“Maybe someday.” I raise an eyebrow. “For now, I think my mole in the mayor’s office story is going to look great on the front page with my byline. Don’t you? Having that kind of clout on my application for journalism school isn’t going to hurt, either.”
Karina inclines her head. There’s a sparkle of appreciation in her eye, along with a request for forgiveness. I’m not quite ready to give it to her yet, but something tells me I will. Soon. There’s so much room in my heart to fill now. So much grace to offer. Love to the power of three can do that to a person.
I take my time looking each of my guys in the eye. “As far as the relationship piece?” I shake my head. “Not until we spend some time writing more of the story. It could be a while.”
“Because this story doesn’t have an end,” says Banks, every word laden with affection.
And as usual, he’s right.
Epilogue
Gabe
* * *
Four Years Later
* * *
I still steal things.
Right now, I have my eye on one of the white daisies in Elise’s flower crown. She’s wearing it on the dance floor, her arms wrapped around her father’s neck as they dance. I can already see how that flower will look in the scrapbook I’m keeping. Technically, I guess, I’m not really stealing, since everything I take is kept inside of the leather-bound pages where all four of us can easily find it.
There are ticket stubs from our first concert together. Ed Sheeran in Forest Hills. I don’t remember a lot about the show because I was too busy watching our girl sing along with her best friend, Shayna. Me and the guys basically took turns bringing them drinks and standing in the endless line for merchandise. That was well over three years ago—and one of the best nights of my life. Our life.
That’s the night she got drunk and told us living apart wasn’t working anymore.
When we started this relationship, the plan was to keep separate residences. Elise could see us separately during the week, followed with a group date on the weekends. It’s so laughable now to think we could control this. Tidy the four of us up into a schedule.
We’re not containable.
Don’t get me wrong, it was amazing having Elise to myself on those solo dates. I even got her to a few Mets games. But returning her home the next morning was awful. Accepting it would be several days before seeing her again. Knowing she was spending the night in Banks’s or Tobias’s bed without me never seemed right. The evening of the Ed Sheeran concert, we all finally admitted to feeling to same way. Solo dates were still an option, but the majority of the time, it needed to be all of us. These men I consider my brothers now. And our Elise.
We bought a house together, not too far from my old place in Queens. Elise spent two years at Baruch earning her associate’s degree in journalism, before being accepted to Columbia where she got her bachelor’s. She’s taking her time deciding which news outlet she wants to work for. After her legendary expose in the Times four years ago, she can have her pick.
But trust me, we’ll be keeping a close eye on whoever ends up as her managing editor.
Along with anyone else who comes within ten feet of the center of our universe. Speaking of whom, she’s no longer dancing with her father, because the song is over. Tobias claims her with a kiss on the forehead, swaying her into the next dance.
It’s amazing how much the Brit has changed over the years. He’s relaxed in his own skin. Quicker to laughter. Our boarding passes to London are another item in my scrapbook. He overcame his fear of returning home last year. Having us along for the ride helped. Now, he is the top investor in a series of high-end sashimi restaurants throughout Queens. I can’t be the only one who wants decent sashimi in this borough, he once said. Apparently, he was right.
I have a whole separate scrapbook dedicated to ticket stubs for the Flare. Tobias, Elise and I have attended so many matches, I’ve lost count. We sit in the family box alongside Banks’s mother, who hasn’t missed a game in four years. They added another championship banner to the rafters of the stadium recently—and the night of the ceremony, somehow, we just knew. It was time to propose to Elise.
She wanted to wait until she got her degree to plan the commitment ceremony. Not going to lie, there were some days I thought I would die without having some kind of vow exchange between us. Not because I feared I would lose them without it. More from a need to express out loud how much they mean to me.
Speaking of Banks’s mother, she’s dancing with her son right now. She must feel me observing them from my spot at the bar, because she raises a hand and waves. I give an exaggerated tug of my bow tie, pretending that it’s cutting off my oxygen and she laughs, before going back to her conversation with Banks.