Chapter 76

The door clicks shut behind Celeste with a soft finality that feels louder than it should.

She stops just inside the entryway.

Naomi’s house is calm—too calm. The lights are low, warm. The air smells faintly like citrus and polished wood. Everything is exactly as Celeste remembers it… and somehow completely different.

Rowan and Naomi are sitting on the couch.

Not touching.
Not distant either.

Aligned.

Celeste’s chest tightens.

Naomi looks up first. Her expression is steady, unreadable—not cold, not warm. Just present.

Rowan doesn’t rush to fill the silence. She doesn’t stand. She doesn’t smile.

That alone tells Celeste everything.

“Hey,” Celeste says carefully, voice softer than usual. “I—”

“No,” Naomi says gently.

Just one word. Calm. Firm.

Celeste freezes.

Naomi sets her glass down on the table, deliberate. She gestures toward the chair across from them.
“Sit,” she says. “Please.”

Celeste hesitates. Her instinct is to explain, to soften, to charm her way back into control.

Instead, she sits.

The distance feels intentional.

Rowan finally speaks, her voice quiet but clear. “We’re not here to fight.”

Celeste nods quickly. “Good. Because I don’t want—”

Naomi lifts a hand. Not angry. Not sharp. Just final.

“You don’t get to steer this right now,” Naomi says. “You’ve been driving long enough.”

That lands.

Celeste swallows, her hands clasping together in her lap. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Then tell me what you need.”

Naomi leans forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees. Her gaze doesn’t waver.

“We’re not asking you to choose,” Naomi says evenly.

Celeste blinks.

Rowan’s eyes flick to Naomi, then back to Celeste.

Naomi continues, voice steady but unmistakably firm.
“We’re asking you to tell us what you want. Not what feels safest. Not what avoids fallout. What you actually want.”

Celeste opens her mouth, then closes it.

Naomi tilts her head slightly. “And if you can’t do that freely,” she adds, “then we need to know whether we should be asking you specific questions.”

The air shifts.

Rowan leans forward now, forearms on her knees. “Because right now,” she says quietly, “everything feels like guessing. And I don’t want to build anything on half-answers.”

Celeste exhales, sharp and shaky. “I wasn’t trying to protect myself,” she says. “I was trying to protect both of you.”

Rowan shakes her head gently. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle.”

Naomi nods. “Intent doesn’t erase impact.”

Celeste’s jaw tightens. “I love you,” she says to Naomi. “That’s not a lie.”

“I know,” Naomi replies softly. “But love without honesty still hurts.”

Rowan adds, not unkindly, “And loving me means trusting me with the truth—even if it’s messy.”

Celeste looks between them. For the first time since she walked in, she realizes something fundamental has changed.

They’re not waiting on her.

They’re holding space.

“What if I don’t have a clean answer?” Celeste asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Naomi’s expression softens—but she doesn’t move closer.

“Then say that,” Naomi says. “Say you’re unsure. Say you’re scared. Say you want time. Just don’t lie to keep the peace.”

Rowan nods. “Because silence feels like a decision too.”

Celeste presses her lips together, emotion flashing across her face—fear, guilt, longing, all tangled together.

“I’m scared,” she admits finally. “I don’t want to lose anyone.”

Naomi exhales slowly. “Right now, you’re risking that by not being honest.”

Silence stretches. No one rushes to fill it.

Naomi and Rowan speak at the same time.

“Do you want me?”

The words collide in the air, identical, unplanned, unavoidable.

Celeste’s head snaps up. Her breath catches. She looks from Naomi to Rowan, back again, heart hammering so hard it feels audible.

“Yes,” she says, too fast.

Naomi doesn’t soften. She doesn’t smile. She leans back slightly, eyes narrowing—not cruel, just sharp.
“Who was that answer to?” she asks. “Me, or Rowan?”

Celeste swallows. Her voice drops. “Both.”

The room tightens.

Rowan straightens, her calm finally cracking at the edges. “No,” she says quietly. “That’s not how this works anymore.”

Naomi nods once. “You don’t get to split the truth now.”

Celeste’s hands clench together in her lap. “I’m not trying to—”

“Choose,” Rowan says, firm now.

Naomi leans forward. “Yeah. Choose.”

Celeste’s breathing quickens. “I can’t.”

Naomi’s jaw tightens. “Why not?”

Rowan echoes it immediately, gentler but just as pointed. “Yeah, Celeste. Why not?”

Celeste opens her mouth, closes it. Her eyes dart between them, panic flashing across her face. “Because no matter what I say, someone loses.”

Naomi’s composure finally cracks.

