The rest of my work week goes by in an instant, like I sailed right through it, looking forward to this night. The three of us are at a round table, sitting around it like points on a triangle, in perfect view of each other. I can feel bubbles in my chest, and I’m not sure how to deal with it. This is all so damn new, so damn different than anything I’ve ever done before.

We get steaks. It’s my own personal touch on an apology to Dylan for how I’d acted the last time we were at this restaurant. He, of course, takes the time to give the waiter special instructions, and Cate teases him about kicking the chef out of his own kitchen. Dylan shrugs, his hands spread. He knows his stuff, though; Cate and I have to admit that it’s the best steak we’ve ever had in our lives. I trust Dylan, with food, and now I’m realizing, with everything else, too. I can only hope that they learn how to trust me; I haven’t given them much reason so far.

We don’t do much talking during dinner — we’re too busy eating. But then the waiter clears the plates and brings us after-dinner drinks, and I realize talking’s going to have to start.

“Hey, there we go,” I say as the waiter sets the glasses down in front of us. “Go on, drink up,” I say, smiling. “You might be the best chef, Dylan, but you’re gonna find out that I’m the best bartender. You’ll love it.”

“What did you call them?” Dylan asks, picking his glass up and looking at the bubbles as they fly to the surface of the mostly clear drink.

“French 75s, right?” Cate answers for me, then takes a drink. She closes her eyes, and it looks like she’s enjoying the bubbles all the way down. She gives me the girliest smile, all catlike satisfaction and indulgent glee. “It’s perfect.”

I watch Dylan as he takes another look at the drink, then over to the two of us, before raising the glass and taking a tentative sip. There’s a brief moment of evaluation as I watch his chef’s mind turn over the flavor profiles or some other shit. Who knows what someone with that kind of skill thinks about? Ultimately, though, he grins and takes a larger drink.

“This is delicious!” he exclaims, smiling at me. I feel the bubbles in my chest again, and I haven’t even touched my drink yet.

“Perfect,” I say, taking my own glass and having a sip. “So, not to kill the mood, but I think now’s as good a time as any to jump into the townhouse talk, eh?”

Cate and Dylan glance at each other, and then nod together. I try not to feel a pang of envy at how obviously on the same wavelength they are; I’m not some asshole intruding, I’m part of this.

“I brought some paperwork that we can all sign together, once we’re all on the same page about what we want to do,” I say. “In the meantime, I’ll fill you in on Sully’s wishes.”

“Is this something that Gary should be here for?” Cate asks. She looks a little uneasy. Such a sweetheart, worried about hurting the old guy’s feelings.

“Oh, we’re okay. I bumped into Gary a week or so back. He brought me up to speed on the basics, and he gave me his blessing to discuss it with you all here.”

“Ultimately, Gary will probably have to approve the paperwork, right?” Dylan asks.

I nod. Truth is, I’d only listened with half an ear as Gary had walked me through the legalese, but nothing had jumped out at me as requiring my additional research. I’d been a little distracted by, well, by everything that had been going down between Cate, Dylan, and I, but it had all sounded pretty standard other than him splitting ownership among the three of us, and some provision about the requirements to ultimately transfer the title.

Still, no worries. I know Gary would review it all with us in full once we were finally on the same page. Right now, that’s the hurdle we have to get over.

I look at the two of them, some of that warm feeling that’s been growing in me over the last couple of weeks surging up again. They both matter so damn much to me, but I have to keep a clear head. I appreciate what Sully has done, bringing us back together, wanting to give us each something that mattered, but this shit has to be dealt with now so we can all move ahead.

“Ready to start?” I ask, looking at the two of them. They both nod, and I continue. “Sully knew that the house means different things to each of us. For me, it was a place to get away from the streets. Without him, I’d probably be dead or in jail by now.”

“It was the place I learned to shape my identity,” Dylan says. “To truly be the person I want to be.”

“For me—” Cate pauses, takes a sip of her drink, then meets my eyes. “For me, it was an escape,” she says. “From New York, from the MacMillan name, and from my mother most of all.”

I nod. “But,” I continue. “Sully also knew that things change, and life goes on. I think he was well aware, and very proud, of the people we all turned out to be. He touched our lives on such a fundamental level, and shaped who we would become. I know I wouldn’t be a lawyer without his help, that’s for damn sure.”

Both of them nod, listening. Encouraged, I go on. “Sully told me that he wanted each of us to benefit from the townhouse in one way or another, to take whatever was meaningful from the house, and to sell off the rest. For the market value of that house right now, I think he knew that it would be life-changing money. Retirement money, in some ways, if that’s what we want out of it.”

“I think that assumes that Sully believed we all had our own lives,” Cate says. “I mean, he had to have thought I’d live in New York for the rest of my life, and look at me now.”

