Page 86 of The All-Inclusive

Wrong.

The word triggers something inside me. In the black and white world I was raised in, so many things can bewrong.

Badis another one. Last night in bed, Logan asked Sara if she’d been a bad girl. She giggled and shrieked as he playfully smacked her bare backside.

But the word put a knot in my chest that hasn’t unraveled.

“Trent?”

The sound of my name in Sara’s sweet voice reminds me she’s wanting an answer. I’m not sure I have one to give her.

“It’s fine,” I mutter.

Her forehead crinkles. “It doesn’t sound like it’s fine.”

I wish she’d just drop it. Logan doesn’t help by cheerfully asking, “You okay, dude?”

They’re going to keep pushing until I say something. Might as well get this over with. “I wish you hadn’t said anything, that’s all.”

“Why?” She sounds truly befuddled, and Logan looks equally perplexed.

I guess I’m the asshole here.

“Look, I just—I don’t want people knowing, okay?” From the look on their faces, itisn’tokay. “Camille will tell Kit, and probably Holyfield, too.” Shame swirls with anger, a sticky-hot soup in my gut. “What did you tell her exactly?”

Logan’s hand rests on her hip. He’s looking at me like I’ve just tracked swamp mud on freshly cleaned floors. “Hey, man,” he says gently. “Go easy on her.”

I roll out of bed, feeling too naked for this talk. I drag on the shorts that I dropped at the edge of the nightstand, not sure where my underpants went. I feel itchy and exposed, like my skin doesn’t fit anymore.

Now Logan sits up, since Sara’s still upright with her forearm covering her breasts. Guess he’d rather not lie there while Sara and I brace to do battle. Her perfect, round breasts peek under the edge of her forearm. She’s so fucking beautiful, and Logan’s infuriatingly flawless, too.

I can’t look at either of them. Not without feeling my heart start to simmer in a stew of its own putrid juices. Snatching her dress off the edge of the mattress, I hand it to Sara and wait while she wriggles it over her head. Her bra landed somewhere on the other side of the room, but she doesn’t bother finding it.

Frowning, Logan helps her locate the arm holes and settle the dress on her body. “How about we all just take a break and?—”

“No,” she says. “I want to talk about this.” She sounds more pissed off than hurt, and I’m not sure that’s better. “I told her everything, Trent, okay?”

Dragging a hand through my hair, I fight back the urge to say itisn’tokay. It’s so fucking far from okay that I can’t see okay from this spot where I’m pacing a hole in the floor.

But Sara keeps going. “Camille is a world-renowned sex therapist, Trent. I shared what’s been happening and asked for her professional insights. I don’t think you need to worry about her judgment or discretion.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Or maybe it is. So many fears careen through my brain as I stomp back and forth at the foot of the bed.

“It was actually really refreshing.” She sounds so much calmer than I feel, but there’s an edge to her voice. Sweet little Sara isn’t backing down this time. “You know what she told me?”

“What?” I’m almost afraid to hear it.

“She said millions of people have perfectly successful polyamorous marriages. That’s the word for romantic relationships where there’s more than two people—polyamory. Not only that, but polyamorous partners buy homes together, raise kids together, buildlivestogether.” She squints at my face through the harsh rays of sunlight that stream through her window. “Why are you making that face?”

“What face?”

“Like I just slammed your testicles in the sliding glass door.”

“Ouch.” Logan gets up and pulls on his boxer briefs. “For what it’s worth, I’ve known a lot of people in relationships like that. Hell, Kora and Sybil are one of the happiest married couples I know, and they’ve practically got a revolving door on their bedroom.”

I skid to a stop and look from Logan to Sara. A sick thought slams into my gut. “Have you two been talkingabout this? Aboutus?”

They look at each other, startled and stirred up with feelings. “Not exactly,” Sara says, turning to face me. “Not in so many words, but I think weshouldtalk about it.”

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