Chapter 1: Meet the Loves
Isn’t life beautiful? I’m so happy to be alive. I have a great career, a wonderful husband, and an awesome family. I couldn’t ask for more. My name is Ryan Sapphire Love and I have three great sisters of which I make up one third of a triplet. There’s the oldest by eight minutes: Randi Diamond Love, our middle triplet sister: Reagan Pearl Love who is three minutes older than me, and finally little old me plucked from the womb afterwards. Our youngest sister who is spoiled rotten is: Robi Gemma Love, born five years after us.
If you haven’t noticed, our parents had conflicting ideas when it came to naming us. Our father wanted at least one son while our mother was overjoyed that she had four mini replicas. Daddy gave us our first names but made sure to keep it as gender neutral as possible. He had us playing sports and practicing jujitsu since we could walk while our mother made us attend tea parties and jazz dance lessons. Despite their conflicting ideals, we had a great childhood. My sisters and I get along fabulously. Our family is very close knit. We come from very old money on both of our parents’ side of the family, but our parents instilled in us values. They raised us to understand that life doesn’t give you handouts, and although they were rich, it didn’t mean that we also were rich.
We learned our lessons quickly, even Robi who was the spoiled baby. My sisters and I run a very successful and profitable business together called Love’s Jewels. It’s a company focused solely on helping others find love through various outlets. We decided with the name because ever since we were young, we’ve been known as the Jewel Sisters due to our middle names, and of course our last name is…well…Love. I’m the hopeless romantic and the designated matchmaker of our company. I have a ninety-nine point five success rate…even I can make mistakes from time to time. Randi is our event planner because she is the party animal. If there will be music and dancing, this woman will jump out of her bed to attend. Like our mother, she is a social butterfly and loves the attention.
Reagan is the straitlaced type, she thinks more with her head than her heart and is very logical…maybe too much so. Because of her great eye for detail and organization, she is our company’s travel planner. She can book a vacation or a romantic getaway in a heartbeat. Robi, also like our mother, has a deep love for music and is therefore our company’s entertainment. She always has a new and upcoming band she wants to introduce to the world, and if she can’t find one, she becomes the musician herself. She plays about four different instruments: piano, violin, guitar, and the harp. Any instrument she touches just falls under her spell.
So you can see how we Jewel Sisters have put our heads together to get that paper! Out of the four of us, I’m happily married and have been since I graduated college. My husband’s name is Michael Evans. He’s an investment banker and works with high profile clients. He is often gone on business trips or tends to stay late at the office, but when he’s home, he is a very attentive husband. We’ve been married going on six years and in fact, it will be our wedding anniversary in a month. Although we’ve been married for six years, we never really wanted kids so early in our marriage, but we have a beautiful daughter named Misty. She will be two in six months, but that’s enough about me.
Ironically, Reagan is engaged to be married in spite of her logical viewpoint on life and love. Her fiancé, Stephen, is her male twin. They think exactly alike, act just a like, and even talk alike…like two identical robots. Their kissing probably sounds like grinding gears. Let’s not even imagine their sex life. I’ll be surprised if they have a sex life. They probably have to coordinate their schedules and also arrange who does what positions…if they did positions. Stephen’s butt looks so tight and strict that he probably thinks that the missionary position is all there is. But, you know, it works for them…we think it won’t last though. Don’t think ill of me, but I personally hope Reagan wakes up one day and gets some spice in her life.
In fact, Michael’s best friend Tyler would do her some good. Just envision his beauty: six foot five, ex-semi pro linebacker turned pediatrician, thick muscles, delicious chocolate skin, gorgeous gap-toothed smile and a single dimple in his left cheek. Not to mention his voice so deep like molasses you can drown in it. I can picture him just turning her out. He is an adventurer, loves to travel, loves to try new cuisine and live life. And he is bald headed. Bald headed men are some of the most intense lovers and companions any woman could ask for. Plus, he has a pair of innocent hazel brown eyes which greatly contrasts with his smoldering sexiness. Ouch! Reagan needs a large helping of Tyler Monroe. Okay? Okay.
Randi, in spite of her busy social schedule, is dating a great guy named Miguel Santos. He is a Latin musician who tours three times a year. He’s so successful that other musicians will come to him for collaborations. Robi introduced them two years ago and it’s been love at first sight. They dated for about four months before finally moving in together. Momma always told us a man is not going to buy the cow when he can get the milk for free. It was her code message for no shacking up. Randi just does what she wants though, but there is no doubt in my mind that Miguel is not going to let her slip through his fingers. Actually, he had proposed on their second date which had sent her running for the hills. I guess them living together is his way of slowly getting her used to the idea of being his wife.
Then there is Robi who is surprisingly still single. She’s only twenty-three so she has time to play and focus on her work. She wants to start dabbling in composing and we’ve been encouraging her, but she is her own worst critic sometimes. I guess we all are. And although we’re all different, we each bring something to the table which makes us one whole.
