I was literally near tears when I texted the news to them.

It took nearly an hour on the phone listening to Darren’s deep, soothing voice to calm me down. They let me watch them make love until I fell asleep. I had great dreams that night.

I’d assumed would be as simple as just shifting our date from one weekend to the next. I was so naïve.

It takes nearly twenty minutes for Nadia and Darren’s calendars to download into mine.

The stress I felt when we decided to link our calendars is like child’s play compared to how I feel when it’s actually done. There’s so much there that I freak out for a bit and uncheck their calendars just so I can see my own schedule, light as it is.

“How the fuck do you two have this much to do?” I gasp.

“The twins,” they say at the same time.

“We actually have very boring lives and very little to do,” Darren says almost proudly.

“The boys, however, have places to be, especially during basketball season,” Nadia adds wearily. I see her take a sip of wine and shake her head.

They’re in the lounge in their house, and they look cute, all cuddled up together. I’m in my room, sitting on the edge of my bed, while a couple of my roommates hold a very loud Pictionary party with their weird coworkers from the theater where they work. I wish I was with Nadia and Darren, but the boys are having a sleepover. I can hear them and some of their friends yelling while they’re playing video games in the living room. Nadia looks tired. I want to hold her. And kiss her. And sip the wine from her lips.

I also want her and Darren to rail the fucking shit out of me, hence the very serious calendar sharing. We need to find a time for us to have sex. Together. All of us. Naked. And soon.

“Oh my God, I’m never going to get fucked,” I mumble, scrolling through the next four months of their calendar. There’s something every day — every hour of every day, I swear.

“Don’t say that,” Nadia says. “Don’t even put that out into the universe.”

I feel hopeless.

“We’ll figure it out. There has to be a day.” She sounds as terrified as I feel.

I hear the desperation in her voice, and it so clearly mimics my own that I stop staring at the calendar and watch her. Mistake. Nadia is scrolling through her calendar, looking more confused and then desperate by the moment. “My God,” I mumble.

Nadia looks at the screen, and we lock eyes through our laptop webcams. I think I’m going to cry. My pussy might weep, but not in the good way.