Quarantales: The Complete Contemporary Romance Box Set, page 38
“But why did you do this for me?” I ask. “I’m just trying to understand.”
Nico steps to me and does that thing where he tilts my head and makes me look at him for a second or two before he gives me a kiss.
But instead of pressing his lips to mine, he says, “We want to celebrate you. Just go with it, okay?”
My heart melts. Well, that’s an answer. But it doesn’t make me any less confused.
I stop fighting them, though, and we spend the rest of the afternoon hanging out by the lake.
After he sets the pre-carved turkey to roast over the open grate and gives Jeb extensive flipping and basting instructions, Nico invites me for a quiet walk through the forest to work in my new boots. The forest is gorgeous. Green and alive with bird chirps and spring wildflowers. When I admit I’ve never walked through a forest before, Nico tells me about the first time Coach Granger took him and Mitch camping up here because Mitch missed the forest.
“I was all for Mitch getting back to his roots, but I didn’t understand why I had to come along. There were a few times with my mom when we didn’t have any place safe to stay and had to sleep on the street. I thought sleeping outside was something only white people did for fun.”
I laugh because I can’t disagree. I’ve never been homeless. But… “I’ve never thought of things like camping and hiking as fun either.”
“I totally get that,” Nico agrees. “But this strange peace came over me on the camping trip. The birds, the wind, the rustling of the trees. Suddenly I could feel, hear, and see it all. And that was when I realized nature was for everybody. It isn’t just a white thing. Everybody’s ancestors everywhere were communing with nature at some point. It’s just that a lot of brown and black people don’t have enough access to the natural world to know it’s something we should miss.”
Nico’s gaze sweeps over the magnificent forest. “That’s why I started a non-profit that sends black and brown kids from Milwaukee to the Sweet Lake Wilderness camp in the summer. Usually, Mitch, Jeb, and I visit once or twice. Throw a few balls. I love seeing how happy and healthy the kids look after spending a whole summer outside. That strange peace that nature gives you. It’s contagious. I’m bummed we won’t be able to do it this year because of the pandemic. But hopefully next year, we’ll be able to send kids to the camp again.”
A strange peace…
Funnily enough, I know exactly how he feels. Nico isn’t nature. But that’s what I feel whenever we spend time together. He’s an amazing human being, and he has a way of making me feel calm and easy. Like Lionel Ritchie’s proverbial Sunday morning, even though it’s technically late Saturday afternoon.
“I love that you do that,” I tell him. “I love that you saw what nature could provide and decided to pass on that gift to the next generation. That’s really generous and thoughtful.”
Nico waves off my praise. “I’ve been lucky my whole life. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t pass that luck on?”
Yeah, it’s easy to see why Nico’s teammates and foster brothers call him Saint Nic.
After we get back from our walk, Nico and Jeb continue to deal with the turkey. Meanwhile Mitch and I spend about an hour or so talking underneath the shade of a tree. It’s an easy meandering conversation until I ask him about the decrepit barn sitting on the other side of the lake. He tells me it’s left over from a neighboring pot farm that got raided along with his parents’.
“I’ve been thinking of buying that piece of property too, just so no one else will. It’d make this place even more remote than it already is. And with Sweet Lake so far away, we’ve definitely got some homeschooling in our future. I got homeschooled until the age of fourteen and I was fine when I transferred to school in Milwaukee. That’s one of the reasons I’m so obsessed with saving money and renovating the cabin. I’d like our kids to grow up the way I did—but you know without the smell of pot and the fear of getting raided by the feds. Also, with three dads who will always be there for them, instead of one who doesn’t think about protecting his wife and kid.”
Mitch’s face isn’t so pretty now. It’s set in harsh lines, angry and bitter. “I visit my mom in prison, but I can’t forgive my dad for making her part of this business. He knew the stakes. Knew she’d go to jail just like him if they got caught.”
