Jameson rolls over in my bed in the middle of the night, rousing me. “Hey. Wake up.”

“Hmmm?” I ask, drowsy. My eyes are closed, though I’m not fully asleep yet. He only let me go to sleep half an hour ago, but obviously I’m the only one who did a lot of resting. “What?”

“I have to tell you something, and I need you to be totally awake when I do.” His voice is low and urgent.

I crack my eyelids, looking at him. He looks messy and yummy, if only I wasn’t quite so exhausted. Actually, now that I think about it, he looks tired too. “Are you okay?”

He smiles, but he seems nervous. “Yeah. I just… I love you.”

His words steal my breath away. I stare at him for a second, trying to decide if my sleep addled brain made up this little bit of fantasy or not. J looks uncomfortable for a second.

“Are you going to say anything?” he asks.

“I— Are you sure?” I ask. I desperately want to tell him that I love him, but only if he’s one hundred percent certain.

He frowns. “Am I sure? What kind of question is that? Of course I’m sure.”

My eyes immediately well up, and my voice grows thick. “You’re really, totally sure?”

J wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close. “Absolutely, completely, totally sure. I love you, Emma. I think I have loved you for longer than I care to admit, even to myself.”

“Oh my god,” I whisper, my eyes overflowing. “I love you too. I’ve loved you since I was old enough to know what love was, I think.”

I press my lips to his, aware of the tears flowing down my face. His taste is so familiar to me by now, and I find that more comforting than anything.

He rolls me over so that I’m on top of him, and I straddle him. Even as I cry happy tears, I pull his cock inside me, riding him as intensely as I know how.

He kisses away my tears as best he can and thrusts up inside me, using his hand to rub my clit. We come together, crying out, emboldened by the words we’ve just learned to say to one another.

As Jameson and I lie together, our breathing still ragged, I test out the new phrase.

“I love you,” I whisper into his jaw.

He looks at me. “And I love you.”

I slowly drift off to sleep with a smile on my face.

It’s just dinner with Gunnar, I tell myself nervously. As Jameson leads me into the casual dining restaurant, I straighten my skirt and try to remind myself to play it cool.

I look around at the brightly painted walls and the many leather booths. The hostess brightens when she sees Jameson and waves us on into the dining room. Apparently Jameson and his brothers know this Mexican place pretty well.

“Hey, you two,” Gunnar says, sprawled out in one of the back booths. His eyes drop to where Jameson holds my hand, widening for just a moment.

Jameson doesn’t skip a beat, moving to sit across from his brother. I scoot into the booth, my cheeks turning red.

“Hey Gunnar,” I greet him.

Gunnar looks between us. “You’re an item then, huh?”

Jameson stretches his arms out, putting one around me. He’s visibly tense. “Yep. Is that going to be a problem?”

“With me? Nope.” Gunnar grins. “Mazel Tov.”

Jameson relaxes a little. “Okay then.”

I pick up my menu. “Are their margaritas any good here? I think we could all use one.”

Jameson gives me an appreciative squeeze. “They’re excellent.”

The waiter comes over and Jameson orders a pitcher of margaritas on the rocks. We also all order food, and I opt for the chicken fajitas.

“That sounds good. Can I get those too, but with steak?” Jameson asks.

Gunnar goes for a ground beef burrito with mole sauce. When the waiter immediately returns with our margaritas, there is some shuffling and pouring. It’s funny how the two brothers divide and conquer the smallest task, with Gunnar setting up the glasses and Jameson meting out a little of the yellowish liquid into each glass.

“Thanks,” I say when Gunnar hands me my glass.

I sit back, taking a sip. I pucker a little, as the liquid is both sweet and sour. It’s also got a pretty strong tequila taste.

Gunnar sips his and sighs, audibly contented. He looks between us, as if trying to figure something out.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says with a shake of his head. He looks hesitant.

I glance at Jameson, who is studying Gunnar’s face.

“Spit it out. I can tell that you want to say something.” Jameson pushes his margarita around on the table top.

Gunnar pulls a face, leaning forward. He motions to the two of us. “How long have you guys been… you know, doing this?”

“Two months. Almost three by now, I guess.” Jameson says it with his voice full of contempt, like he’s expecting Gunnar to start a fight.

Under the table, I put my hand on Jameson’s knee. We exchange glances, and I try to silently tell him to take it easy.

“Does Asher know?” Gunnar asks. When we don’t answer right away, he sort of shakes his head. “Of course not. He would go ape shit if he did. Not that I’m saying that is reasonable, but…”

“You’re the first person we’re telling together,” I cut in, to stem the flow of angry words that I’m sure Jameson wants to unleash. “You’re like the starter home, and Asher is like the big lavish mansion. You know, baby steps.”

Gunnar nods, his brows knitting. He looks so much like Jameson just then, all brooding and grumpy.

“You two look alike,” I blurt out, changing the topic.

That draws two dark gazes my way.

“Well, we are brothers,” Jameson says, sipping his drink.

“Though I try to deny it,” adds Gunnar. “It’s hard when you are one of three clones, essentially.”

I seize on that topic. “Do you guys have any family photos? I want to know who you look like.”

Jameson scowls. “We look like our dad. Except for the eyes… dad had blue eyes. We got our eyes from our mom.”

“And yes, Jameson has pictures,” Gunnar adds. “He just doesn’t like to show them around.”

I look to Jameson. “You’d show them to me, wouldn’t you?”

“If that’s what you want.” Jameson looks extremely uncomfortable.

I bite my lip. “I want to know everything that there is to know about you. That means that I want to know about your past. Even the unpleasant parts.”

Jameson scoffs. “Alright.”

My eyes widen. “I mean it! I want to know it all.”

Just then the waiter brings our platters of fajitas and Gunnar’s burrito, each one sizzlingly hot and smelling like heaven. Eager for an interruption, Jameson pretends to be very interested in how the fajitas go together.

I make eye contact with Gunnar, who just shrugs and picks up a tortilla from the basket in the middle of the table.

“Where are you guys from? Like, I know that you’ve lived here for ages, but where are your parents from? And your parents parents?”

Jameson shoves a big tortilla with steak and peppers into his mouth, so that leaves Gunnar to pick up the slack.

“Uhhh… I think our dad was from Montana. Our mom, who knows.” Gunnar shrugs.

I take a tortilla, thinking. “Wait, so like… you have no idea if you even have other family? No one has done any research to see if you have any other grandparents or at least cousins floating around out there in the world?”

J and Gunnar shake their heads. I’m a little blown away.

“How is that possible? I mean, when your grandmother died, you didn’t even check to see if there was an aunt or an uncle out there?” I ask, growing a little frustrated.

“Nope,” Jameson says. He looks at his plate, avoiding eye contact with me.

“She’s right, you know,” Gunnar says, taking a sip of his drink. “I mean, not that we should have done anything differently. I know that you had a tough enough time as it was, Jameson. But we should do some poking around, see if there are cousins or something.”

Jameson seems unconvinced. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You could have a whole bunch of relatives and just not know it,” I say. “I’m imagining a whole room full of men that look exactly like you guys do.”

“Hmmmph,” is all Jameson will say on the subject.

I dig into my food, letting Gunnar and Jameson change the subject to what bars have opened recently in the area. I definitely won’t forget about this though…

I’m already making plans to find a historian who can search what little they know about their past. Maybe I’ll do it as a surprise, and then if I find anything worth knowing, I can present it to Jameson as a birthday present or something.

My relationship with Jameson and the fact that we haven’t confronted Asher yet is completely lost in the tumult of conversation for now.