I should be angry.

That’s the way this plays out in movies, right? Man finds another man’s clothing in his woman’s bed. He gets pissed. Someone inevitably gets punched. I should be fuming, stomping around here like a brute, but I have no proof. I’m a lawyer. Proof is kind of my thing.

Even if I did have solid evidence… the other man is Thad. Or, at least, it could be. That tie ain’t exactly one of a kind.

So, if my best friend is sleeping with Phoebe, then I should be angry.

Why aren’t I more pissed off?

A knock on the door echoes through my condo.

I close the file in front of me and set it down on the large stack taking over my kitchen table. It’s not like I was actually absorbing that information anyway. I’ll have to re-read it later.

I stand up and walk over to answer the door.

Speak of the devil.

Thad grins at me from the hallway. “Hey, man,” he greets.

“Hey…” I look at the tie around his neck. Solid and navy-blue. No red checkers. “What’s up?”

“I need a couch.” He cranes his neck to look over my shoulder. “Unless you’ve got company. I can come back tomorrow…”

I step to the side. “Nope. Just me tonight. Come on in.”

“Awesome.” He walks in, rolling his suitcase behind him. “So, what’re you up to? No big date plans?”

I close the door. “No. Just paperwork, mostly.”

“Bummer.”

I move back to the table. “How long are you staying this time?”

He heads into the kitchen to help himself to my beer. “A few days, if you don’t mind,” he says as he opens the fridge. “Don’t feel like you have to entertain me.”

I laugh. “I never do.”

“Need a drink?”

“Yes, please.”

He returns to the living room with two open bottles. “Hey, have you eaten yet?” he asks as he offers one to me. “I don’t know about you but I’m dying for a steak.”

I pause, noticing his hard stare and crinkled brow. “Steak?”

“Yeah, let’s get some steak. I mean…” he squints, “unless you’ve already had it recently or something…”

“No…” I lie. “I haven’t had it.”

He grins as he passes around me. “Then, let’s fire up the grill! Watch the game. Have a little guy-on-guy fun.”

I chuckle and set my bottle down on the table. “Sure, just give me a few minutes to clear this stuff.”

“You still got that big case going on?” he asks, plopping down on my sofa.

“Yeah.”

“Keeping really busy then, huh?”

“Somewhat.”

“No time for fun or hot dates or dinner with girls at their apartments? Stuff like that?”

I turn my head to look at him and he stares back, hard and unblinking. He’s watching me. Studying my reaction. Hairs stand up on the back of my neck. If my suspicions of him and Phoebe are correct then, maybe…

He suspects me, too.

“Not really, no,” I say. “In fact, I’ve been stuck in meetings all week.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks before chugging his beer.

“Yeah. Hey—” I cross my arms, “you know that tie?”

“Tie?”

“The one you have with the red checkerboard pattern?”

“Yes,” he says with a nod.

“Do you mind if I borrow it?” I ask, staring him down. “Could really use a fresh look for this meeting in the morning.”

“Sure, I’ll fish it out for you later.”

“Can you do it now?” I ask. “Just like to see if I need to fit in time to iron it before work…”

Thad pauses, his eyes slowly shifting to his suitcase by the door. His brows pinch as he leans forward to set his beer on the table. “No problem,” he says, standing up.

I stay on my toes, pivoting slightly as he makes his way toward his suitcase. He’s still watching me, still studying me, and I do the same to him.

Is it true?

I stare harder as he unzips the case and holds it open. He shifts through his clothes with one hand, his eyes jumping up to me once before focusing on what he’s doing.

“Hmm…” he says, shrugging. “Not here.”

“No?” I ask.

He drops the lid and stands up. “Must have left it behind in a hotel room somewhere.”

“Must have.” I nod slowly. “Probably just slipped right out of your suitcase.”

“Probably.”

“Or you tied it up somewhere and forgot about it.”

He blinks once, connecting the dots as I do.

We stop moving. Stop breathing. Stop thinking. A thick, unbearable silence falls between us. Pressure mounts. Pulses pound. Seconds tick by as we stare at each other, wondering which one of us will cave first.

We both do.

“You’re fucking Phoebe!” We gasp. “How’d you know?”

I hold up my hands. “Okay, wait. Let’s just—”

Thad points a finger. “So, it was your mustard!”

I blink. “Mustard?”

“There was a plate,” he says. “In her sink. Yellow crap smeared on it—”

“When did you see that?”

“Yesterday morning. I got there around two the night before.”

I lower my hands to my sides. “I left just before one… after I found your tie knotted off on her headboard.”

Thad wanders back to the couch and sits down. He grabs his beer and takes a long, slow sip, giving me time to fetch mine, too.

I take the seat beside him on the couch. We sit in silence, drinking and staring at the walls.