“Just say it,” she snaps. “Damn. It’s not that fucking hard to answer the fucking question.”

The room goes still.

Celeste stares at her, stunned. She’s never seen Naomi like this—voice raised, edges sharp, restraint gone. It rattles her more than the words themselves.

Rowan moves without thinking. She places a steady hand on Naomi’s thigh, grounding, firm but gentle. “Hey,” she murmurs. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

Naomi exhales hard through her nose, shoulders tense, but she doesn’t pull away.

Celeste looks between them, confusion mixing with the fear. “What… what was that?”

Rowan turns to her, expression unreadable now. “No,” she says. “Answer the question.”

She glances at Naomi, then back at Celeste. “At this point, you’ve got about three seconds before I let Naomi chew you out completely. And we’ve literally been drinking all day.” A faint, dangerous smile flickers. “She does not have a filter right now.”

Celeste’s throat tightens. She says nothing.

Rowan looks at Naomi then, leans in close enough that her voice drops to a whisper meant only for her.

“Go ahead,” Rowan murmurs. “Let me see how sexy you look when you’re mad.”

Naomi lets out a sharp, breathless laugh—half disbelief, half fire—eyes never leaving Celeste.

Naomi doesn’t hesitate.

She stands so fast the chair scrapes loudly against the floor, the sound sharp enough to make Celeste flinch.

“Pick,” Naomi snaps. “You need to fucking pick now.”

Celeste opens her mouth, but Naomi steamrolls straight through her.

“You’ve been playing both of us,” Naomi says, voice rising now, control completely gone. “And it’s ridiculous. You lied to Rowan to her face. You let me lie to her in the beginning when you knew damn well you should’ve said something. You’ve been controlling how all of this goes from the start—and look at it. It’s gone to shit.”

Celeste’s eyes glass over. She shakes her head weakly. “That’s not—”

“Yes it is,” Naomi fires back. “And don’t even try to soften it. Rowan and I feel like our feelings don’t matter at all, because apparently no one gets the full truth unless it’s dragged out of your mouth.”

Rowan stiffens beside her.

Naomi gestures between them. “You give half-information. You say ‘it doesn’t matter.’ And we’re just supposed to accept that? Fuck that. I’m tired of this. And honestly?” Her voice cracks—not into tears, but into rage. “I’m almost tired of you.”

That one lands.

Naomi turns briefly to Rowan, her expression softening for half a second—then she looks back at Celeste, fury blazing.

“Rowan is new,” Naomi says. “But I’ve known you for years. Years. And I’ve been so damn careful not to let my feelings get too involved when it came to us and our friendship.”

Her laugh is bitter. “But all it took was some tears and a fucking kiss to break my wall down.”

Celeste’s breath stutters.

“And then,” Naomi continues, voice shaking now, “in that same damn moment you tell me it didn’t mean anything to you. We go to sleep. We cuddle in the same bed. I wake up the next morning and tell you I want more—”

Her voice rises, sharp and raw.

“And you say I was ‘just there.’ That it was ‘only sex.’ Like my feelings were nothing.”

Rowan’s jaw tightens.

Naomi presses on, relentless. “Then you turn around and tell me I’m ‘wife material,’ but you’re glad we’re just friends. And then you go back to Rowan like everything’s fine, like nothing happened, and expect everyone to just… be okay with it.”

Her chest heaves.

“I want this,” Naomi says, pointing between all three of them. “But I want one hundred percent honesty. Not this bullshit.”

She stops talking abruptly.

The room is dead silent.

Naomi looks at Celeste—who looks like she might bolt at any second—then at Rowan, whose expression has hardened into something dangerous and protective.

Naomi lets out a shaky breath and laughs once, hollow.

“You know what?” she mutters. “Fuck you. And fuck this whole thing.”

She turns away, already walking. “I’ve worked too damn hard to not let anyone disturb my peace.”

Naomi doesn’t slow down—if anything, her voice sharpens as the words finally spill out.

“And honestly?” she adds, walking back toward Celeste, eyes blazing. “If it wasn’t for Rowan coming over last night, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now.”

Celeste stiffens.

“I would’ve been out of the country by now,” Naomi continues, jaw tight. “And you would’ve been blocked. For a while.” She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Matter of fact… I still might do that.”

Rowan’s grabs Naomi’s arm to stop her from walking towards Celeste.

Naomi gestures toward Rowan, her voice cracking for the first time—not into tears, but into something dangerously honest. “I’ve spent the last damn near thirty hours with her. Thirty hours.”

She shakes her head slowly. “And it’s been the most stress-free, peaceful time I’ve had in longer than I can remember.”