So, I told you that I’m a part of a triplet. Here is a fun fact if you didn’t know; it’s actually more difficult to have identical triplets than fraternal triplets. With that being said, Randi and I are more like twins than triplets, our mother was supposed to have twins until one of her eggs decided to split which resulted in triplets. So, I guess it would have been Randi and Reagan or me—Ryan—and Reagan. Because Randi and I are identical, it is difficult to tell us apart unless you can pay attention to detail. The sole difference between the two of us is a single beauty mark. I have a beauty mark in the miniature shape of Africa, I kid you not, on the top of my right shoulder. Randi’s beauty mark is on her left booty cheek.
Then how, pray tell, did our parents know who was who when we were growing up? Fun fact, they didn’t…unless they saw us naked or we wore spaghetti straps, tank tops, off the shoulder tops…I guess if they had just focused on dressing us differently they could have saved themselves a lot of headaches. Randi and I were very mischievous as children. Poor Reagan was left holding the bag sometimes. It’s crazy, the order of our “birth”— it was caesarean by the way—because I always feel as if I should have been the middle triplet and Reagan the last, since Randi and I are identical.
It often confused our teachers in school to know that I was the “baby” of us three, but you don’t get to choose when the doctors pull you out the womb. Although Reagan is sort of the odd woman out in our trio, we still got her into a lot of trouble with us. She had to participate in our wild shenanigans. It would have helped her greatly if she had been identical too. We could have helped her skip so many classes and sneak out all the time. They wouldn’t have known any better. Plus, in school, her strengths of course dealt with science and mathematics. My strength, because of my love for well…love, was languages. I’m fluent in French, Spanish, Italian, Greek, and I’m currently teaching myself German and Portuguese. Randi’s strengths were athletics and dance. We often switched places during exams and tests because we wanted to have great records. Reagan was often our science and math tutor, but we made it work as usual.
Now as adults, although we can’t change the fact that we are identical, Randi and I have somewhat distinguishing looks when it comes to style. We will always be five foot eight inches. We will always have the same hazel green eyes and cupid bows lips. We will always have the same heart shaped hairline and sienna cinnamon skin (which we actually share with Reagan). And of course, even our body type will remain identical: slender, size four athletic build, perky B-cup tits, and a plump apple bottom with curves for miles. We do have similar styles of dress. We both love dresses and leggings/yoga pants and wearing heels, but Randi also loves skirts. It’s weird because I’ll wear dressings until the cows come home, but I will not wear a skirt.
Dresses or yoga pants and leggings. Me all day every day. So, there is one way to tell us a part. And although we both have long, curly hair, Randi has honey blond high lights and often wears her hair in a stylish updo where as my hair is normally falling into my face and blocking my vision. I prefer to have it down because I’m cold natured and even the smallest gust of wind will set me to shaking from head to toe. I do jazz it up a bit and wear braided styles, but Randi is more adventurous with her hair because she will straighten it, color it, and who knows what as long as it stays long. I love my long hair too.
Reagan keeps everything simple. Her curly hair stays straightened and in a perpetual bun. Where Randi and I will explore colors, she likes neutral tones that do nothing for her chocolate eyes and flawless skin. Where we’re athletic—or what the kids like to call slim-thick, Reagan has the body of a woman, thick thighs and a tiny waist with C-cups, a comfortable size seven. She’s about five foot seven inches and is absolutely gorgeous. High cheekbones, oval shaped face and evenly arched eyebrows with thick, kissable lips. Since the age of puberty, Reagan has had nonstop suitors, but she always ignored them and remained focused on her studies and being a robot.
Our baby sister, Robi is also beautiful. She has an edgy style but prefers to dress like a hipster when she isn’t dressing like a fashionista. Her straight cinnamon hair is often cut in an edgy style which brings out her angular, chocolate face and sleek brown eyes. Robi is our family’s chocolate beauty. When she was first brought home from the hospital, we thought that she was a baby doll. Even as she began to age and grow in beauty, many family, friends, and definitely strangers thought that she looked like a miniature chocolate Barbie doll. Everyone wanted to hold her or keep her for the weekend.
Her friendly, loveable personality always leaves her with hordes of friends and it doesn’t hurt that her body is nice too. She is thick, only five foot five inches at a comfortable size nine. She’s at ease in her body and doesn’t care what anyone says. Besides her personality and delectable figure, she has an angelic smile. Dimples. Knocks everyone dead all the time. Not to toot our horns, but our parents gave us some great genes. In one way or another, we’re a fabulous representation of our parents.
I love bragging about my family. I also enjoy schmoozing about my amazing husband and little girl. I’m living the life. Best of all, love is in the air.
