The Billionaire Throuple

Andreas Santiago

[Three weeks later]

I'm blindfolded, a little tipsy from throwing back a half a bottle of Sammy-three's bazillion year old wine and I have to admit I'm really nervous. I'm also really happy.

I'm sitting in the back of a Royal Blue Bentley where the backseats face each other. It's the newest addition to Sammy-three's fleet, replacing the G-Wagon Nemo totaled and it's dedicated to us. The color represents Nemo starting with the Royal Knights again as corner back, the Hollywood starred interior represents me because I'm Instagram famous and the seating represents Sammy-three for bringing and keeping us together.

They're sitting across from me and even though I can't see them, I know they're smiling. I can hear their laughs and piss poor whispering. I'm smiling too, because everything has been wonderful between us.

I never thought someone could love two people as equally and as passionately as Sammy-three has. He doesn't just want to be with us. He wants to help me heal and he wants to help us grow. He never gets jealous and he's never controlling, even when I test the limits to see if it's all an act.

He doesn't want anything from us, except for one thing. Each other, nothing else. What fucking planet is he from? The little shit is crazy, but I love him. Even though I'm not allowed to tell him.

Two things are on the agenda tonight, each boyfriend is responsible for one and both are why I'm dying of nerves over here. Sammy-three's has to do with healing and as well-intended as it might be, I'm worried I'm going to hate it. That's why I'm drunk and blindfolded.

After I wreck his shit and forgive him for whatever he has planned, we'll drop in all 'surprise, we're a throuple' on Momma Nemo. Not right away, but Nemo thinks the news will go over better after dinner, after she's fallen in love with us.

No one can tells us how to break the news. There's no blueprint, no Disney movie to refer to. We roll the dice and that's it; badda-bing or fuck you seven. Since they're both in the know about the trauma with my uncle, we're arriving under the guise of Sammy-three being my support, which is true, but obviously not the entire truth. But first, the surprise healing.

Sammy-three's driver stops the car. Nemo and Sammy-three get out first. They each take one of my arms to help me walk and now it's real, no backing down. I step out onto gravel first. I can tell by how the loose rocks shift under my feet and the crunching sound whenever we take a step.

"You've any idea where we are?" Sammy-three shushes me before I can answer. "Even if you've an idea, trust me, it's not what you're expecting. Suspend judgment until you've had time to take everything in, alright?"

I nod, but I don't like his disclaimer. He's practically admitting to doing something he knows is going to piss me off. Playing with a person's trauma is like tossing a cigarette into a forest. They're catalysts to violent destruction, infamous for spiraling out of control.

The crunching stops and mushing replaces it. We're on snow now. I could guess where we're going, but I think I'll be happier oblivious. I'm trying my best to block it out of my mind by listing the IG accounts I follow in my head, but I already feel tightness in the pit of my stomach.

My chest was tight before we ever hopped into the Bentley. Okay, @aoc, @beyonce, @champagnepapi, @ddlovato. I only follow one celebrity for each letter of the alphabet. Fun fact, I don't follow Kim K. even though I love her because @kevinhart4real is the funniest man on Earth.

Nemo and Sammy-three stop and take my hands into theirs. Nemo whispers to him in a serious, almost frantic voice. I know right? Suddenly, he can whisper. It's freaking me out because it means he isn't in on the surprise.