A SET OF warm lips on his temple woke Julien the following morning, and as his eyes opened and a shard of sunlight found him where his head rested on a pillow, a steady thumping began in his head.

“Bonjour, sleepyhead.” Priest’s low voice sounded like it was playing through a megaphone as Julien brought a hand up to his forehead and squinted at the face hovering over his.

“Bonjour,” Julien managed as he sat up, and as he did, the room spun a little and he shut his eyes.

“Easy,” Priest said, as he sat down on the side of the mattress and reached out a steadying hand to Julien’s arm. “You had a rough night. Go slow.”

“Oui,” Julien mumbled, trying to remember it. But everything after arriving at the house was a blur.

Priest gestured to the nightstand and ran a hand down Julien’s arm. “There’s a couple of aspirin there. They’ll help with your head.”

Julien nodded and reached for them and the glass of water. As he swallowed them down, he looked around the guest room he and Priest had stayed in several times before, and when he didn’t spot Robbie, Julien started to panic.

“He’s organizing breakfast,” Priest said. “I couldn’t sleep and ran out early this morning to get us a few things.”

Ah, oui. That sounded like Priest. And just as Julien was about to say that, the pounding in his skull had him shutting his eyes instead. Dieu, how much had he had to drink last night?

“Joel?”

“Yes?” Priest said as he took Julien’s hand in his. “What is it? Are you okay?”

Julien put the glass down on the side table and rubbed at his temple. He hated having to ask this, but since he couldn’t remember, it was the only way. “Oui, I’m fine. I have a horrible headache but I’m assuming that’s self-inflicted and well deserved.”

When Priest didn’t say anything to disagree with that, Julien grimaced. God only knew what he’d said and done last night, but as he sat there and the fog began to lift from his brain, he remembered what had set him off. His parents had bailed on him, and then—then the Grey Goose.

Knowing how he was when he got like this, Julien rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and said, “Did I do anything stupid last night? I can’t remember, and I— Is Robbie okay? Did I ruin this for us?”

Priest shook his head and moved closer on the bed. “First off, you are never stupid.”

Julien arched an eyebrow. “You know what I mean, Joel. This house plus alcohol—it never usually ends well for me.”

“I know. But you’re never stupid, Julien. You were just a little less perfect than you usually are.”

Julien shook his head but realized too late that that was the wrong thing to do and winced. “I’m far from perfect, mon amour.”

“Perfect for me, and perfect for the man out there waiting to come and see how you are this morning.”

Mon Dieu. Julien wasn’t sure he could face Robbie right now. He couldn’t remember half of last night, and that was starting to freak him out.

“Would you stop worrying?” Priest said, and drew his fingers down Julien’s cheek.

“I would if I could remember what happened. The last thing I do remember is—” Julien stopped talking then, the bitter memory of his parents’ desertion not something he wanted to really think about.

“Julien…”

“I can’t believe they’re not here.”

“I know.”

“Fuck,” Julien said, his anger once again bubbling up.

“I assume you don’t know where they went?”

“Non. That would mean they would actually have to talk to me.” Julien rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t believe they did this. Why? Am I so—”

Priest put a finger to Julien’s lips. “Stop. Do not finish that sentence. And do not blame yourself for their shortsightedness. Do you hear me?” Julien shut his eyes, and when Priest removed his finger, he leaned in and said against Julien’s lips, “It takes strength to forgive. To walk away and forget is the easy way. The coward’s way.”

Julien wrapped his hands around Priest’s and shut his eyes, holding on to the man who’d always been there. Holding on to the man who’d rescued him when his own parents decided he wasn’t worth saving.

“But Robbie. What must he think?”

“He’s fine.”

“Merde,” Julien said, surprised that Robbie hadn’t called a cab and headed to the airport. “Tell me what happened last night.”

“You were upset,” Priest said. “But nothing you did or said was anything he didn’t need to hear. He knew something troubled you. That you have ghosts that you deal with.”

“Joel,” Julien said, and stared into eyes full of compassion. As always, he tried to understand what it was that Joel Priestley saw in him. “Je suis désolé.”

“You need to stop saying you’re sorry. If anything came of last night, it’s that now he understands.”

Julien slowly pulled his hands free and looked away from Priest, unable to accept the forgiveness he saw there, especially when he knew he didn’t deserve it.

