Well…one of them.
Erin’s hot-blooded Italian mother had met and fallen madly in love with her hard-working and hard-playing Irish husband, and the result had been Erin Cafferty. Like him, she laughed loudly and often, spoke her mind, rarely flashed her fiery temper—but when she did, watch out—and once they’d committed to this relationship, she’d been all in, holding back nothing.
As such, she knew all about Ollie’s wild dreams, his desire to find a relationship just like that of his parents. Erin was as open-minded and adventurous as they came. Unlike the Moretti brothers, Erin had been quick to accept Layla’s relationship with both Finn and Miguel, confiding to him early on that she’d thought it was “very cool and totally hot,” and how she couldn’t imagine anything better than finding true love with not just one person but two. She’d told him she would be open to that kind of relationship if it was what he truly wanted.
If Oliver hadn’t already fallen for her before, that would have sealed the deal for him.
Erin had also heard all of Oliver’s “past lovers” stories, just as he’d heard hers, so she knew about his one night with Gavin and how it had ended. Why it had ended. Oliver had tried to convince her that he’d since come to realize that dream of a threesome relationship was just that…a dream.
But every now and then, like tonight, he’d slip up and reveal more than he should, and once more, she’d be left to wonder if she truly was enough. He hated doing that to her.
He’d let his dreams keep him and Gavin apart, so how could he expect her to believe the same wouldn’t hold true in their relationship? While he’d sworn to her that wouldn’t happen, it was clear she didn’t believe him.
“You know Gavin and I…” He started to say hooked up, but that felt too impersonal, especially given his feelings for Gavin.
“Slept together,” Erin finished when he stumbled. “I know that, but—”
“But nothing. It was just one time and we both knew afterwards that…it wasn’t enough. That something was missing.”
The truth was his night with Gavin had been fucking amazing. The only other lover he’d ever taken to bed who’d rocked his world like that was Erin. But Oliver had fucked it up when he’d misread the entire thing with Gavin, planning a future out loud for the two of them and some unknown woman.
“Nothing was missing in Gavin’s mind,” Erin softly reminded him.
He knew that. But it didn’t change the facts. “It wouldn’t work, Erin. I want a wife and babies.”
“And a husband. Gavin.”
Oliver hadn’t planned to add anything else to that list because he’d made that mistake once before. Lost someone he loved because his dreams were too big, too wild. But Erin wouldn’t let him lie. Not even to himself. Because she was right.
He didn’t just want a wife.
He wanted it all.
3
“Thanks for letting me know, Aaron.” Gavin stood at the doorway of the pub and watched Aaron Young cross the street and climb back into his police cruiser. He’d only just gotten home from work when he’d been waylaid by his foster uncle, a cop with the Baltimore police department, on the sidewalk outside.
He’d intended to head straight upstairs to the dorm, shower, and hit the couch, but given the information he’d just gotten, he thought a beer—maybe several—sounded a lot better.
Gavin walked to the bar, claiming a stool, suddenly feeling very tired. He’d actually come home from work in a good mood, feeling almost chipper as he recalled Friendsgiving and how he’d been invited to put one of Grandma Sunday’s ornaments on the tree. For a kid who’d grown up with fuck all in terms of family traditions—unless he counted his mother’s dark days and the beatings—being included in that one had made him feel like a man who’d won a billion-dollar lottery.
Padraig came over and pointed to the Guinness tap.
Gavin nodded. He’d lived in the apartment upstairs for a few years now, which meant Padraig had gotten damn good at knowing what drink he needed when. Padraig slid the full pint glass in front of him.
Gavin sighed, lifted it, and took a long swig. Then he noticed Emmy looking up from her computer. He caught her eye and nodded by way of hello. “Missed you the other night at Friendsgiving, Emmy,” he said.
She smiled and pointed to her computer. “Facing the deadline from hell. Wrote until the wee hours that night. Still not done.”
“Told her I’m going to put her on a daily word count regime so she doesn’t get this behind again.” Padraig pretended to crack a whip. “Write, wench, write!” he joked.
Emmy rolled her eyes and pointed to her empty glass. “Wine, barkeep, wine!”
He topped her glass up, then returned to Gavin when Emmy looked back at her computer screen, her fingers flying over the keys once more. Gavin couldn’t begin to understand how Emmy, a romance writer, was able to concentrate in the loud bar, but she swore the place had become her muse, feeding her stories.
“Was that Aaron I saw you talking to outside?” Padraig asked.
“Yeah. He, uh, had some news for me.”
Padraig studied his face but didn’t ask what news. He was giving Gavin the chance to decide if he wanted to share or not. Padraig’s quiet nature was what made him a very good bartender…and friend. Ever since turning twenty-one, Gavin had found himself sitting at this bar many a night, just because he enjoyed talking to Padraig.
Gavin had very few confidantes because he found it difficult to share things about himself and his past. Oliver had been the first person he’d opened up to, and then slowly, over time, he’d felt safe revealing more of himself to Sean, Lauren, and Chad.
Lately, he’d been thinking he would like to talk to Erin about his childhood. Erin was the first “girl” friend he’d ever had, as he’d always preferred the company of guys. Sometimes he wondered
