is it really possible?” I asked. I wanted it to be real. I pinched my thigh to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

Duncan followed the movement, his lips quirking in a tiny smile when he realized my intentions. “None of us want to give you up.” The other two agreed with severe nods.

“We’re teammates. We grew up together.” Charlie warmed to the conversation, his body slouching as he stretched out his legs beneath my bed. “We’re as close to family as it gets without an actual blood relationship. I’m willing to share if it means being with Miranda.” The passion in his voice stirred my heart into a frenzy. My stomach swooped with joy, eliminating the nausea and bringing hope into the bleakness I’d anticipated this conversation would bring.

“Who’s ready to go home?” A slim woman entered the room, a stethoscope around her neck and a smile flashing perfect white teeth.

“Me.” I raised my hand and waved it back and forth.

“Great.” The doctor read over my chart one last time, gave me a quick once over, and proclaimed me fit. “You can take Tylenol for the headache if needed.”

I rolled my head side to side, grateful to realize the headache had disappeared sometime during the conversation. Maybe releasing the stress of having to choose chased it away. “Thank you.”

“Oh, one more thing.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out a sheet of ultrasound photos. “Thought you’d want these.”

Duncan took them before I had a chance. The gruff, tough, macho man turned into a puddle of goo when he traced the outlines with his thumb. “They’re perfect.”

“Well said, Dad.” The doctor thumped him on the back. “Here are her discharge papers.” She faced me. “No restrictions on physical activity unless it’s strenuous. As in, say hockey.” A smirk graced her face, and she raised her brows at my guys. “If the headache worsens, your vision changes, etc, come back to the ER.”

“Sure.” I had no intention of experiencing a relapse. Minor concussion or no, I wasn’t getting pinned down any longer than necessary.

She left and the four of us stared at each other.

“So.” Duncan, always impatient and in need of answers, broke the silence. “Are we agreed?”

“Yes. If it’s what Miranda wants.” Charlie never released my hand, and I gripped his fingers tight.

“If you all think it can work, yes, it’s what I want.” I had to hold them to the promise that there would be no jealousy.

“It will work. We love you enough to make it work.” Patrick flung the blankets back and helped me slide to the edge of the bed.

Charlie stepped out into the hallway, coming back with a wheelchair. “Doctor’s orders.”

I scowled but complied. They loved me. It blew my mind and made me giddy with relief. I didn’t have to choose. Their love and support overwhelmed me. How could this be real life?

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