“She’s doing it again.”
“Monologuing her life to herself.”
I turn around to see my sisters all staring at me. I wonder how long I’ve been occupied with my own thoughts. “What? What are you looking at?”
“We’re looking at you with that retarded smile on your face. Misty has been demolishing the candy on your desk for the past five minutes,” Robi reports.
“And you guys just let her?! She’s only a baby.”
“A feisty baby,” Randi mumbles. “She had a lollipop in one hand and a chocolate bar in the other. I thought she was going to gnaw me to death when I tried to take it away from her.”
I roll my eyes at my siblings. They let Misty get away with everything. I look down at my adorable little baby and realized why. She was too darn cute. “Misty, what did Mommy and Daddy tell you about eating candy?”
“No, no, no.”
A chorus of awes fill our combined office and I shake my head. This is why they have such a hard time disciplining her. They think that she’s too cute and they allow her to run amuck. Even robotic Raegan can’t withstand her charm.
“That’s right. We said no, not until the weekend. Give Mommy the candy, please.”
“Please?” She repeats after me with big, entreating eyes.
I roll my eyes as I feel myself about to give in. “All right, only one piece.” We watch her choose the lollipop which is the obvious choice. It will last much longer than the chocolate.
“Am I still taking her to Mom and Dad’s today,” Reagan asks me, organizing a stack of papers before putting those same papers into individual files. I roll my eyes at her diligence before remembering her question.
We each live in Lake George about fifteen minutes from our parents’ house except for Robi who lives with them. My sisters and I work in the city. Our parents have a large two story lake house. We grew up jet skiing and snorkeling. We practically lived in the water. Our summers were amazing.
“Ryan, you’re doing it again.”
“You’re a lost cause,” she mumbles.
“I’ll judo chop you,” I call after her, watching her leave the building with my baby. “So, Robi, are you ready for your meeting?”
“Nope, it’s in forty-five minutes and I feel so unprepared. What if they don’t want to perform for us? I have a sore throat. I can’t possibly perform in two days and risk losing my voice.”
“Okay, it will work out. Do you need me to accompany you?”
“You still have three meetings before you get Michael from the airport at six,” Randi reminds me.
“Crap on a stick!”
“I swear you’d forget your own head somewhere if it wasn’t on your shoulders,” Robi tells me with a smirk. She kisses my cheek then runs off to her meeting. I’m left with Randi who has a naughty look on her face.
“Stop it,” I tell her as she starts to act like a prowling tiger, roaring and fake clawing at me. She circles me slowly then smacks my ass. “Ran!”
“Ouch, you snapped right back after you had Misty. You ready to give Michael a piece of this tight little body?”
“Don’t think I haven’t been trying. He’s always tired,” I complain. “You know, when we were in college, we were both too focused on our studies to really get it in. Then once we got married, we were humping like rabbits. Now that there’s Misty in the mix, he’s back to once a month if that.”
“Oh dear, I can barely keep Miguel off of my ass. Is it work? Is he stressed out again? You know he can act like a bitch sometimes.”
I chuckle at her colorful words, nodding my head in agreement. “I think it is. I don’t know. I’m getting so delirious that I thought that maybe…perhaps...he’s just not interested in having sex with me anymore. What if he’s not attracted to me anymore?”
Randi grabs my shoulders and shakes me gently, “Don’t even think that hogwash. Michael would be a fool to even dream about resisting you. You’ve given him ten years of your life and an adorable little girl. Now pull it together and if you have to do it, hold him down and jump on his black dick and ride him until his libido returns.”
“You can be so vulgar at times,” I whisper to her, looking about as if we weren’t alone in our private office.
Randi simply smiles, kissing my cheek as she pinches my ass. “I love you.”
I squeeze her tightly, laughing as she continues to poke and prod my derriere. “I love you too, you pervert.”
“I have to get going. I’m scoping out a few locations for our upcoming event. Do what I told you. Jump all over Michael’s dick, and then you tell me about everything in explicit detail. Love ya, buh bye.”
“Bu—” I shake my head, watching my sister rush out of the office. My three clients will be simple: A fifty-one year old widower ready to get back into dating after the death of his wife, a twenty-eight year old who swears that she has a horrible time finding love, and a seventy year old looking to find her life partner. We don’t limit our clientele. If you’re looking for love, we’ll help you find what you’re searching for.
This is only a preliminary meeting where I usually would make my self-introductions and tell them about Love’s Jewels. I enjoy the first meetings. I get to see the quaint side of my potential clients before their quirks start to show. It helps me to get to know their misgivings and help to find ways to counsel them. I was a double major in college: Business admin and Psychology. I knew, after growing up in a loving home, that I wanted to help others achieve the same kind of love I always saw between my parents. Everything they did was out of love, even their arguments….I can’t remember the last time Michael and I argued now that I think about it.
