A Naughty Christmas Affair: Fake Dating My Ex Boyfriend's Brothers

Autumn

I just keep replaying the conversation over and over again in my mind, still more than a little shocked that this is where we ended up.

Dinner wraps up with no more surprises, and Mom gets up with a smile. “Alright, if we all want to move to the living room, we’ll have some dessert and coffee.”

Everyone gets up, but before the older Montgomery brothers can go far, I lean in to whisper to them, “Can I talk to you? All of you?”

“I guess we should,” Benedict says, nodding. The other two nod as well, and I lead them down the hall to the guest room, closing the door and locking it for good measure.

It’s not far enough away from the living room that we can be loud about this, so I start off in hushed tones. “What was that? What just happened?”

Elijah glares at his brothers. “It’s a good question. What the fuck was that?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Benedict replies with a snort. “You spoke up the same as we did.”

“Easier to place blame than take responsibility though,” Luke fires back. “Always has been.”

Elijah rolls his eyes. “So now you’ve got the moral high ground? Makes a nice change, I guess.”

“Which one of us are you talking to?”

“Either of you. Same shit applies.”

Benedict laughs, and there’s something almost bitter about it. “What were you saying about having the moral high ground again? You know what they say about pointing fingers, Elijah.”

“Don’t talk to me,” Elijah says, holding up a hand.

“What are you, five?”

“I was going to ask you the same question. Some of us grew up, learned about responsibility.”

“Oh, here we fucking go.”

I just stand there, watching the three of them go back and forth. This is particular issue is a new thing for them to argue about, but it’s clear that they’re used to fighting with each other like this. It’s like they’ve just picked a new subject to have an old argument about.

Their voices are hushed, but there’s legitimate anger and irritation in their words, and it doesn’t really seem like they care if they hurt each other’s feelings or anything.

But I guess there’s truth to the fact that family can hurt you like no one else.

Finally, I feel like I have to interrupt them or we’ll be in here all night.

“Hey,” I say, risking pitching my voice a little louder to get their attention. I hold up my hands, and they all stop, turning to stare at me. “Sorry. I just… look. I appreciate what you were each trying to do for me, I really do. I was embarrassed, and it was only going to get worse. But you don’t have to do this. It’s obvious you don’t really…” I trail off, not sure how to say ‘you don’t even want to be in the same room with each other’ without sounding rude. “You don’t really need to do this,” I finish. “So it’s okay.”

I swallow hard, staring down at the carpet, my lips pulling down a little. “And it would never work anyway, right? Who would ever believe that I was dating all three of you?”

When I chance a glance up, all three of them are frowning at me. I let my eyes slide back to the floor and keep going.

“I’ll just go tell everyone the truth. That you were all trying to help me save face, and it was a lie.”

My stomach clenches at the thought of that. If I didn’t already feel shitty enough about my ex marrying my thin, beautiful sister, this will just be the icing on the cake. I get to humiliate myself and look even more sad and pathetic.

I can already imagine the way Rhiannon will laugh about it. Autumn couldn’t get a date to the wedding, and then had to lie about it. Ha ha ha.

It would be easier if the floor opened up and swallowed me right now.

But that doesn’t happen, and the Montgomery brothers just keep looking at me, so I take a deep breath and walk out of the guest room.

There’s the sound of warm chatter from the living room. Mom is still holding court, and Rhiannon is glowing under the praise and light of being the favorite. Raymond has one hand on her knee, and they’re leaned into each other. A picture perfect couple.

No one looks up when I walk in. They don’t seem to notice I’m there at all.

When there’s a break in the conversation, I open my mouth, ready to just get it over with—but before I can say anything, someone catches my wrist.

It’s Benedict, one of his big hands pressed to my skin. “Wait,” he says in an undertone.

His brothers are behind him, and I half turn, confused.

Benedict uses the grip on my wrist to pull me back toward him. I stumble back, ending up pressed flush against him, and my cheeks flush as I feel the heat of his body through our clothes.

He feels strong and solid, and my heart pounds. I wonder if he can feel it.

Before I can say or do anything, he palms the back of my head and leans down to kiss me.