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Theo smiles. Ezra smiles wider. They attack. Water flies everywhere. I shriek and retaliate. Theo blocks most of my splashes with one arm while Ezra circles behind me. I turn too slowly and get a wave of cold water down my back.

“Traitor.”

“Strategist.”

I grab Ezra and pull him close enough to kiss. Theo comes up behind me, arms closing around both of us. We bob together in the spring. The new bond flows quietly beneath my ribs, full of their joy and mine.

Eventually, the splashing slows. We move into deeper water. Theo supports my injured ankle until floating takes the weight from it.

Ezra takes my other hand. Theo takes his. The three of us drift onto our backs, hand in hand. The sky spreads above us, crowded with stars. For a while, no one speaks.

Then Ezra says, “The art show needs a name.”

“Tomorrow problem,” Theo says.

“I want a bigger upstairs sink,” I add.

“Why?” Ezra asks.

“No field samples in the bathroom,” Theo says.

“Then I need a lab.”

“You can have the greenhouse room.”

“It needs shelves,” I say.

“I’ll build them.”

Ezra turns his face toward us. “I want a wall long enough for one enormous painting.”

“Studio addition,” Theo says.

“And better lighting.”

“Put it on the list.”

I smile at the stars. “I want more motorcycle rides.”

Theo squeezes my hand. “I want helmet hair coffee dates.”

Ezra squeezes the other. “I want to design seasonal helmet stickers.”

“I want ordinary dinners,” I say.

“Thinking snacks,” Ezra adds.

“Pepper in my lap,” Theo says.

“That was implied,” I say.

“I want to hear it.”

I turn my face toward him. “We have a very long future of lap cuddles.”

“Good.”

Ezra hums. “I want all of it.”