Shit! I’m doing it again. I completely zoned out. I just wasted thirty damn minutes. I really need to stop this. Because of my waste of time, I’m now speeding to my first client. I would give you all the details, but I’m behind schedule so just know that the meetings are going well and now that they’re finally over, I’m on my way to pick up my husband from LaGuardia. I almost miss my ringing phone because I have a bad habit of blasting my music. Whether it’s Gospel, R&B, Country, you name it, I blast it.
I can feel a grin spread across my face as I listen to my husband’s husky voice on the other line. “Baby, I’m about twenty minutes away from the airport. I’m sorry I’m late. I got behind in my meetings.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s okay. Look, Ryan, I actually forgot to call you. I’m sorry, my flight was earlier than expected and I’ve been back at my office for a few hours now. I’m terribly sorry.”
“Wh-oh-oh. No, it’s okay; I know how you get when you’re working. Well, since you’re back I can turn around.”
“Yes, and be safe. It’s about high traffic hour.”
I snicker, “Every hour is high traffic hour in the city, Mike. Look, my parents wanted to keep Misty for the rest of the week and I figured that you and I could have a bit of adult time.” I can hear the hopefulness in my tone and pray that I don’t sound too desperate.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, baby, I’ve started on a new project. I’m in over my head and I really need this time to work. I promise though that I’ll be home in time for dinner.”
“It’s…it’s okay. I get it.” I’m disappointed. “I get it.”
“Well then, I’ll talk to you later.”
“O—” Damn, he couldn’t hang up fast enough. My feelings are hurt. No ‘I love yous’ or ‘I can’t wait to see you.’ Not even an ‘I missed you’. I turn back around deciding to stop in at a few shops. I’m thinking about remodeling our house and changing up the color scheme at Robi’s behest. She swears that it’s an old maid’s den, but I think it’s comfortable. I mean, we could use a new recliner, maybe a bigger television, and some surround sound speakers…perhaps she is on to something.
I end up window shopping. I’m not afraid to confess that I’m horrible at buying televisions and furniture. Big things overwhelm me. I normally get frustrated and just purchase the first thing I see. Michael would look at each quality detail: which one has HD, which brand is smart, which is the bigger size. I could care less. I prefer to read any how.
I check my watch as I continue with my window shopping. You’d think that I would be swiping away given my financial standing, but I hate shopping. Well, I can food shop or I can shop for others, but I don’t enjoy shopping for myself. I get bored unless I have company. I’ll hit one more store before I make my way back to my car and drive home. It’s getting pretty late. I don’t even know what I want for dinner, but Michael did say that he would be home in time.
I’m a self-proclaimed vegetarian, but if I’m being honest, I will tear up some wings. Otherwise, keep the meat away. Now, I can’t eat wings every day, I’d probably turn into a chicken wing, but the idea is very tempting. That’s it. Wings for dinner! I make this sexy pineapple barbecue sauce I like to drizzle all over those sexy suckers. My mouth is about to start watering. Screw it, I’m going home now.
I spin about on my heels ready to go home as the sweet smell of grease and cholesterol waft towards my nostrils. The Hard Rock Café. I haven’t been there in a while which is a surprise because it’s shockingly Reagan’s favorite restaurant. She says she loves the theme and the friendly atmosphere. Maybe we can come here next week for lunch. It’s been a while since we’ve had a nice sit down.
I admire the Hard Rock Café sign with a nostalgic smile then turn to leave. “Michael.” I lift my left hand—yes, I’m left handed—ready to wave as a huge smile springs upon my face. He looks so damn handsome in his light grey two piece suit. I can tell that he got it custom made. It hugs his slim body nicely. My hand slowly starts to descend as I watch him straighten his suit jacket and turn to a companion. Oh, maybe he’s in a meeting.
His companion is gorgeous. She’s tall, I can’t tell how tall because she’s wearing stiletto heels, nice ones too. Pale skin, long black hair, and she wears glasses. From what I can also see, she has a nice body. Her pencil dress wraps her sleek frame like a glove, ending just above her calves. I watch her push her hair back out of her face as she rests a hand on my husband’s chest to fix her shoe. I didn’t see anything wrong with her shoe in the first place and her proximity is kind of closer than comfort should allow between two business associates.
He says something funny and she laughs with him as she straightens up, waves and walks away. It’s only business, right? Yea, she’s a client. She is still walking away and I can see her hips swishing seductively, if she turns around and looks back then it’s not business. I’m startled, completely forgetting about Michael’s presence. He walks briskly completely ignoring my existence even though he’s practically right in front of me. He has a large smile plastered on his face which would have been endearing considering the situation.
You know what, I’m a trusting wife. Michael and I have a pretty open relationship when it comes to honesty. I’ll just ask him myself. Yea. I’ll ask him. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.