I go to get up and Joey grabs my wrist, tugging me down. We share a teasing look.

“Kidding, they’re closed, obviously, but seriously, how great am I doing with my spending? My bank account is looking awesome lately. Give me a few weeks, and I should be out of here.”

Getting evicted from my apartment two months ago was probably the lowest moment in my life. Well, that and the cum-shot gone wrong in New Orleans.

I swear my eye twitches occasionally because of that mishap.

After I found the notice taped to my door, I flipped off my landlord and weighed my options.

My overbearing parents—God, no, I’d rather get my teeth drilled, or Juls.

I love my sister, I do, but I can’t live with her. Besides, her and Ian are in tiny-tot land. She’s popping out a kid every nine months it seems. They need their family space. I need to not have to explain to my four year old nephew why Aunt Brooke has things that vibrate in her bedroom.

My landlord gave me one week to get out. I thought I was screwed. I was ready to deal with the ramifications of living under my father’s roof again. I’m sure he would’ve tried to tag me with a curfew, even though I’m twenty-five, haven’t had a curfew since I was seventeen, and mastered the art of sneaking through my bedroom window when I used to live there. However, these two amazing men saved the day and offered me a place to crash. The three of us have gotten close since I started working at the bakery, me and Joey especially.

Who would’ve thought me and Joey would become besties? I hated that bitch growing up.

Billy hands me a daiquiri. His eyes, warm and kind, stay glued to mine as he moves to his seat. “You know we don’t mind you living here, right? We’re not kicking you out, Brooke. There’s no rush.”

“Ha!” Joey smirks, his eyebrow arching playfully as he settles against Billy’s side. “No, we’re not, but I would like to fuck loud eventually. I’m all for you kicking your shopping addiction if it means we can go back to trying to break the sound barrier.”

I swallow my mouthful of daiquiri quickly before I spit it out. A quick chill runs through me. “Please. I have to wear those giant noise-canceling headphones when you two go at it, and I can still hear you begging, Joey. You don’t know how to be quiet.”

“Oh, and you do?” Joey rolls his eyes, lifting his own glass. “You’re loud even by yourself, Brooke.”

“It’s not my fault I’m amazing. Ask Paul. He can confirm that.”

Billy grabs the remote, a tense wave passing over his features. “Can we start up the movie and get off this topic? I had no idea you could hear us.”

“Everyone can hear you.” I point at the wall behind me when he turns his head and eyes me cautiously. “Mrs. Kessler caught me in the elevator last week and asked me if you two were remodeling in here. Something about you yelling ‘give me a hammer.’ You should’ve seen her face when I told her you were actually saying hummer.”

Billy closes his eyes, groaning. “Jesus Christ.”

“No wonder that old bitch has been giving me strange looks lately.” Joey waves a dismissive hand in front of his face. He shifts about on the couch. “Fuck her and her moss covered vagina. My sex life is fantastic, and I don’t care if the entire state hears my baby asking me to suck him off. We quiet down for no one.”

I pull my glass away from my lips, laughing as Billy rakes a hand down his face, noticeably uncomfortable.

He’s so different from Joey. The complete opposite, actually, but they complement each other perfectly.

Especially in the bedroom. I hear a lot.

“I told you both I would only stay here until I had enough money saved up to move out. I love you guys, but I need to get my own place again. Our combined hair-care products are overtaking the condo.” I cock my head with a pout, shifting my gaze between them. “But I will miss the sleepovers. You’re such a sweet little spoon, Billy. All soft and cuddly.”

He frowns. “There’s nothing about me that’s little, Brooke. Or soft,” he pauses, grinning. “Haven’t you heard?”

Warmth floods my cheeks.

Sweet Lord. Did Billy just insinuate . . .

“No, there is definitely not,” Joey proudly affirms, cutting into my thoughts of R-rated antonyms. He squeezes Billy’s thigh. “Was that a hard ‘no’ on the dick jewelry? Any wiggle room on that?”

The movie begins playing. Apparently, Billy’s answer was final.

Joey’s lips brush against my hair as I swallow another mouthful of my daiquiri. “How was it with the piercing? Honestly,” he whispers.

Typical Joey. Needing to know all the tricks of the trade. I am shocked he hasn’t been down this road himself, though.

“The one spot that’s hard for some guys to hit,” I begin softly, bending my finger in a rhythmic motion. Our eyes lock. “He didn’t have any problem.”

Joey slowly leans back. “Damn it. Am I seriously missing out?”

“Shh.”

We both glance at Billy, then resume whispering closely.

“I know for a fact he hits all your spots just fine. As do the neighbors across the street.”

“True. But I love trying new things with him. Maybe I could get it done.” Joey looks down at his lap, the corner of his mouth pulling tight. “That shit could go south, though. Really fuck up my perfect form. Not to mention it probably hurts like a motherfucker.”

I press my lips to the edge of my glass, murmuring my next words when Billy tilts his head down and glares in my direction. “Want me to call Paul and ask? He’s probably staring at his phone expectantly.”

Joey smiles. “He loved you, Brooke. How could you walk out on what you two shared?”

Oh, my God.

“Please.”

“I’m sure he was seconds away from proposing. Or at least suggesting you move in with him.”

I shake my head. “He was oddly fascinated with his own semen. That living arrangement would never work.”

Seriously. Did he even flush that condom? Is there a chance he set it aside to frame it instead?

Gross, Paul. You’ll never get a girl to stay that way.

Joey bumps his shoulder against mine, pressing his weight into me. “That’s kind of hot, actually. But . . . okay, I have to know. Was it a barbell? Or one of those stud things? Oo! Did he have it going down the shaft?”

The noise from the TV abruptly cuts off. Silence fills the condo.

Billy leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, the look he reserves for moments when Joey and I go off on dick tangents at the dinner table ghosting across his face.

I clear my throat, lowering my glass. “Hi, hey there, little spoon. Sorry, we’ll be quiet.”

His eyes, steady with doubt, shift to Joey and soften marginally.

There it is. Sweet Billy. No one else looks at Joey like that.

Mindful to the fact that the only way to keep his husband on the couch with us and not locked in his office, going over documents that can surely wait until tomorrow is to shut up and watch the movie, Joey slides over and plucks the remote out of Billy’s hand.

The movie resumes playing.

I tuck my knees against my chest as the two men at the other end of the couch dissolve into each other, recommencing the intimate embrace they always share. The closeness that stills the two of them, even Joey, who is nearly impossible to silence.