“Same,” Dylan says. “He left me enough to cover my old student loans, so I could afford to go to culinary school, and I think he figured that I’d move on with life after that, maybe travel the world. Maybe he underestimated how attached I am to that house, I don’t know.”

“With the house sale…” I say, trying to nudge them toward the promise of money. Money is simple, money is easy to handle. Not like memory, not like feelings. I reach for my own drink, begin again. “With the house sale, we can all do whatever we want. We can start our own businesses, move wherever we’d like, do whatever, wherever and whenever. We can all start fresh, on our own terms.” I try not to sound excited, but I’m more than a little exasperated at how difficult it’s been to get this point across, and hell, who doesn’t want a fresh start? “We can have it all.”

“Except the changes I made to the decor,” Cate chimes in. “All of that work I want to put into that house. Something to honor him while also modernizing the look, opening it up, making it even more cheerful than it already was for us.”

“And I’ve always loved that study,” Dylan says. “I get all of my best work done in there. And that kitchen, my God. I know my way around it like I know my own body. That’s my kitchen, it’s home, it’s where I thrive. It’s where I’m happy.”

“Living with Dylan has been a complete breath of fresh air for me,” Cate says. “It’s night and day compared to the life I had before.”

I feel a pang of jealousy strike me deep as I look between the two of them. They want to live together? Was I just some sort of unicorn to them? Someone they play around with, then dismiss when they want to thrive, whatever that means? Someone they can discard?

“Well, look,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, maybe there’s a simpler solution to this. Maybe we just wait and see who you end up with, Cate.” I look at Dylan. “If it’s you, Dylan, then the two of you can buy me out and live your happily ever after.” I realize that my voice is rising a little, but I can’t help but feel a little stung over this. It’s all the old bullshit again, all the feelings of worthlessness, of not being enough. “And if it’s me, then maybe we can buy you out.” It comes out sounding harsh and ugly, but I feel so raw right now.

“I don’t want to fight you on this, Jack,” Cate says. I look toward her, and I can see her eyes tearing up. “I just… I don’t know, Jack, maybe it’s just me, but things are just starting to work out for me here. My life is already becoming what I want it to be. I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you, not ever, not in a million years.”

The pleading look on her face hurts me inside, makes me feel ashamed for lashing out. I can see it in her eyes again, that part of myself that I saw in her the last time she cried in front of me. The self-loathing, the confusion, the determination. But there’s something different this time, something I didn’t see at all before. She cares about me. She truly, genuinely cares about me. It’s not just the sex for her; I’m not someone she’s using for whatever she can get out of me. This is a woman who accepts me for who I am, warts and all. I didn’t know such a person could exist, and sure as hell not for me.

I start to reply, I’m already leaning forward and opening my mouth to speak, to tell Cate I’m sorry, but Dylan gets there before I can.

“Jack, I don’t think it has to be this way, these black-and-white choices. There’s always another way.”

Having someone cut you off never feels good, but right now? Right when I’m about to put down my defenses and cop to being scared? Right now it feels like Dylan just rubbed me the wrong way with a handful of fucking rock salt. I don’t know if it’s my emotions already running high, or seeing the way Cate looks at me, but I feel myself go into my defensive mode before I can stop it.

“Alright, then, if you’ve got all the answers, tell me how this plays out.” Dylan pulls back, gives me a look, but I just keep on rolling. “Tell me your magical solution, huh? How about you keep the house and I get to keep Cate? That work for you?”

I don’t even say the other one. The one that… fuck. A part of me wouldn’t mind, but another part of me still shies away from.

Dylan could choose me. The two of us…

But fuck. No. I know I’d gone to him for… for sex. But a life… we’re talking about who gets to settle down with whom. Building a life together. Even if I wanted that with him, why would he choose me over Cate?

Why would either of them choose me?

I scowl harder, and Dylan raises his hands up, his voice turning all soothing and gentle-like, as though he’s trying to talk me down.

“Whoa there, cowboy,” he starts, giving me a smile that does shit inside me that I’m not ready to deal with. Especially not now. “This isn’t a competition.”

“You’re damn right it’s not,” Cate says. There’s fire in her voice, and that look of love and care is gone, replaced with daggers that cut right to the deep parts. Jack, that look says, you just fucked up but good.

“I don’t belong to anyone, Jack, don’t talk about me like I’m—” she flutters her hands, casting about for the words. “Like I’m freaking furniture! I’m a person, Jack! You don’t get to waltz in here and use me like I’m some sort of bargaining chip in your pissing contest!”

My embarrassment turns into anger. “So you choose Dylan then, eh? I knew it from jump street; he’s the nice guy, he’s the home fire. How the hell was I ever gonna compete with that?”

