The Billionaire Throuple

Samuel the Third [Throuple secured?]

Nehemiah and I are heading to the hospital to meet Andreas. I chose my midnight blue Phantom for the drive. It is the embodiment of some of my most notable features; the eyes, the sleekness, the cunning. It's luxurious, but not too flashy. My hope is that one day Nehemiah might be comfortable using it as his own.

I don't imagine that day will come soon, given today's excitement. He's up to speed with the narrative I've chosen for Cameron's visit, so there's no reason to leave my second, but equal, love further unattended.

Nehemiah had mixed emotions about Andreas rescuing me, but everything else went over as expected. I was worried when I asked him to hear Cameron out. Not about him agreeing. I knew he wouldn't. As far as strategies go, that was pure brilliance. I doubted my ability to pass it off as genuine. Crises averted.

The request should soothe any irrational gut feelings suspecting my involvement. Nehemiah will think, 'if Sammy framed CW, he wouldn't have asked me to see him. Matter of fact, he'd have asked me not to,' when in actuality, I knew asking him not to see Cameron would've ensured that he did.

Now, he'll see me as the one who is willing to look past such immutably dark deeds to find the last remaining shred of humanity in him. Cameron will snuff that out by ranting like a lunatic since all evidence points to him. His best and only move: start drafting letters of remorse.

I turn to Nehemiah and smile. He returns it and I adore the imperfections. The ever slight crooks of his lower teeth give his smile personality. I steal a glance at the center console where he's left an upturned palm, not-so-inconspicuously inching it nearer. I resist.

I took note of his souring expression when I referred to him as a friend, which was why I offered up 'I'm really getting to like you', but he cannot have me, not yet. If our union is to be successful, he must grow closer to Andreas. Their progress toward each other is lagging behind mine, with each of them. 

"After he fainted, did he need to be resuscitated or what?" he asks, referring to Andreas. I shake my head. "Then why get a check-up? Ain't like the ER is cheap."

I shrug, but my worry returns. "I think it was the excuse—me." I cough to cover up my near gaff. "The police suggested it and they were right to do so. You can never be too careful."

ImI put the car in park as he nods, absent any strange looks. We exit the car and walk to the hospital in complete silence, more words than distance between us.

At the reception desk, there is a rotund woman with a disaster of curls on her head wearing what looks to be a blue stewardess outfit and emerald earrings. Emerald in color. The material is plastic. As I approach, she mutters and smacks a clipboard down on the counter.

I flinch. "Ma'am, we're here to see Andreas Santiago. I believe he c—."

"Hold your horses," she says, putting up an index finger.

I lean in toward the counter to see if I've interrupted a call. I haven't, but she's doing quite a bit of typing with the arrow keys. I wait until she finishes and repeat myself. She gives vague directions, but more importantly, permission to proceed into the treatment area.

Nehemiah takes the lead through the double doors and down the hall. He walks with confidence, despite turning to look in every room we pass. The department is not vast, so I do not mind. It's best Andreas sees him first.

I glimpse the profile of a smile as he stops in a doorway. I hold up a finger as he turns to me. I lip, "bathroom," and gesture for him to go on without me. He rushes into the room, I
standby to listen.

"Damn, is everything good with you?" he asks. There's no verbal reply, but I hear stretching sounds associated with hugging. "How long do they have you waiting?"