Chapter 120: What is one thing you have always wanted?

Violet

I was relieved when my mother finally agreed to see a professional. I had been begging her to take that step since the day after my father’s funeral. Begging, bribing, threatening, pleading, I had tried everything I could think of, but nothing worked. And I knew she had heard the same advice before. The professor was not the first man in her life to suggest therapy. He was just the first one she actually listened to.

I would have thanked him for convincing her, if I did not still wonder whether he had something to do with my father’s death.

Even so, I wanted this to help her. Maybe therapy could ease her grief, and maybe it could mend the cracks between us too. She was the only family I had left, and I was desperate to hold on to her.

Once the dishes were done, the three of us climbed the stairs together. I turned toward my room, but Richard caught my hand and pulled me against him.

“Where are you going?” His voice had a rough edge.

“To bed,” I said with wide, innocent eyes. “To sleep.”

He smacked my backside, making me squeak. “Why would you want to sleep in your room when you could be in mine?”

I wriggled in his arms, teasing. “Or I could stay in Michael’s room.”

“That sounds perfect to me,” Michael called from behind him.

Richard did not even hesitate. He scooped me up and carried me toward his room. “No chance. It is my turn. Besides, my room is cleaner than his.”

“I do like clean things,” I said with a slow smile, looping my arms around his neck. “But what about my pajamas?”

“Simple. Do not wear any,” Richard replied.

I laughed. “You really do have an answer for everything. What about Michael? Are you going to let him stay with us too?”

“Absolutely not,” Richard said, holding me tighter.

I pouted. “Then I am not staying with you either.”

“But sweetheart…”

“No. Michael never minded sharing his bed.”

“She is right,” Michael called from the hallway. “Do you see how selfish he is, Princess?”

“I am not selfish!” Richard grumbled, then sighed as if he was carrying the weight of the world. “Fine. Michael can join us.”

My pout vanished into a smile. I kissed the little dip in his chin. “That is better. Sharing is caring.”

Richard rolled his eyes but tossed me onto the bed. I sat cross-legged and watched with satisfaction as he carefully unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it in the hamper. Michael, in contrast, yanked his off and flung it into the corner before reaching for his trousers.

They had not been joking about sleeping naked. It was not even bedtime, but I quickly peeled off my own clothes and slipped under the sheets. Richard’s Egyptian cotton bedding felt cool and soft against my skin. Richard slid in on one side of me, warm and solid, while Michael stretched out on the other, his chest impossibly smooth.

I pressed my cheek against Michael’s chest. “Michael?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you wax?”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating under my cheek. “Why? Do you like it?”

“It feels nice,” I admitted, tilting my head to look up at him. “But do you?”

“Nope,” he said with a grin.

“So you are just naturally like this?”

Richard answered for him, amused. “Not exactly. Tell her, Michael.”

Michael let out a dramatic sigh. “I had electrolysis.”

My eyes widened. “On your whole body?”

“Everywhere,” he said, dragging out the word.

“Even… down there?”

“Everywhere,” he repeated, popping the P.

I stared at him. “How long did that take?”

“Almost two years.”

“Wow.” I giggled, then turned toward Richard. “And you? You never wanted to be smooth like him?”

Richard ran a hand across his chest. “I prefer to stay natural.”

“Same here,” I said, stretching my legs out so that one rested over his. “I tried shaving once, and it was a nightmare. Razor burn, the itching, and then the hair growing back like little needles. There are places where stubble should never exist.”

Michael burst out laughing and slid his hand along my thigh until it cupped me, unbothered and confident. “You are perfect exactly as you are.”

A low sound of agreement left my throat. “Still, I cannot help but feel a bit jealous. Your electrolysis lady got to spend two whole years with you, seeing every inch of you up close.”

“You do not need to be jealous,” Richard said quickly. “Claude has been in a committed relationship for years.”

My eyes flew wide. “Claude?”

“Yep,” Michael said, grinning.

“Wow,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Michael’s hand started moving with slow, deliberate pressure, making it harder to keep a straight thought, while Richard’s fingers circled lazily over my chest, each touch pulling me in a different direction. My body was getting distracted, but Richard’s voice suddenly dropped into something more serious.

“Tell me, Violet,” he asked, “what is one thing you have always wanted?”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“One thing you have longed for,” he clarified. “Something you could never quite have.”

My thoughts spun at the weight of the question. There were too many answers, too many aches I had learned to bury. I wanted my father back, but that would never happen. I wanted my mother to finally act like the parent she should have been. I wanted stability, a place I could call my own. Not another borrowed guest room, not a house that disappeared as soon as her newest romance ended. A real home, one I could paint in my colours, hang my photos in, fill with plants and trees. But saying that out loud felt like pulling the skin off my heart.

So I went with something safer. “A pet,” I admitted after a pause. “I have always wanted one. My dad was allergic, so it was never possible when he was alive. And after that, we moved too often. I think a cat would be amazing. Maybe even a dog, but most apartments would not allow it.”

“Dogs are the best!” Michael said without hesitation. “I always wanted a huge one. A German shepherd.”

“I prefer cats,” Richard replied. “Dogs take too much work. A cat is independent. Feed him, clean his litter, and he will own the place like a king.”

Their easy banter made me smile. The rivalry between them was playful, never cruel, and beneath it I knew they would defend each other no matter what.

They had already moved past my answer, forgetting they had even asked me, but I did not mind. The question itself felt too heavy. Better to leave my real desires unspoken.

It was a silly question anyway.

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