“You’re fucking Phoebe,” he repeats.

“Yes, I am,” I say. “And so are you.”

“Since when?”

I scoff. “Since when have you been?”

“About a week,” he says.

“A week?”

“Yeah. Took her out for drinks last Friday. We ended up at her place and… that’s when I misplaced my tie.”

I nod. “I took her out to dinner on Thursday. We ended up back here and we…” I gesture around us.

“Where?” he asks.

“On this couch.”

“No—Dinner. Where did you take her?”

“Oh. Kitano’s.”

He laughs. “That explains why she practically ran in the opposite direction when I tried to take her there.”

“Wait…” I think back. “She was the flight attendant you wanted a table for?”

“Yeah… and I guess she was the girl from your gym?”

We fall quiet, both caught red-handed in our lies.

I inhale to speak, quickly realizing that I have no idea what to say. I take another drink instead, finishing off the bottle but I keep it clenched in my hand like a damn security blanket.

Finally, words come out. “We’re both dating the same girl,” I say.

“Yep,” Thad says, “and we both lied about it.”

I won’t argue with it. It’s the truth, after all.

“Okay…” I clear my throat. “Given the situation, it would make the most sense for the guy who cares the least about her to step aside and let the other be happy.”

“I agree.” He pats my shoulder. “I really appreciate you doing that for me, Max. You’re a true friend.”

“Whoa—” I furrow my brow and shake off his palm. “I’m not stepping aside.”

He turns to me. “But you just said—”

“I said the guy who cares the least about her should step aside.”

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s you.”

“No, it’s not. I care about her. A lot.”

“So do I.”

“Not as much as I do.”

His mouth sags. “I emphatically disagree.”

I grit my teeth. “I’m not giving her up.”

“Neither am I.”

We stare at each other, barely blinking in a lingering stalemate.

“So, what do we do?” he finally asks. “Flip a coin?”

“I’d never agree to those odds,” I say. “Obviously, I care more about her if you would.”

He snorts. “It was rhetorical. Obviously, a coin toss is ridiculous.”

“So, we let her choose.”

We fall silent again and a wave of confidence rushes through me.

There’s no way Phoebe wouldn’t pick me. She’s had a thing for me for years. Being with me is what she’s always wanted. I can feel it in my bones. Phoebe is mine.

I glance at Thad, struck down by the same confidence displayed on his cocky face.

But she wouldn’t choose him… right?

And if she did… could we ever be friends again?

Thad purses his lips. “Or…”

I wait for him to finish but he hesitates. “Or what?”

“We could just…” he speaks through the edge of his mouth, “keep doing what we’re doing now…”

I blink. “You mean share her?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

I roll my shoulders back. “Would she do that?”

“She’s been doing it for a week already — apparently — and it’s not like it’d be the first time we’ve both dated the same girl at the same time.”

“Yeah, but are we really going to compare Sally Sweet to Phoebe Pink?”

“Hell, no,” he says with a laugh.

“This is different.”

“Way different.”

“I mean, I might be…” I pause, surprised with how naturally all of this feels to say out loud. “I think I’m falling for her, Thad.”

He looks at me and nods. “So am I.”

I exhale the air from my lungs. “Would you do that?” I ask. “Share Phoebe with me?”

“Would you?”

We make firm eye contact again.

“Same time,” I say. “Count of three. One. Two. Three.”

“Yes,” we say in unison.

“Hmm…” He hums with squinting eyes. “Interesting.”

“Obviously,” I gesture to myself, “I would be her main boyfriend and you’d be the side guy.”

He sets his bottle down hard on the table. “Excuse me?”

“You spend half of your time in the air,” I say. “I live and work in LA. So does she.”

“For now,” he points out. “She’s up for that promotion and if she gets it, she’ll live and work in New York. I spend more time there than you do.”

My chest clenches. “She told you about that?”

“Of course, she did. Look, man, if this is happening, it’s gotta be equal. Fifty-fifty. No secrets. We never kept them from each other before, no reason to start now. No petty jealousies. And none of that side guy bullshit. It’s boyfriend and boyfriend, or co-boyfriends. Not boyfriend one and boyfriend two.”

“Okay but what if we’re wrong and she doesn’t want to do this at all?” I ask.

“Then…” Thad smiles. “We convince her.”

I sit back in my seat and furrow my brow so hard I can barely see.

Can I really do this? Share a woman with my best friend? Spend time with her, connect with her, make love to her… only to pass her back? And vice versa. Can I invite her into my bed knowing that she might smell like another man?

That night we all spent together flashes in my head. Thad and I taking turns. Phoebe accepting us both, giving us equal attention as we took care of her.

Can I really do this?

Yes. I can. I absolutely can.

I glance at Thad again and we both nod.

This is wrong, isn’t it?

Why does it feel so right?