I touch his arm lightly, needing to comfort him. “My dad…um…he abandoned us too. Didn’t leave me with anything but his name. He was from an old school southern white family, and they disowned him when they found out he’d knocked up his black girlfriend. According to my mom, he made it through the first year, but that was it. He split without a word one morning and she was too proud to ever get back in contact with him. She didn’t ask him for child support or any money either. Not even when she got sick.”
I tell my story carefully, pausing often to make sure I don’t spill any specific details. But I need Mitch to know he’s not alone in his feelings.
Mitch looks over at me, his eyes full of curiosity. “Did you ever get in contact with him?”
Again, I have to pick and choose my words. “I thought about it. After my mom died. It was either ask him for money or dance to get the rest of the way through college. I even got as far as going to his house out in the suburbs. His wife and kids were leaving for soccer practice when I pulled up. He had two little girls and a white wife almost as pretty as my mom. I watched them pull away before knocking on the door.”
I pause, the pain of the memory washing over me again.
“What happened after you knocked on the door?” Mitch takes my hand, comforting me, even though I’m supposed to go to Nico with all my personal stuff.
“He answered. And I could tell he recognized me right away. Everybody told me I looked like the light-skinned version of my mother growing up. But all he said was, ‘Yes? May I help you?’ And even though he could help me, I knew this was the opposite of what my mother would have wanted. So I replied, ‘Nothing’ and walked away. And then I applied for a job to become a dancer. It didn’t even feel like a choice.”
He rubs a thumb over my hand and lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry we got such shitty dads.”
I laugh a little. “Me too. But the life you’re planning for your future wife and children…that sounds amazing.”
He gives me a quizzical look.
“What?” I ask.
“That is not how Charlotte responded when I floated the idea of moving up here. She claimed she wanted to be a stay-at-home wife when we first met, but she said we could only use this place as a vacation cabin. We were hoping if we did a nice enough renovation, she might change her mind, but no dice. She dumped us before we could even show her the place.”
Is that so…
I was fully Team Charlotte when I first arrived—especially when it came to Jeb. But now I feel insulted on the guys behalf. I get this life isn’t for everyone. I would never have imagined how much I’d like it before landing here. But she should have least given remote living a chance.
“You jealous?” Mitch’s question interrupts my anti-Charlotte tirade.
I pause. And not because of his sly smirk.
But because it’s true. When I poke at the feeling inside my chest, it’s jealousy. Murky and green.
And there’s another emotion hanging out with it. One I’ve never experienced before. A clingy possessiveness that makes me want to fight Charlotte like we’re in junior high.
Luckily, I’m saved from answering Mitch’s question when Jeb tells us to get our asses over to the fire for dinner.
My birthday had already come and gone back in February. Tommy took me to Aria, an Atlanta hot spot. He always takes me to a five-star restaurant on my birthday.
But I’d swear on anything that I’ve never had a birthday dinner as good as the campfire turkey and whole sweet potato Jeb and Nico whipped up.
“Don’t thank me,” Jeb says when I can’t stop raving. “All I did was shoot the turkey and pluck it. Nico did the rest.”
“It’s all about the brine,” Nico tells us. He doesn’t let anybody make anything more complicated than sandwiches in his kitchen. But as always, he’s eager to break down his recipes. “A lot of people use sugar, but I use honey for anything we’re making over the campfire. Honey and fire. That’s the secret to wild turkey.”
Honey and fire…
As we eat, the sun sets over the lake. Watching the resplendent sight, a huge, unnamable emotion fills my chest, and I find myself confessing another truth to them. “Sunset orange…that’s my favorite color.”
A moment of silence for the majestic wonder above us.
Then Jeb says, “Mine’s black. Now, can we throw those damn heels of yours on the fire?”
With lots of laughter, we do just that.
And to my surprise, Jeb, who never acts silly, starts singing the “Happy Birthday” song as we watch them burn. Mitch and Nico also join in, and as they sing, it feels like my old life with Tommy is burning away.