“Julien—”

“Non.” Julien didn’t want to hear the excuses Priest would make for him. He’d heard them a million times before. “Don’t try and tell me I shouldn’t feel like this, that it’s not my fault. I need to feel this.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you that,” Priest said. “I was going to tell you that as long as I’ve known you, you have never taken the easy way out. You come up here, to the place where the worst night of your life happened, and you punish yourself for something that was no more your fault than it was hers, and Julien?” Priest took his chin and made Julien face him. “It’s time that you forgave yourself.”

As Priest’s words lingered between them, Julien realized his face was becoming a blur. “I don’t know how.”

“I might.” Robbie’s voice from the bedroom door had both Julien and Priest looking over. “Can I come in?”

“Of course, princesse,” Julien said, as Priest released him and Robbie walked over. Julien wiped away a tear that had just rolled down his cheek, and when his eyes cleared, he was stunned to see a bone-deep understanding in Robbie’s blue depths.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Robbie said, his voice soft and slightly hesitant. But when Priest took his hand and nodded, urging him to continue, he went on, “It’s about Jacquelyn.”

Julien was stunned to his core by the nonjudgmental tone in Robbie’s voice—in his entire demeanor, really—and found himself at a loss for words. How could Robbie still be there with them after everything he now knew? How could he not be disgusted with Julien? Not hate him for what he’d allowed to happen to his own sister?

But non, all he saw in Robbie’s eyes was acceptance, and a light shining through after the darkest of nights, showing Julien the way through to the other side of his despair.

Robbie held his other hand out, and when Julien took it, Robbie entwined their fingers, and just like that, all three of them were connected.

“How do you think she’d want to be remembered?” Robbie asked, and Julien was speechless. He had no idea what to say. No one had ever asked him that, and as he stared blankly at Robbie, he gave Julien a small, hesitant smile.

“It’s just…” Robbie paused as though choosing his words carefully. “This destroys you. Walking back into this house. It’s as if you see her—”

“Die over and over again,” Julien whispered.

When Robbie nodded, Julien shut his eyes and allowed last night to find him. The moment when he’d finally told Robbie what had happened. It all flooded back, painful and real, and as Julien let it back in, he remembered Robbie’s arm around his shoulder. Robbie pulling him into his side. Him laying his head on Robbie’s lap. And Robbie’s fingers in his hair.

Listening. Soothing. Healing him as he lay there—completely and utterly destroyed. Robbie was right, and so was Priest—this cycle needed to end.

“Happy,” Julien finally said, and when his voice cracked, he cleared it and tried again. “She’d want to be remembered as being happy. That’s what she was, all the time. Smiling. Laughing. Heureuse.”

Robbie grinned, and it was so bright, so contagious, that Julien felt himself smile right back.

“What made her the happiest?” Robbie asked, and when Julien shook his head, Robbie nodded. “Please, tell me. If she was here and could spend the day with you, what do you think she would want to do? What would make her smile?”

“Cooking,” Julien said, the word rolling off his tongue automatically. “And reading, of course. She was halfway through a reread.”

“Of Little Women?” Robbie scrunched his nose up as he looked at Priest, and then turned back to Julien. “Umm. Maybe not that. Can you imagine Priest reciting Little Women?” When Julien laughed, Robbie’s eyes filled with mischief and he let go of Julien’s hand to tap a finger to his chin. “Actually…”

“Watch it,” Priest said, and tugged on Robbie’s hand until he tumbled down onto Priest’s lap.

“Non. Non,” Julien said, shaking his head. “No reciting of Little Women.”

“Oh, fine. But that could’ve been fun.” Robbie gave an exaggerated pout, and then leaned toward Julien and cradled his face between his hands, his expression now a mask of seriousness. “You said this weekend is one you dread. That remembering her is too painful, too sad. But what if it’s not? What if it could be something beautiful?”

As Julien looked at Robbie’s earnest face, his eyes blurred all over again.

“You loved your sister,” Robbie said. “You should celebrate that. Celebrate her. Remember what made her happy and the sound of her laugh. And let yourself see her when you look in the mirror, because Julien? She’s there. And she’s beautiful.”

As Robbie settled back in Priest’s arms, Julien couldn’t help but think how lucky he was that these two men were his.

Priest: so steady, so patient and controlled, protecting him at all turns. And Robbie: the light at the end of a very long tunnel, offering a perspective neither Julien nor Priest had seen because they didn’t possess the illumination that radiated from Robbie.

“If you ask me, your parents did you a favor this weekend,” Robbie said, recapturing Julien’s attention. “Because now you get to remember her your way. You get to cook for her.”

