Julia's POV
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, bright and insistent in the dim room.
Camila.
I picked it up immediately, my chest tightening before I even read the message.
I don't know what I'm doing, Jules. Everything feels complicated again.
I exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling as if the answer might be written there.
Beside me, Tyler shifted. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me back against him like muscle memory. He pressed a kiss to the curve of my neck, warm and unhurried, clearly trying to remind me where I was.
Normally, it would've worked.
Tonight, my mind was miles away.
"She's spiraling," I murmured, more to myself than to him.
Tyler hummed against my skin, lips lingering just long enough to make my breath hitch. "You're doing that thing," he said. "Where you disappear."
"I can multitask," I muttered, already typing.
Complicated doesn't mean wrong. And you know I trust him with you. Anthony's always loved you—he just didn't know how to say it before.
I meant every word. I'd watched Anthony orbit Camila , steady and quiet, like gravity. He wasn't perfect—but he was safe. And he was real.
Tyler shifted again, this time more deliberate. His mouth traced along my jaw, his hand tightening just slightly at my hip, his mouth dropped to my breasts frustration bleeding through the affection.
"Julia," he said, low. "I'm right here."
I smiled despite myself but didn't look away from the phone yet. "And Camila's falling apart."
He scoffed softly. "She always lands on her feet."
"Because people catch her," I shot back.
He kissed me then—slow, intentional, clearly done with competing with a screen. I let it happen for a second, just long enough to feel that familiar pull, before breaking away with a laugh.
"Tyler," I said, breathless. "We're going to be late."
That did it.
He frowned. "Late for—"
"For Antwan," I finished, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "If we don't hurry, he's going to be standing there alone wondering why he ever agreed to this."
Tyler groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I finally get you back to myself and now I have to share again."
"You always have to share," I said lightly, grabbing my clothes. "That was the deal."
He muttered something under his breath, jealousy sharp but familiar. Tyler never liked it—but he'd never walked away either.
After a beat, he pulled on his shirt and sighed. "I missed him."
I glanced back at him, softening. "Me too."
As I slipped my phone into my pocket, my thoughts drifted back to Camila—hoping she could feel even a fraction of the certainty I had.
She wasn't wrong for wanting more.
She wasn't foolish for trusting Anthony.
And sometimes, the messiest connections were the ones worth fighting for.
Antwan's POV
I was frustrated.
We had just established our relationship, and then I had to leave town to deal with personal business—leaving Julia alone with Tyler. The thought gnawed at me. I knew Tyler. I knew how much time he'd spend with her, how easily he'd slip into that space beside her.
She meant everything to me. I wanted her to know that.
I was still trying to wrap my head around how this was going to work—the three of us, the balance, the boundaries—but that was a conversation we needed to have together. No assumptions. No resentment left to rot.
I was about to order a cold drink when I heard the motorcycle pull in.
I didn't need to look.
It was Tyler.
And on the back of the bike sat Julia.
The air left my lungs.
She was stunning—effortless, radiant in that way that made the world tilt slightly toward her. Tyler helped her off, his hand lingering just long enough to make my jaw tighten, then walked her toward the door. When they came in and sat across from me, I forced myself to stay calm.
I wanted to pull her into my arms. Kiss her. Prove that I was still here.
Instead, I kept my hands to myself.
We made small talk. She ordered fries. Tyler ordered a burger. I barely tasted my food, too focused on the way Julia laughed, the way her knee brushed mine under the table.
After we finished eating, it was Julia who suggested our spot.
We talked it over, bantered a bit, and eventually Tyler and I agreed. Julia decided to ride with me in my van, while Tyler took his bike. He said he had some things to grab and would meet us about half an hour later.
The moment we separated, the tension shifted.
Julia slid into the passenger seat, buckling in. As I started the engine, I caught sight of faint marks along her neck.
Jealousy tugged sharp and sudden—but I swallowed it.
"Seatbelt," I said evenly.
She smiled and complied, then sang along softly to a Taylor Swift song as we drove, her voice filling the van like nothing was wrong. Like I wasn't unraveling beside her.
At the lookout point, I parked behind the trees where I usually stopped. The engine cut, and silence settled thick between us.
She turned to face me.
"Can I have a hug?" she asked quietly. Then, after a beat, "And… I'm sorry about the marks."
Something in my chest cracked.
"You don't have anything to apologize for," I said, my voice low. "We agreed to this. Tyler and I both did."
I leaned closer—not fast, not careless—and kissed her.
She wasn't expecting it. I felt the surprise in the way she froze for half a second before melting into me. Her lips tasted faintly sweet, like her lip balm, and it was enough to make my head spin.
I pulled back just enough to look at her, my hand resting at her thigh, the air between us heavy and charged. Her breath was uneven. Mine wasn't much better.
"God," I murmured, resting my forehead against hers. "I missed you."
She covered her face, overwhelmed, and I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead—grounding myself before I crossed a line I couldn't uncross.
"I want to talk," I said softly. "All three of us. About the details. About how this works—really works."
She nodded, taking the water I handed her, still catching her breath.
Not five minutes later, headlights cut through the trees.
Tyler rolled in, dismounting with a bag of snacks in one hand and a small stuffed animal in the other.
I exhaled slowly.
I had to give it to him—when it came to Julia, he never missed.
And neither of us intended to.