The 3 Month Rule Novels & Stories

It was going to be a very long three months. ***

However, she eventually relented and agreed to hire the housekeeper when Bryce kept begging her while guaranteeing that the woman was a good worker. The next day was a nice day. Lori bumped into our neighbor while on her way to work, who looked at her and asked, "Where's your husband? Doesn't he take you to work all the time? Now that I think about it, I haven't seen him for the past three months since I saw him driving off in a rush." That was when Lori realized I had not shown up for more than three months. I would have come home to pack my clothes even if I was going away for a trip, but I never once came home during this period.

He had completely forgotten one thing—these four men were not the type to play by the rules! Before the plan even began, they united to scrap it completely. "I don’t accept this three-month rotation business. I want to see him every day," Damon said confidently. "Me too," Chen agreed without hesitation. "Exactly, three months? Are you kidding me? We're not in a long-distance relationship," Shawn scoffed. Greg crossed his arms and added lazily, "And who can guarantee there won’t be any 'accidents' during those three months? If one of us does something to Dean, the other three will be disadvantaged."

"Yeah, so I'm okay with your rules except two. But before that, I should state my rules too. One: You can't say No whenever I call you except you are truly busy with something important.' He said and I nodded. It was crazy but I knew I would be able to come up with something when the time comes. "Go on." I told him. "You can't beat me up or hurt me when we are together concerning this deal." He said and a small smirk appeared on my face but I didn't say a word and just nodded. "Three: This will end after four years." He added and my eyes widened. "Are you crazy? Four years? Have you lost your mind?" I questioned and he nodded.

Taylor responds, a hint of amusement in his eyes. I look back at him, all of a sudden feeling very unsure of myself. Seeing my response, he chuckles loudly. "Don't worry. You'll be safe with me," Taylor says. "I don't make it a habit to molest my staff—well, not in their three-month probation period anyway." He delivers this with a deadpan expression, but the twinkle in his eyes reassures me that he is joking. Though given the feelings he is currently stirring in my groin, I am not sure that wouldn't be a bad thing.

“Thirty days to find a husband. That's insane, right? Tell me that's insane.” “It's certainly unconventional,” he allows, gently enough that I almost believe it's a kindness and not just a fact. “There is no approved list, no shortcut. It has to be real — filed, witnessed, provable if it's ever challenged, and given what's at stake, it will be challenged.” “Great,” I say. “On top of finding a husband in a month, I have to convince a courtroom it's real.” “I'm sorry,” he says, and he sounds like he means it, which is the only reason I don't cry right there in the chair that's too big for me.

He was rock hard. “What are you doing?” Not only could I hear the slight panic in his voice, but I could also see it on his face. “It's been thirty minutes.” “So?” He was still not getting it. “Your thirty minute rule for the duration in this mind fuck room is over, so I'm leaving.” “You're what?” His voice went dangerously low. I pouted, acting like I was pitying him at that moment even though I was downright mocking him. “Don't tell me you forgot about that. That's too bad for you–”

"Three." Matteo's eyes narrowed. The first crack in his composure, the first admission that he wasn't playing against amateurs. "You negotiate aggressively." "Yes." The rogue almost smiled again. Almost. The expression died before it could complete, starved by whatever lived in the place where his heart should have been. Matteo tapped the table once. The sound was muffled by the stone, absorbed by the room's acoustic design, but the gesture was clear. Decision made. Terms accepted, if not respected. "Three months. Provisional. No guarantees of permanence."

“A rule.” “The three-times rule.” I rolled onto my back. Looking up at him from his lap. His face upside down. The scar through his eyebrow. The jaw I’d kissed from every angle. The grey eyes that looked silver from this position because the kitchen light was behind him. “If you walk away from me three times, I won’t be standing there for a fourth.” His hand stilled in my hair. “Walk away how?”

“Okay.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. But I’m adding a rule.” He nodded, and I could see him actually paying attention now, the tiredness lifting slightly. “We check in every month. For real, not just asking if we’re fine and moving on. If anything starts feeling complicated, we say so instead of letting it turn into something.” He smiled. Not the polite version but the real one, the one that reaches his eyes and takes over his whole face, the one I had catalogued without meaning to over seven years of paying more attention than I should have. “That’s a therapist's rule.”