These guys…
They’re the opposite of Tommy. They make everything better, not worse. They make my chest fill up with sunset orange.
God, I love them.
I freeze.
Wait…what did I just think?
I’m not allowed to feel that way about them. This thing between us…it’s a temporary arrangement before I leave them to their lives and a future wife. Loving them would be dangerous, and even if it wasn’t, I don’t deserve three such amazing guys.
But the feeling…the sunset orange inside my chest…it refuses to go away.
“You okay, Goldie?” Nico asks.
I don’t realize they’ve finished singing until I look up to find them all staring at me. Nico looks worried. Mitch looks like he’s analyzing my face. And Jeb just looks angry at himself.
“I know it’s not really your birthday,” he says, casting his eyes away. “I was just having some fun.”
“No, it was great. The best birthday I’ve ever had,” I let him know. “I’m just a little cold.”
They seem almost relieved by my explanation.
“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Nico asks, wrapping an arm around me.
“Get her inside, Mitch. Nico and me will take care of cleanup and putting out the fire,” Jeb commands.
Nico transfers me to Mitch, who tucks me under his arm as we walk back to the cabin. “Be happy I talked Jeb out of camping outside tonight. I figured it’d be too cold for somebody from the South. But don’t worry, I’ll warm you up when we get home.”
Mitch keeps his promise. Then Nico joins us. By the time I fall asleep between them, I’m nice and toasty.
“Happy Birthday, Goldie,” they say in the distance as I drift off to sleep full of sunset orange.
But I don’t answer. I’m afraid if I open my mouth all the things I shouldn’t be feeling…all the sunset orange will spill out of me.
Chapter Twenty
I feel the warm sun on my skin when I wake up the next morning. But nothing else.
That’s strange. I’ve become used to waking up in someone’s arms, no matter how long I stay in bed.
I roll over, confused. Then freeze.
Tommy is lying on the opposite pillow, his eyes sparkling with wrath and madness.
“Did you really think I’d let you get away, you little slut?”
Something warm and liquid touches the bottom of my feet. Too viscous to be water.
Somehow I know, even before looking down….
It’s blood. So much blood.
Nico, Mitch, and Jeb are lying at the end of a bed that has somehow become bigger than before. Their eyes are wide open. And they’ve each got a bullet hole in their foreheads.
I know who put it there. But Tommy’s next words confirm it. “I killed them. They’re dead, and it’s all your fault.”
My whole world collapses because he’s right. I stayed too long, and Tommy found me. And the men I shouldn’t have fallen in love with have paid the price.
I scream in anguish.
“Goldie, wake up! Goldie, mija. Wake up!”
My eyes pop open, and the world is much different. Nico is there, not Tommy. He’s got his hands on my shoulders, and he looks worried.
“Nico?”
He hugs me tight. “Yeah, it’s me. You were screaming. Having a nightmare, I think.”
The door suddenly bursts open, and Mitch and Jeb appear. Their work boots, jeans, and t-shirts let me know they must have heard me all the way upstairs. They’ve both got their fists curled, like they’re ready to take on anything. For me.
I haven’t shame spiraled in months, but everything inside of me curdles as Nico tells them, “She was having a nightmare. She’s awake now.”
“What kind of fucking nightmare?” Jeb demands. “You sounded terrified. I almost stopped to get my rifle.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Mitch sits down on the edge of the bed and says, “Sorry’s not enough, baby. You’ve got to let us know what’s going on with you.”
Nico squeezes me tighter in his arms. Usually, he’s the one telling Jeb and Mitch to back off when they start interrogating me. But this time, he says, “We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us.”
I don’t need to talk. I need the Canadian border to open so that I can get somewhere safe. And I don’t want to bring it up. Don’t want to burst the warm fantasy bubble we’ve all been living in for the last two months.
But I have to tell them, “The money you said you would pay me. I’m going to need it. Soon.”
Nico stiffens. And I know they’re probably having another one of those silent look conversations of theirs.
