Chapter 6. Three Musketeers & a Push-Mobil

“So... you three were in the habit of sharing your women.” Myla blurted out before she could stop herself. “And what am I? Chopped liver?”

Those were the first words she said to them immediately after they stepped into her room this morning. The doctor had kept her for observation, worried about her slurred speech and the large bump on her head. Myla hadn't seen them since the nurses chased them away late last night after visiting hours.

Myla started laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath at the pure shock plastered across their faces. “Oh my God, you should see your faces,” she managed through gasps of laughter. “I’m so glad the painkillers have finally kicked in, or I’d be in agony right now. Whew! Your faces, man.”

Suddenly, Myla sat up in bed, and her voice hardened, the laughter vanishing. “I would no longer let you shut me out again. I’ve tried to respect your boundaries, tried to understand how you felt after the surgeries, but I’m your wif