* * *

Time is ceasing to have any meaning within these four walls.

I make love with Tobias in the cool dark, looking deeper than I have before and finding so much untapped strength and vulnerability inside of him. So much that he’s willing to explore with me over time. I look him in the eye as he moves on top of me, showing him how much I like who he is. Who he’ll become. Who we are together, within the circle of four. It’s a shattering experience that leaves us both shaking and gasping, holding on to one another’s hands. The hours together deplete us and we drop into a deep sleep.

I could never have expected to wake up and find that everything has turned to shit.

It’s late that afternoon after yet another shower and I’m staring down at my email inbox in disbelief, rereading the message from Karina for the third time, positive I made a mistake or looking for some winking emoji to tell me she’s joking. There’s nothing to reassure me, though, just those same damning lines in the body of the email.

Elise,

The timing of this isn’t ideal, but I’m hoping you’ll see this as a bright spot of sun in the middle of a storm. You’re going to be published! I passed your piece on to the human-interest editor, Lisette, and she ate it up like chocolate gelato. Now for the amazing part—it’s going to run in tomorrow morning’s paper. The tram power outage is still fresh in everyone’s memory and she thinks that might lead to more shares of the online version. We’re going to make it anonymous, considering the private nature of the material, not to mention we’re trying to keep you less visible until we figure everything out with Alexander. Congratulations, nonetheless! You’re a writer. I’m not hiring you, so don’t get too excited. But you’re a writer. A good one.

Karina

I leave my laptop open on the bed beside a napping Tobias and pad to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water from the tap. I set it down without drinking, because my arm is too weak to lift the glass to my mouth. My article is going to be published.

My article is going to be published.

There might be a part of me that’s extremely proud of the accomplishment, but there is a far bigger part of me that’s reeling from shock and denial. I didn’t submit it to Karina to be published. I sent it to her for notes. A critique. A professional eye. I didn’t expect it to be good enough for publication—and I haven’t even told Tobias, Gabe and Banks about what I wrote.

Everything has changed since I sent that story to Karina.

When I think of the tone I used, so flippant, I full body cringe. These men are layered and complicated and I reduced them to surface level descriptions that I would never use now that I’ve…bonded with them. In a way that feels almost spiritual. I’m in love with them.