Cate stares at me. “What are you even talking about, Jack? You’re not making any sense!” Her voice comes out high and sharp.

She might as well have slapped me. Telling me I’m not making any sense when all I’ve done is try to be clear about things? Might as well tell me we’re speaking different languages because we come from two different worlds. I can feel the old chip on my shoulder again, the one I thought I’d left behind. I start to speak, and Dylan cuts in again.

“Alright, you two,” Dylan says. “This isn’t helping any of us. We didn’t come here for this, and no one is choosing anyone. Let’s finish our drinks, calm down a little, and maybe we can get back on track. All right?”

“No,” Cate says, shaking her head and sending her hair flying around her face. “No, fuck that. Jack wants to come in here and start making demands like he was Sully’s one and only? Like we didn’t lose him, too? God!” She turns to me, and the daggers plunge deep again. “What is it with you? Why do you always have to ruin a good thing? Why do you hurt every single thing that you touch?”

“Excuse me?” I say, my voice dropping low into a snarl. “I don’t recall you saying that when I was making you come like a freight train. My touch was real nice back then, wasn’t it?”

“That’s enough, Jack,” Dylan snaps.

“Fuck you, Dylan, you’re not my dad. Stay in your lane, buddy.”

“Why?” Cate demands. “Why is this so important to you, breaking all of us apart? Why the hell are you so desperate to sell? Do you need the money? Get yourself in a scrape like your old man used to, down at the racetrack?”

Nope. That’s my limit, that’s so far below the belt I can barely believe she went there. I’m not putting up with this shit anymore. I slug the last of my drink, then slam the glass down so hard it rocks and tips over. I don’t care if this is the second time we make a scene in this restaurant; this time, it’s on my terms.

Fuck them for making me feel like I’m nothing; I’m not nothing, I’m not that guy anymore.

“Do you have any clue,” I start, standing up from my seat. “Even the faintest idea, how much I make for a living? Take a guess!” I shout.

“Sit down, Jack,” Dylan growls at me, but I flip him off and keep going.

“I work from sunrise to sunset. I’m never not thinking about my work. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you how much money I have. Do you see these suits?” I practically rip off my tie. My temperature is rising fast, and I’m feeling like I might suffocate. “Thousand dollars each. Easy. No big deal, got a bunch of ’em. My house? Top floor condo in Back Bay, no expense spared. You think I need the money?”

Cate looks mortified and hurt, tears threatening to fall any second now, and it hurts, but I’m just done. A waiter walks up to me.

“Sir,” he starts. “I’m going to have to ask you to take this outside.”

“Fuck. Off,” I spit. It’s enough for the waiter to turn around and stride quickly away. I turn my attention back to the two of them. “I haven’t needed the money in a long time now, and I’m never going to need the money ever again. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, and what fucking good does it do? What fucking good has it ever done?”

I can feel hot tears starting to hit the inside corners of my eyes — Jesus, I’m gonna cry in a fucking restaurant. I swipe my arm across my eyes, feeling like a little kid. I’m done being pushed around by these two.

“Nothing! It never did a single good thing! Money for what, for paying my parents off? To keep them the hell out of my life? To just keep enabling their shitty addictions, because I can’t force myself to tell them what I really think about them and their goddamn family name? Ain’t no Kelly ever been worth a damn in this town until me. The money doesn’t get rid of them. I can’t talk to it, I can’t fuck it, I can’t wake up next to it, and I certainly can’t figure out a way to make it keep me company!”

They’re both looking at me differently now. They’ve gotta think I’m insane. Maybe I am, I can’t seem to shut up, can’t seem to stop the flood of hurt and anger pouring out of me.

“I go home every night, alone. All by myself. There’s nothing there waiting for me, no memories that I can look back on, nothing to make it a home. It’s a fucking fancy box in a stupid expensive filing cabinet, and I keep filing myself away, hoping that one day it’ll all just go away and I won’t feel like this. My life is already in the toilet; I don’t need that townhouse on top of it all. It hurts that it’s still in my life. It hurts me every time I have to walk into that place. It’s just a reminder of everything I lost years ago, and it’s never coming back. None of it is.”

I stop, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me if I don’t catch my breath, my chest heaving. The back of my shirt feels wet, like I just ran a mile.

“Jack,” Cate starts. Her voice sounds small, and part of me howls with guilt that I’m the one who made her sound so hurt and sad.

“No,” I say, cutting her off flat. I don’t want to hear it, after everything I just unloaded I think I can’t hear it. I can’t take her being soft, can’t take her needing me to be a decent guy, not right now. Not when I just showed her who I really am.

There’s a hand on my elbow suddenly, and I whirl around to see the waiter standing there behind a guy who’s got to be the manager.