That hits hard.

“No confusion. No walking on eggshells. No guessing what’s real or what’s being left out,” Naomi says. “Just honesty. Just calm. Just being seen.”

She laughs again, quieter now, almost incredulous. “Do you know how fucked up it is that that didn’t come from the person I’ve known for years?”

Celeste looks like she wants to speak—but Naomi cuts her off with a raised hand.

“Don’t,” Naomi warns. “Not right now.”

She turns fully toward the hallway, already shaking her head. “I need a fucking minute before the old me comes out and I’m in jail for assault.”

She walks off.

The door shuts hard.

Rowan stays where she is for half a second longer, eyes never leaving Celeste.

“All you had to do,” Rowan says quietly, voice colder now, steadier, “was be honest. Just say you want both of us. That’s it.”

Celeste swallows.

“It’s not that hard,” Rowan finishes.

Then she stands and follows Naomi down the hall, leaving Celeste alone in the stillness—finally facing the truth she kept trying to control instead of claim.

Rowan knocks softly on the door, knuckles barely making a sound.
“It’s me,” she says gently.

No response.

She waits a beat, then slowly pushes the door open, peeking in first before stepping inside. Naomi is standing near the window, arms crossed, jaw tight—still buzzing with leftover adrenaline.

Rowan lifts both hands immediately, palms out, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. “Hey… future wife,” she says lightly, like she’s testing the air. “I come in peace.”

Naomi turns, and despite herself, a smile breaks through. Small. Unwanted. Real.
“I’m not supposed to be smiling right now,” she mutters. “I’m supposed to be serious. And mad.”

Rowan laughs softly, relief easing her shoulders. “I just needed to make sure the coast was clear,” she says, glancing back toward the hallway. “You kinda blew up back there.” She tilts her head, amused. “Sexy… but also a little scary.”

Naomi exhales, rubbing a hand down her face. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.” Her voice drops, honest. “It’s just… been pent up for years.”

Rowan’s expression softens immediately. She steps closer and opens her arms without a word.

“I can tell,” she says quietly.

Naomi doesn’t hesitate. She steps into the hug, resting her forehead against Rowan’s shoulder, arms wrapping tight like she didn’t realize how much she needed it. “I’m sorry you had to see and hear all of that,” she murmurs.

Rowan squeezes her back, steady and warm. “It’s okay,” she says. “I didn’t mind.” She pulls back just enough to look at her, a grin flickering. “Didn’t even know you had all that in you.”

Naomi huffs out a breathy laugh.

Rowan adds, teasing but sincere, “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Naomi shakes her head, still holding onto her. “Deal.”

Naomi exhales slowly, her grip loosening just a little, though she doesn’t pull away completely.

“I still need a minute,” she says quietly. “I don’t… I don’t want to look at her face right now.”

Rowan nods immediately, no questions, no pushback. “Okay,” she says softly. “What do you need from me?”

Naomi thinks for a beat, then shakes her head, a small, tired smile touching her lips. “This,” she says, gesturing between them. “This is enough. Thank you.”

Rowan’s hand gives her back one last reassuring squeeze. “I’ve got you,” she replies simply.

A few quiet minutes pass before Rowan finally lifts Naomi’s chin gently, her thumb brushing under it.

“You okay now?” Rowan asks softly. “You ready to go back out there?”

Naomi lets out a slow breath, then nods once. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Rowan laces their fingers together without ceremony and leads her back into the living room. Celeste is still standing near the couch, tense, like she hasn’t moved since Naomi walked away.

They sit.

The couch dips under their combined weight—aligned again, intentional.

Celeste’s eyes flick between them, uneasy. “Did… did something happen between you two?”

Naomi answers calmly, without heat. “Yeah. We kissed.”

Celeste’s breath catches. “You… you kissed?”

Both Naomi and Rowan say at the same time, flat and honest, “Yup.”

Silence stretches.

Naomi exhales slowly, the sharpness leaving her posture. When she speaks again, her voice is steady—still firm, but stripped of heat.

“Before anything else,” she says, looking directly at Celeste, “I need to say this.”

Celeste stills.

“I’m sorry for exploding earlier,” Naomi continues. “And I’m sorry for ignoring your texts and your calls.” She shakes her head once. “I know how you get when you sit alone too long. When your thoughts start running ahead of you. That wasn’t my intention. I wasn’t trying to punish you.”

Rowan shifts beside her, then speaks up, just as calm.

“And I’m sorry too,” Rowan adds. She looks at Celeste directly, no defensiveness in her tone. “For not pushing harder. For stepping back when I should’ve stepped in and asked you to be honest with me.”

