TRINITY
I pauseat the entrance to the reception hall, my head still throbbing despite the painkillers. A sea of unfamiliar faces fill the space—family members, college friends, and business associates of Egret, Brendin and Saren. Nearly a hundred people, and I recognize only a handful.
My family sits at a large table in the center of the room, just another planet orbiting the sun of this spectacle. Five chairs at the circular table are conspicuously empty.
Luckily, the bride and grooms are seated at a small rectangular table on an elevated platform at the end of the room, far enough away that conversation won’t be possible during dinner.
But I still hesitate under the floral archway made of imported orchids.
Matheo’s hand finds the small of my back, his fingers brushing against bare skin where my halter dress dips low. Heat radiates from that single point of contact, spreading through my body and momentarily making me forget the pain in my skull.
“You ready?” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
I nod, not trusting my voice. After the doctor left—encouraging fluids and rest at $500/hour—Matheo had offered to help me shower because I’d still been unsteady on my feet. I’d declined and managed alone because I knew precisely what would happen if we ended up naked under cascading water together. Now, with his touch sending electricity through my veins, I’m regretting my decision. Maybe letting him into the shower would have released some of the tension crackling between us.
“Let’s get this party started then,” he murmurs, smile crooked. “We’ve got you.”
We’ve got you.
I can’t fight off the little thrill of awareness as they gather around me.
Cash and Lucas flank us on either side, with Kyren trailing slightly behind, following us into the fray.
As we navigate the sea of tables, Matheo’s fingers trace small circles against my skin. I don’t resist the urge to lean into his touch instinctively, drawing strength from his steady presence beside him.
I can do this.
We take our seats at the table. Matheo ends up on one side of me with Kyren on the other, while Lucas and Cash take the chairs two down from him. The conversation at the table abruptly halts. My brothers stare wide-eyed at the four men while Finn and Hans exchange glances. Adrian reaches for his glass of wine and takes a sip to hide his expression. All eyes eventually settle on my mother, who just watches me with narrowed eyes as if she is trying to communicate with me telepathically.
“Well, knowing what I thought I knew of Trinity,” Momsays, her voice crisp as she studies each of the men. “When I heard she said she was bringing a pack here, I assumed that meant she was bringing a litter of puppies.”
The tension breaks. Adrian’s booming laugh echoes across the table while Finn and Hans don’t hide their smiles. Even I can’t help but giggle, the sound bubbling up despite my nervousness.
“Margaret Jones-Becker,” Mom extends her hand to Matheo first. “I’d say I’ve heard so much about you, but my daughter’s personal life might as well be locked in a filing cabinet.”
Matheo takes her hand, his smile genuine. “Matheo…Grande. The pleasure is entirely mine.”
The rest of the men introduce themselves, each one as charming and affable as one would expect from men paid to be exactly that. Cash asks Finn and Hans about their work, which leads to a dually narrated monologue full of medical jargon and gross descriptions of bodily fluids. Lucas immediately engages my brothers in an animated discussion about video games, his hands gesturing wildly as he describes some virtual world they all seem to understand that I’ve never heard of.
“So,” Mom leans forward, eyes sparkling with curiosity, “how did you all meet our Trinity? She’s been mysteriously tight-lipped about the whole affair. Everything I know I had to get from the family group chat.”
I freeze, our hastily constructed backstory suddenly evaporating from my mind. Before I can stammer out a response, Kyren jumps in.
“It was at this little coffee shop in the city,” he says, his voice taking on a storyteller’s cadence. “Trinity was working—of course she was working—spreadsheets spread across the table, three empty cups beside her laptop.”
I stare at him, pulse quickening. This isn’t our agreed-upon story.
“She was wearing this blue dress,” Kyren continues, his eyes meeting mine. “The color of a summer storm. And she was humming—not loudly, just under her breath.Love Storyby Taylor Swift. I can practically still hear it.”
My breath catches. That was my song I had playing during our heat-breaking session—the one I’d hummed nervously even after he told me to turn off the speaker because he just wanted to hear me. He’d asked about it, and I’d told him it was my comfort song.
“I couldn’t help myself,” Kyren says, his gaze never leaving mine. “I went over and finished the chorus. She looked up, surprised, and then she smiled. That smile...” He shakes his head. “Well, I was done for.”
“He introduced us later,” Matheo smoothly interjects, his hand finding mine under the table. “Said he’d found someone special.”
“I knew she was the one when I saw her apartment for the first time. Did you know she puts sticky notes on everything?” Kyren continues, a detail he could only know from coming to my apartment for the heat-breaking session. “Color-coded. Even labels the leftovers with expiration dates. I figure any girl who keeps her life this organized, but still makes space for all of my chaos, is worth hanging on to.”
I feel warmth spreading through me as he weaves this fabricated story with threads of truth, followed immediately by confusion.