Julien fought back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him and nodded. “She’d like that.”

“Of course she would. She’s a smart girl.” Robbie hopped up to his feet, placed his lips to Julien’s temple, and whispered, “Merci beaucoup.”

Julien turned his face until the two of them were so close that their noses touched. “What for? Dragging you into my mess? I can’t even begin to imagine what you must think of—”

Robbie touched a finger to Julien’s lips, silencing him, just as Priest had done, then placed a gentle kiss there. “For trusting me. With her and with you.”

Julien wanted to tell Robbie that he was welcome, that there was no need to thank him—really, it should be the other way around. But before he could get the words out, Robbie turned to Priest and said, “Your coffee and bagel is ready. And Jules? Sorry, you’re gonna have to skip the green stuff today and swallow some carbs and caffeine.”

Julien couldn’t believe it, but as he sat there, his lips curved and a laugh slipped free, and he wondered if Robbie knew what kind of magic he possessed, because in a matter of minutes, he and Priest had picked up Julien’s broken pieces and put him back together, enough that he knew he would survive another day.

“Now,” Robbie said, “go shower and change. We have some grocery shopping to do.”

THE BACK DOOR being opened, and Robbie’s laugh echoing up the halls over the soft strands of the music Priest had on, alerted him that Julien and Robbie had returned from their trip out.

He’d opted to hang back and finish up some last-minute work he needed to get done. There’d been no word on the Jimmy situation, which he was going to take as no news equaling good news, and he didn’t have time to deal with it anyway, even if there had been. He’d done as Henri had instructed and changed his phone out last week, only giving his number to those who needed it. As far as he was concerned, that issue was now on the back burner, which was still giving it more importance than he felt it deserved.

He shoved that thought from his mind, just as Robbie came around the corner with an armful of groceries, Julien following behind. Priest got up from his chair at the kitchen table and came around the island to help them out.

As he took a couple of the reusable bags, he looked inside and then over to Robbie, who’d just walked around to the main counter. “You two were gone a while. What did you do, buy the entire grocery store?”

“No,” Robbie said as he hefted his remaining bags up onto the counter. Julien did the same, and then brushed off his hands. “We were trying to decide what to make for Jacquelyn and your royal highness.”

Priest walked over to where Julien was now unpacking one of the bags. “I believe you are the one in this trio with the title, princess,” he said, but then took Julien’s chin in hand, turned his face to meet his, and looked him dead in the eye. “Comment vas-tu?”

Julien looked better than he had in days. His eyes had lost most of the sadness that had been plaguing him, and when he smiled back at Priest, it actually reached his eyes.

“Je vais bien, mon amour.” Priest eyed him until Julien chuckled and put a hand on his chest. “Je promets.”

“Ooh, I understood that,” Robbie said, a grin curving his shiny lips, and when both of them turned in his direction, he pouted and added, “I think.”

Happy to be diverted, Julien said, “Oui?”

Robbie nodded. “Mhmm. You answered Priest, ‘I’m good, my love. I promise.’ Which can only mean he asked how you were.”

Robbie’s quick study shouldn’t have surprised Priest, but it did, and when Julien nodded, Robbie gave a little whoop and repeated to Priest, “Comment vas-tu?”

Priest chuckled. “C’est bon de savoir que mes hommes sont à la maison, sains et saufs.”

Robbie frowned at him and said, “What did that mean?”

Julien kissed Priest on the cheek, then looked at Robbie and said, “He’s good now that his men are home safe and sound.”

“Aww,” Robbie said, as Julien wrapped an arm around Priest’s waist and burrowed into his side. “You’re kind of a softie, you know that?”

“Am I?” Priest said, his lips twitching as Robbie resumed his unpacking.

“Yep. You act all tough, but deep down you’re all soft and— Oh! I totally forgot we got these.” Robbie’s excitement and Julien’s laughter instantly worried Priest, and when Robbie rustled around at the bottom of one of his bags and pulled out some colored fabric, Priest frowned.

“And what exactly are those?”

Robbie looked at him as though he were a total moron, and then held the hot-pink number up against his chest. “Aprons. Hello, we can’t spend the day in the kitchen without aprons.”

Priest walked over to Robbie to see a black crown on the neck of the apron he was holding up, and under it in fancy script it read, Queen of the Kitchen.

Priest raised his eyes to the rascal. “Do they all say that?”

“No way. This one’s mine. Yours is…” Robbie moved around him to look in his bag, and then pursed his lips. “I don’t see the other two. Jules, are they in yours?”