Celeste’s breath catches.

Naomi nods, appreciating the solidarity, then continues. “We just needed you to feel—just a little—what it felt like for us. The waiting. The uncertainty. The not knowing where we stood.” Her voice softens. “But I should’ve said that instead of disappearing.”

Rowan leans forward slightly. “We’re not here to corner you,” she says. “We’re here because we care.”

Naomi looks at Celeste again. “So now we’re asking you—clearly. No games. No guessing.”

Rowan mirrors her, their alignment unmistakable.

“How do you truly feel?” Rowan asks gently.

Celeste swallows, her chest rising and falling fast. She looks from Rowan to Naomi, fear and longing written openly across her face.

“I want you,” Celeste says finally. “I want this.”

Naomi tilts her head slightly. “Who is that answer for?”

Celeste doesn’t hesitate this time. “Both of you.”

Rowan nods once, firm but calm. “Say it clearly.”

Celeste’s voice shakes, but she doesn’t look away. “I want both of you.”

Naomi exhales, relief flickering across her face before settling into resolve. “Good,” she says. “Because that’s what we needed.”

Rowan adds quietly, “We both want you. And we want to do this together.” She pauses, letting the words land. “But we needed you to say it out loud so we all had the same understanding.”

Naomi nods. “Now we’re on the same page.” A beat. “And now we can actually talk about next steps.”

Celeste’s shoulders drop, like she’s been holding herself together with tension alone. “I was scared saying it would make it real,” she admits.

Rowan offers a small, steady smile. “Real doesn’t mean reckless.”

Naomi meets Celeste’s eyes. “It just means honest.”

Celeste exhales, the weight finally cracking her voice.

“I felt like I couldn’t say I wanted both of you,” she admits quietly. “Because I thought you wouldn’t want the same thing. And that I’d lose one of you if I said it out loud.”

Naomi’s expression softens immediately. She steps closer—not crowding, just present.

“Listen to me,” Naomi says gently. “You should never fear losing me. We’ve been friends for too long. You know I always come back after I find my peace. Always.”

Celeste’s eyes flicker.

“And the way Rowan has been searching for answers,” Naomi continues, glancing at her, “the way she came to me instead of walking away—that tells me she isn’t going anywhere either.”

Rowan nods once, steady.

Naomi takes a breath. “So can you promise us something?” she asks. “I know this won’t happen overnight. But can we all just be honest—from this point forward—about what we want and what we need?”

She pauses. “If we can agree on that, I’m willing to start fresh. A clean slate. The three of us. Moving forward.”

Rowan answers immediately. “Yes. Definitely.”

Celeste nods, emotion thick in her throat. “Yes. I can do that.”

She swallows hard, then turns fully toward Rowan. “I’m sorry for making so much of this confusing. And for not being honest—with myself, and with you.” Her voice trembles. “I’m truly sorry for not telling you what happened between me and Naomi.”

Rowan doesn’t interrupt.

“I lied out of fear,” Celeste continues. “Fear of losing you. And I’m so sorry for that. You deserved the truth. And I took that away from you by downplaying it—by making it seem like what you were seeing and feeling wasn’t real.”

Rowan exhales slowly, then steps forward and places a soft, brief kiss on Celeste’s lips.

“Thank you,” Rowan says quietly. “I forgive you. That’s all I needed.”

Celeste’s breath shakes as she turns to Naomi now.

“And you…” she begins. “I know your hurt comes from years of watching me be with other people. Of always having to put me back together.” Her eyes glisten. “I’m sorry for dismissing your feelings. And for treating our intimacy like you were ‘just there.’ That was wrong. And it wasn’t the truth.”

Naomi stays still, listening.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” Celeste admits. “And I’m sorry for stringing you along. For not facing those feelings sooner—especially when you asked. When you told me how you felt.” Her voice breaks. “I’m truly sorry.”

Naomi lets out a long breath, fanning herself lightly like she’s trying not to cry. “It’s the alcohol,” she mutters, half-laughing, half-breaking.

Then she looks up at Celeste. “Thank you,” she says softly. “I’ve been waiting a long time to hear that from your mouth. That’s all I needed.”

She moves first—closing the distance—and Rowan follows without hesitation. They climb onto Celeste in an uncoordinated, warm tangle of arms and laughter and relief.

A group hug. Tight. Real.

Celeste wraps her arms around both of them, holding on like she means it. “I love you both,” she says. “And I promise to do better from here on out.”

Naomi and Rowan speak together, voices overlapping, certain.

“Same here.”

“And we love you too.”

The moment doesn’t fix everything—but it finally gives them a place to stand.

Together.