In the end, Mitch says, “Okay, our bank up here is too small to have that kind of money on hand. One of us would have to make a special trip down to Muskego to withdraw it in person, and Jeb’s got a meeting with the team brass in a couple of weeks. Two weeks…can you give us that?”
Two weeks…
My heart aches at the thought of leaving them. But I have to. The feeling from the nightmare lingers. And I shiver again at the thought of Tommy finding me and hurting them.
I know the guys like having me here. I’m like a beer after work. A good distraction. But it’s better for everyone if I stop this. The upstairs is nearly finished, they told me. I should let them get back to searching for the perfect wife, let them get on with their lives. Without me.
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod at Mitch. “Okay, two weeks.”
Two more weeks. I’ll give myself two more weeks with the best men I have ever known. Then I’ll let them go.
NICO
I don’t swear nearly as much as Mitch and Jeb, but there’s no way in hell two weeks is going to be enough.
Despite that, every night isn’t an orgy with us. Goldie comes to Mitch to complain about her extensions—I guess he’s suddenly a black hair expert or something in her eyes? And you know Mitch must be crazy about this woman. He won’t let me watch so much as a Drake video on his phone. But he lets her mess up his YouTube algorithm with a bunch of box braid videos.
“My mom taught me to braid, but it’s been a while,” she tells Mitch apologetically after she's done.
Mitch doesn’t mind. And neither do I. In fact, I end up driving three hours to the Amazon Hub locker over in Green Bay for six packages of RastAfri Golden Brown/Blond Mix Jumbo Braid hair.
The next day, Mitch and I sit with Goldie in front of the TV in the living room and offer to help. After watching the tutorials a few more times, all three of us get to work. It takes the whole day. We binge the entire run of Tiger King, including the Joel McHale interview special. Jeb tries to sub himself in, but his braids are so chunky and messy, Mitch tells him to go upstairs and work on the house.
“No, I’m staying down here. I want to see how this crazy shit turns out,” Jeb answers.
So that’s how we end up spending one of our last days with Goldie, braiding her hair.
“Should we feel bad that so far the Netflix show we resemble most is Tiger King?” Mitch asks the next morning when it’s Jeb’s turn to wake up with Goldie.
I take a sip of coffee, more than a little consternated. Not because he’s comparing us to a racist gay mullet with a tiger fetish. But because “At least he married both his husbands. We can’t even get Goldie to give us her real name. Plus, she’s determined to head out, even though the Canadian Border’s still not open and race relations in the America outside this cabin is pretty much a dumpster fire right now after the George Floyd and Breonna Taylor murders.”
A shadow passes over Mitch’s face, but he says, “I want to keep her here safe with us too. But we can’t make her stay if she doesn’t want to.”
“No, we cannot.”
I let out a sigh. It feels hopeless. But then a new possibility dawns, clear and bright.
“It’s only been a few months, but that’s enough for me,” I say to Mitch. “I know what I want, and I think you do too.”
Mitch is silent a moment. But then he nods in terse agreement. “I’ll throw Jeb’s vote in there too since he’s currently happy as a clam to be shoved up in his storage space with her.
“Good,” I say, my voice and my resolve hardening. “Then we’ve got to do something to keep her from leaving us.”
Mitch leans forward, with a similarly resolved glint in his eye. “What do you have in mind?”
Chapter Twenty-One
GINA
A couple of weeks pass in a blink of an eye. And true to their promise, the day before the two weeks is up, Jeb heads down to Muskego to pick up the money and take care of a few other things.
I spend most of my last day in the old pot field. Nothing’s ready to harvest quite yet, but I’ve managed to get plenty of stuff in the ground. Carrots, peas, spinach, a few varieties of squashes—including pumpkins, onions, tomatoes, sweet corn, and even a few watermelons. By the time the guys leave for pre-season in late July, Nico will be able to pull everything he needs to make homemade salsa from the ground.