Julien looked in the bag he’d yet to unpack and nodded, reaching inside. “Oui, I have them.”

Priest would never admit it, but when a black and white apron emerged, he was a little disappointed. He’d thought Robbie would’ve been more comfortable joking and playing with him now, but—

Julien held up the black apron and turned it around to face Priest, and as the words came into view, he squashed his disappointment like a bug.

“That one’s yours,” Robbie said from beside him. Across the top of the apron in white script was: While I have this apron on. And directly under it: I AM THE BOSS. That was followed by one of Priest’s favorite things to ask: Do you understand?

“Appropriate, wouldn’t you say?” Robbie teased.

He would indeed, Priest thought, as he took it from Julien, who was smirking.

As Priest put it on and tied it at his back, Robbie did the same with his, and then he took either side of it and executed a flirty twirl, laughing. “Ah ha ha. I love it.”

Robbie’s enthusiasm was infectious, and had Priest grinning as he looked at Julien and said, “And where is yours, Mr. Thornton?”

Julien picked up the other apron, and when he slipped it on over his head, Priest read what was printed across his chest and laughed.

“Suits him, don’t you think?” Robbie said as they both looked at Julien, and Priest nodded.

Julien’s apron read, How do you think you can help me? GET THE HELL OUT OF MY KITCHEN!

“I’m not that bad,” Julien said, and proving just how far he’d come since yesterday, he joked, “Anymore.”

“Mhmm. Whatever, Mr. Prick. We’ll see,” Robbie said, and winked at Julien before he looked at all the ingredients on the counter and clapped his hands together. “Right, where to start.”

As the talking stopped for the first time since they’d arrived home, Robbie screwed his nose up and looked at Priest. “What is this music?”

“It’s Miles Davis,” Priest said. “I find it relaxes me while I work.”

“Relaxes you? I’m surprised you’re not catatonic.”

Priest shook his head. “I’ll have you know, he was an extremely talented composer and trumpeter. Perhaps you should expand your horizons.”

Robbie placed a hand on his hip and said, “Perhaps I will the next time it’s cold and rainy and I have a bottle of brandy handy. But since I’m not currently in Chicago, and we’re all here and to have a day of celebration, can we at least put on something a little more…mmm I don’t know, upbeat?”

“Such as?” Priest said, and when Robbie rolled his eyes, Julien came over to Priest and laid a hand on his arm.

“Give me your phone, mon amour. I’ll make us a playlist that will suit all of us.”

Priest walked to the table, shut his laptop, and when he came back, he held his phone out to Julien. When he reached for it, Priest kept a hold of it, pulled him in close, and said, “Embrasse-moi,” and Julien did.

“Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime aussi.”

As they pulled apart, Priest looked over Julien’s shoulder to see Robbie watching the two of them with an expression in his eyes that matched their words, and he suspected Robbie knew exactly what it was they’d just said to one another—but this time, he chose to remain silent.

Then, as though he sensed Priest’s gaze upon him, Robbie put his hand to his heart before picking up several items off the counter and turning away.

The three of them then began to move around the kitchen after that, and Priest realized that love was in that room as they worked side by side. With every touch, every look, and every smile they shared, as they helped Julien celebrate a woman he loved with all his heart, the bond the three of them were carefully forging became that much stronger.

AROUND THIRTY MINUTES later, Robbie lifted the lid off the top of the pot on the stove and stirred the contents simmering inside.

Mm, smells delicious, he thought, as he scooped up a little bit of his nonna’s sauce and brought it to his lips to taste his handiwork. Hot damn, Nonna would be proud. It tasted as good as it smelled.

When he’d been at the store earlier with Julien and they’d been talking about what he’d like to cook, Julien asked Robbie if he would share a meal that his family had loved cooking together, something that made Robbie think of home. While this was probably one of the most common meals found in an Italian household—and likely nothing impressive to a world-renowned chef—Robbie had decided on his nonna’s spaghetti.

He remembered spending weekends with his sisters and cousins in their nonna’s kitchen mixing and kneading the pasta dough, and then arguing over who got to use the machine to roll it out into thin strips.

Today, however, Robbie had left the pasta making to the professional, and watching Julien move around the kitchen was something else. He was totally in his element. It was as if all of his worries left him the second he put his apron on and switched on that part of his brain. It was wonderful to see.

