Page 89 of What We Brave
"You look perfect." They really do. The way they look at each other, the easy back and forth over supper, all of it was the stuff good marriages are made of. Was I a little jealous watching them? Totally.
"Nobody's perfect, Laine." She nudges my shoulder with her foot. "Nice deflection though. Very smooth."
I stare at the wobbling fan blade. Seriously, I don't think I'd mind if it tried to take me out right now. What the heck was I thinking, suggesting all three of us be in a relationship? That's insanity. How would that even work? God, if I thought my parents were disappointed in my dating life before this, I can't even imagine how they'd handle me coming around with two boyfriends.
I guess I wouldn't be the only person to ever disappoint a parent. But the idea of telling them makes me want to puke.
Or maybe that's the four beers.
Jamila pats my leg gently, and I glance over at her. I love her. She's pretty much the best friend I've ever had. And I think that if anyone could handle the crap show that I've turned my life into, it would be her.
"When you came out, was it hard? Like, with your parents? Your friends?"
Jamila's quiet for a moment. "My mom cried for three days. My dad didn't speak to me for six months. I lost a few friends who turned out not to be friends at all." She shrugs. "But I also found my people. I found Kerry. And we built something real."
Six months? That's not that bad I guess. "Your Dad, is he religious?"
She shakes her head. "I'm pretty sure he fell asleep the one time Mom made us go at Christmas."
There goes that theory. So if her Dad, a non-churchgoing guy needed six months, how long will my Dad need? Like, is it a 10x multiple? A 20x?
"Was it worth it? I mean— crap. I know it's not like you had a choice in the matter. You are who you are."
"Every single day." She leans forward. "Why are you asking about my coming out story while drunk on my floor?"
Okay Laine. You can do this. Moment of truth.
"I did something," I whisper. "Something maybe really stupid." Not maybe. Definitely. Epically.
One of Jamila's eyebrows arch. "Define stupid."
"I suggested—" God, saying it out loud makes it sound insane. "I suggested that Reid and Blake and I could all be together. Like,togethertogether. The three of us."
The silence stretches so long I finally lift my head to check if Jamila's still breathing.
She's staring at me with her mouth slightly open. Seems like a reasonable reaction.
"Girl, you suggested a throuple," she says slowly. "With your ex-boyfriend. And the man who spent months being a complete asshole to you."
Ouch. That hurts. "When you put it like that?—"
Her dark eyebrow wings up. "How else would I put it?"
I drop my head back to the floor with a thunk. "I know. Iknow. It's insane. I don't even know why I said it. They were fighting—literally shouting at each other about who deserved to be the bigger martyr—and nobody was asking whatIwanted, and I just... snapped."
"Snapped how?"
"Kissed them both. Then word-vomited about this couple —throuple— I knew in Costa Rica." I wave vaguely south with my beer. "They made it work. Real commitment, real love, all three of them."
Jamila's quiet again. Processing. Or maybe silently judging me. I wouldn't blame her. I'm judging me.
"And how did they react? Reid and Blake?"
"Confused. Scared. We talked about what we're afraid of, what it might look like. We were so mature for a minute there." I press the bottom of the cold bottle against my forehead. "Reid's worried he'll lose himself again if it falls apart. Blake's convinced he'll always be the outsider. And I told them I don't even know if I can love Blake. Like, romantically. Ever."
"Woah. That's... a lot of honesty for one night."
"Yeah." My laugh has a wobble in it. "And now I've had twenty-four hours to think about it, and I'm pretty sure I've made the worst suggestion in the history of suggestions. This is a horrible idea, right? Tell me it's a horrible idea."
