The door clicked shut behind her.
Mara stood still for a moment, her coat damp with spring rain, heart thudding too loud in her chest. She looked up—and there they were.
Avery, leaning against the kitchen island, holding a glass of wine like they’d been waiting for her all evening.
Jordan, sprawled on the couch with that half-smile, the one that always made her forget what she was about to say.
“Hi,” she said, breathlessly.
Jordan stood and crossed the room in a few steps, cupping her face with hands that were always gentle, always sure. “You came,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
“I did,” Mara replied. Her voice was soft, but steady.
Behind them, Avery set their glass down and walked over, fingers brushing Jordan’s as they stepped in close. They didn’t speak — they just leaned in and kissed Mara’s cheek, lips lingering. “We’re glad you said yes.”
Mara melted between them, caught in that slow gravity she’d been circling for weeks — months, really. This wasn’t rushed. It had never been rushed.
Jordan slipped her coat off, and Avery unzipped her boots, both of them working in quiet sync like a ritual they’d practiced before. And now, finally, it was her turn to be let in.
They guided her to the bedroom with slow hands and steady eyes.
There, with candles lit and blankets turned down, she was undressed like something precious. Every touch asked for permission, and every kiss waited for breath. When Jordan’s hands slid over her hips and Avery’s mouth found the hollow of her throat, she whispered a yes that trembled like a secret.
And then there were no more questions.
Only the warmth of two bodies pressing against hers — one in front, one behind — the rhythm of three heartbeats syncing as they sank into the softness of night.
Mara had never felt more wanted.
More seen.
More home.