“Sir, I have to insist.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m making a scene, I’m scaring the nice people, I fuckin’ know, pal!” I shout, practically tearing my money clip out of my pocket. I thumb through it quickly, then shrug and toss the whole damn thing on the table. “That oughta cover it, I’m outta here.”

I grab my suit coat and storm out as quick as I can, before I can humiliate myself any more than I already have. If that’s even possible.

Out on the sidewalk, the city continues to move around me like the world didn’t just explode. Cars, taxis, people, all of them darting here and there, too much movement and too much hurt and just too fucking much. It’ll die down soon enough, but not soon enough for me. I wish I could make it all go away right now. Maybe then I could get a little peace. Peace. I think of sitting with Cate on the couch that morning she threw the pie at me, and my guts twist. No such thing as peace.

I shrug my suit coat back on and reach inside my pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. I quit, mostly, except for emergencies, and this sure as shit qualifies. I flick the lighter and suck on the filter, drawing that smoke deep inside of me, and exhale a thick plume into the air.

I wait a bit longer, puffing on my smoke, until I can feel my heart rate start to come down. It’s just enough clarity to show me how much of a rat bastard I just was.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I think I really did it in there.

I think I really fucked it up completely for all of us. What was I thinking? How could I be so stupid? How could I be so cruel? Jesus, talk about being a true Kelly son.

I exhale shakily, and draw in another deep breath of tobacco.

“Jack.” Cate’s voice.

“Hey, Jack,” Dylan says right behind her. I look over. The two of them are walking toward me. This is it, I think. This is when they tell me to get out of their lives for good. And I deserve it. Every bit of it.

“I know,” I say. Brace for impact.

“No,” Dylan says. His tone is firm, no bullshit, but it’s kind, too, much kinder than I deserve. “You don’t know, Jack. But I do. I know what you’re feeling right now.”

“We both do,” Cate adds softly. I notice she’s holding the briefcase, and most of the contents of my money clip.

“I can’t believe I did that,” I say, holding back the emotions. Be a man. No crying in front of anyone, not ever. “Sully’s gone. That house is a graveyard to me. Nothing grows there, and the memories hurt too much. They’re all my happiest memories, and now I can’t think of any of them without getting a lump in my goddamn throat. And I can’t— I can’t— Fuck!” I suck on the cigarette like it’s an oxygen mask, but the goddamn thing’s burnt out. I drop it and crush it out on the pavement, wishing I could crush out everything I’m feeling along with it.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Cate says, coming around to my left side. She touches my arm, and it’s so gentle and sweet that it makes me want to scream with how much I don’t deserve it.

“We can make new memories,” Dylan says, to my right. “Happy ones. Memories that are just for us, the three of us.”

“Together,” Cate finishes. She gives my arm a little squeeze, and her cheeks color as she smiles tentatively. “We already have, Jack.”

I look between the two of them, and I can’t believe that they’re smiling at me right now. I can’t believe they’re doing anything other than walking away or kicking me out of their lives.

“Those aren’t new memories,” I say, trying to remain hard inside. Christ, I’m already craving another cigarette, even if just for something to do with my shaking hands. I jam them into my pockets. “That was just sex.”

Cate looks hurt, reeling back like I slapped her in the face.

I reach out for her, like I’m trying to pull the words back into my mouth.

“No, shit, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s not that. It’s just, those new memories aren’t the ones I wanted.” Fuck, that’s almost worse. “I mean…they’re not the same, right?” My voice sounds like I’m pleading, but they’ve gotta understand. “Sully gave me my entire life, practically laid out on a silver platter for me, and I’ll never be able to honor or repay that, not in a million years. What he gave me was so huge, so massive. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“I do,” Dylan says. “It’s family.”

The truth of it hits me like a sucker punch. My throat closes up. I’m going to cry again, I can feel it, if I don’t get out of here right now. Dylan’s absolutely right, but it’s something I never should’ve had, can never have again.

“I gotta get outta here,” I say, turning away.

“Don’t,” Cate pleads, but it’s too late. I’m already into a brisk stride. I don’t know how I can ever explain it to them, this feeling that I live with every single day, endlessly waiting for every good thing you’ve got to just end. Everything I have is transitory, it always has been. You learn not to make these attachments when you’ve lived my kind of life. You just expect that everything will go away eventually, and you move on with your life. One day, those two are gonna see right through me, if they don’t already, and this happy little fantasy is going to collapse in on itself. I can’t afford any of this in my life anymore.

It’s a house of cards, and I don’t want to be around when it falls down. Best to show myself out now, before they figure out the truth. Before they figure out that I don’t belong. Never have, and never will.

No matter how much, for a while there, it had felt like it was the one place I did.