Page 92 of Light My Fire Three Times
I look between them, their flowers, their gifts, their ridiculous confidence, and my brain is screaming, 'This is insane.’
There are so many reasons we shouldn’t do this.
But my heart? My heart is already saying yes.
I swallow hard, trying for sarcasm but probably just sounding breathless. “Fine. But if there are heels in that bag, you’re carrying me.”
Karl winks. “Baby, you wear what’s in that bag, you’ll knock us dead no matter what’s on your feet.”
And damn it, I believe him.
Especially later, when I actually put the dress on.
Damn.
It’s deep green silk, hugging in all the right places, catching the light when I turn. My hair’s behaving for once, my lips are a shade darker than usual, and I look like… someone else. Someone who can step into a story and not apologize for being at its center.
When I step outside, Karl’s truck is waiting. He whistles low when he sees me, and Jesse mutters something similar to “holy hell,” while Leo… smiles like he’s been waiting his whole life to look at me like this.
“Okay,” I say, trying for casual. “Where are we going?”
“Out of town,” Karl says, turning the ignition.
He’s grinning like he knows a secret.
My stomach flips. Out of town. Which means no Ivy. No watchful eyes. Just… us.
The drive feels longer than it probably is, filled with Karl’s music, Jesse’s snarky comments, and Leo’s steady calm at my side. When we finally pull up, I gasp.
The restaurant might as well be a Christmas movie. Twinkling lights strung across frosted windows, wreaths hanging on the doors, a golden glow spilling out every time someone enters or exits.
It’s elegant but cozy, the kind of place people book for anniversaries and engagements, not… whatever this is.
Inside, it’s warm and fragrant with the scent of rosemary and butter, accompanied by a jazz trio playing softly in the corner.
The hostess doesn’t even blink at me walking in flanked by three men; she smiles and leads us to a corner booth tucked away from the main room. Private. Intimate. Perfect.
Karl slides in first, Jesse next to him, leaving me in the middle with Leo at my other side. It’s dizzying to be so surrounded. I’m caught in a current I don’t want to escape.
Menus are handed out, but nobody’s really looking. Karl keeps cracking jokes about the wine list, “Any bottle under three digits is basically grape juice”, Jesse teases the waiter as we order like he’s known him forever. Leo leans in close to explain the specials in that low voice of his, like I can’t read the menu myself.
I’m laughing too much and smiling too hard. My cheeks ache in the best way.
The food comes. Pasta tangled with fresh herbs, bread that melts on my tongue, wine that’s smooth enough to make me wonder if Karl was right about the price tag. But it isn’t the food that makes the night feel magical. It’s them.
The way Jesse brushes his hand against mine when he passes the breadbasket.
The way Karl leans in to whisper some ridiculous story makes me choke on my wine.
The way Leo looks at me when I laugh, smiling to himself.
For the first time in weeks, maybe months, I feel… light. The shadows of everything, the fire, the work stress, the constant weight of pretending I’m fine, can’t reach me here.
And as the night winds down, I catch sight of our reflections in the window: me, caught between three men who shouldn’t make sense together, but somehow do.
It’s insane. Reckless. Impossible.
But when Karl toasts “to the start of something unforgettable,” and Jesse winks like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and Leo’s hand rests steady on mine under the table…