He’d poured flour onto a large cutting board, dug out a well, and cracked the eggs into the center of it with the ease of someone who did it every day. Then he’d added some olive oil and salt and mixed it altogether. After that, he’d pummeled the hell out of it.

Robbie remembered Julien saying that crushing things helped clear his head, and Robbie figured strangling dough would be a good replacement for his parents if he wanted to keep Julien out of jail.

Robbie placed the wooden spoon on the ceramic holder by the stove and turned to see Priest at the sink finishing off rinsing the cutting boards, pans, and cooking utensils as he stacked them into the dishwasher.

Julien was now sitting at the island with a glass of wine, waiting for the go-ahead from Robbie to start cooking the pasta, and just as Robbie was about to tell him he could start, the music switched songs and Priest’s man, Sinatra, floated around the room.

“Hey, it’s your guy,” Robbie said as “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” began to play.

“So it is,” Priest said, as he tossed the dishtowel on the bench, and walked over to Robbie. “Would you like to dance?”

“To this?” Robbie said, and Priest nodded. “Uh, I don’t know how.”

“Really?”

Robbie chuckled. “Yes, really.”

Priest’s lips crooked up at the side, and then he walked over to Julien, took a sip of his wine, and, gallant as ever, held his hand out to his husband. “Julien?”

Julien took Priest’s hand and slipped off his stool as though they’d done this a hundred times before, and as Robbie watched in wonder, Julien smiled and said, “I’d love to.”

Priest pulled Julien into his arms, and Robbie felt his breath catch as the two of them then began a gentle waltz in the kitchen.

It was beautiful, and such a tender, intimate moment, as they made their way over to Robbie, and then Priest looked at him and said, “Would you like us to teach you?”

Robbie’s heart thumped at the thought, and suddenly he understood the appeal of the music, the magic of the mood it created, and found that he wanted nothing more than to be danced around the kitchen with one—or two—of these men.

He nodded, and as Priest released Julien, Priest held a hand out to Robbie. He slid his palm along the top of Priest’s, and when Priest wound his other arm around Robbie’s waist and drew him in close, Robbie reminded himself to breathe.

You were closer to him last night, Robbie told himself, feeling slightly foolish for how off balance this was making him feel. But somehow, here in the kitchen with the homey smells, laughter, and memories being created, this moment felt just as intimate.

“We’ll start easy,” Priest said, as he began swaying with Robbie from side to side. “Get familiar with us holding you.”

Oh, Jesus, is he serious? This charming side of Priest was a killer.

Robbie glanced over his shoulder at Julien as if he was going to somehow help keep him on his feet. But he was no help, because Priest turned Robbie slightly, and then released his hold around his waist and spun him toward the handsome chef.

Robbie took hold of Julien, who brought him in close and continued the gentle rocking from side to side, one hand around Robbie’s waist. The slow, sensual smile Robbie loved curved Julien’s lips, making his dimple appear, and it was so relaxed and so far removed from the pained man he’d seen last night that Robbie couldn’t help but reach out and trace his fingers over it.

Julien turned his head and kissed Robbie’s fingertips. “Back to Priest for you.”

He spun Robbie out, and this time when Priest caught him, he pulled Robbie flush up against him and moved his left leg forward, making Robbie step back.

“Very good. Now to the side. Simple box step,” Priest said in a low voice that sent a shiver up Robbie’s spine, and Robbie concentrated on his moves and matched them. Only once did he mess up and step on Priest’s toes, making him chuckle, and Robbie grimaced.

“I don’t think I’m very good at this.”

“You’re doing great,” Priest said, and then kissed Robbie’s temple. “And this song fits you like a dream.”

Robbie listened to the lyrics, loving each and every word, hoping he was deep in the heart of both these men, and then he tipped his face up to Priest, who kissed his nose and said, “It’s Julien’s turn.”

He handed Robbie off, and as Julien took hold of him, Robbie stumbled over his own feet and giggled. “Sorry. Geez. I’m kind of ridiculous.”

“Non,” Julien said, and as the song drew to an end, he brought their joined hands up to cover his heart and placed his cheek by Robbie’s. “You’re absolutely perfect, and so is today,” he whispered. “Merci beaucoup, mon cher petit.”

Robbie found it difficult to respond with all that he was feeling, and instead rested his chin on Julien’s shoulder. When his eyes found Priest, who was now leaning back against the counter, he too mouthed thank you, and Robbie nodded and smiled, finding his heart was as full as it had ever been, right there in that kitchen with two men who had most certainly gotten under his skin.