The words squeeze my heart, filling it with happiness.
We belong.
“So, we work at this, and love, as we go?” I ask, snaking one arm around Tristan’s waist and another around Matt’s. Nestled between them, my heart settles inside the cocoon we’re creating, believing this is right. “My head has doubts, but my heart knows this is where I belong. Let’s go to dinner, Mattie, as a family. Your family.”
Thirty minutes later, I find myself at the Deckers’ home.
The first place we go to is the music studio. I’ve never been in one, and I’m amazed by the amount of instruments and speakers they have. Chris Decker’s office is decorated with most of his awards, and a few pictures of Dreadful Souls.
The guys back in their glory days. My father with long, curly blond hair, shirtless, and sticking his tongue out. His brown bloodshot eyes look lost. He’s high. I don’t look at all like him, but unfortunately, I got his addictive genes.
“That’s my old band,” Chris says, then points at himself with much longer hair than mine. “The thrill of being with ‘the band’ was the ultimate drug at the beginning. Then we discovered the real shit. Partied too much, fucked too many women, and at the end, we couldn’t stand each other. Have you heard the music?”
I scrunch my nose and work extra time to hold my tongue.
“Nose scrunch,” Matt points out. “That means no, or that she hates it.”
Tristan squeezes my hand and comes closer to me, while Matt tosses his hands up in the air.
“You’re too picky, woman.”
I roll my eyes and try to ignore him, while Chris gives me that lazy grin and says, “I take it you’re not a fan.”
“Afraid not. I only listen to new age or classical. Bach, Mozart, Verdi, Strauss, Tchaikovsky, among others.” Then I turn to Tristan. “Are you a fan?”
He shrugs, smiling at Chris. “You weren’t bad.”
“Jesus, I need to teach them about good music. Thea, really? Classical… and you’re dating a drummer?” Chris gives me that devilish smirk that looks so much like the one Matt has, and I can’t help but smile with him while bobbing my head. “That’s true love. My husband hates heavy metal and still fell in love with me, didn’t you, babe?”
“I still ask myself what possessed me, then I remember how amazing he is and forget his old hideous music.” Gabe winks at his husband and then kisses him. “He gave me three amazing children too. You can’t beat that, and whatever else he does disappears when I remember what we built.”
Watching them, the vibe of unconditional love—and the true love between them—fills my heart with joy.
It’s beautiful.
They have their own unicorn.
This is what I want.
Compassion, friendship, harmony, fidelity, strength, and of course, love.
One day I want this. Being old, sharing dinner with my men and our children. Their significant others.
Matt kisses the nape of my neck the moment I take his and Tristan’s hands in mine. Uniting us.
“No worries, Butterfly,” Matt murmurs. I tilt my head, and find his contagious grin, which draws a smile of my own. “I’ll teach you to love a drummer. We musicians are fucking awesome.” Then he kisses Tristan on the cheek.
“I love you, babe,” Tristan says, kissing Matt back, “but keep the drums in the soundproof room. I like it better when you play the piano. That I can listen to for eternity.”
I sigh.
These two are adorable, and I agree, Matt plays the piano with his soul.
Each note caresses my heart—his melodies wash away heartaches—and it’s like medicine that heals from within.
From there, the tour continues to the grand kitchen with multiple ovens and a huge stove with eight burners. The industrial refrigerator makes me wonder what they possibly cook for only the two of them.
“It all came with the house.” Christian opens the fridge. “We planned to remodel, but it comes in handy. With all our extended family, it’ll be perfect for Christmas.”
“It’s big,” Matt warns me. “They’re going to love the two of you.”
Looking at Tristan, he says, “There’s something I have to show you both. Come with me.”
We head out toward the backyard and walk down the path that leads us to the house next door, but instead of stopping, we continue. After the third house, there’s a huge lot.
“This is mine,” he says, looking first at the lot and then toward the lake. “I bought these two lots after Jacob bought the house next to Ainsley’s. Maybe one day we can build another dream…”
“You do buy shit on impulse,” Tristan laughs, then pulls Matt to him, kissing him hard while shaking with laughter, “but I love you that way. Someday, I promise we’ll build it—our home. Once the three of us are ready, babe.”
Someday. I look around, wondering when that day will come and how long we’ll have to wait before we reach that stage.
Chapter Eight
Tristan
We spend time with Matt’s family.
They welcome Thea and me as part of the family without hesitation. I’m still having trouble adjusting. There are too many changes, and I haven’t been able to talk them through.
Tomorrow, I repeat to myself every time I’m about to excuse myself and retreat. I’ll be with my counselor tomorrow. He’ll help me untangle the knot tucked inside my heart. For now, I’m spending as much time as possible with Thea and Matt.
Revising contracts wasn’t my plan for the night. My choices about what to do shortened when Thea and Matt agreed to work in the living room.
Who knew the man works all night long? Thea.
She knows more about him than I do.
We want to spend as much time as we can together since she’s moving out tomorrow. Mason Bradley is lending her an apartment. The place is only a couple of miles from here.
Mr. Bradley senior is only charging her a small portion of rent since it’s for family. Matt and I aren’t thrilled about the idea of her not living with us.
It’s her choice though. Fine, I agree that she has a good reason. Before she can live with us, she needs to find herself.
In theory, I don’t have a reason to come to Seattle for the next couple of months. Jacob is here to oversee the construction of Thrice, and we can’t demolish Silver Moon until the insurance releases the building.
But since I want this relationship to work, I will stay longer. Thea and Matt are more important than anything else. I want to make this work. I almost laugh as I glance at the contracts I’m pretending to read.
My attention has been everywhere but where it should be. Observing them, Matt and Thea. Studying each detail about them.
Matt reads, sticking out the tip of his tongue to the left side while he’s at it.
Thea squints each time she uses her pliers. Creating amazing things and looking beautiful.
Thea’s hair is tied into a braid that falls to the side, letting me see the few butterflies tatted on her back. Her ankle bracelet has a butterfly charm.
Matt calls her Butterfly. I do too, but I want to know why.
“What’s with the butterflies?”