DEVLIN
I couldn’t move, immobilized by shock and horror. My body felt rigid with icy fear. It coiled in my gut, ready to bite like a viper. Had that really just happened? I glanced at the shut door. I examined my still naked body, the towel held in place over my face. Had I really chosen to cover that over my …
“Jesus,” I swore out loud.
This was not what I needed. I had tried to set boundaries and expectations with her last weekend. All tossed out the window in a matter of three seconds. And now this.
I did a double take down at my naked body. I sported a half-woody.
“Seriously?” I asked it.
It jumped in response.
Why did she have to look so pleased? The shocked “O” of her mouth. Those blushing cheeks. The greedy gaze that kept flicking back over me. My cock jumped again. I clenched my jaw and threw the superfluous towel to the floor.
Outside the door, the shadow of her feet remained.
I flicked off the exhaust fan. The fan that had blocked out her knock. I could almost feel her standing right outside the door. Somebody else might have closed their eyes and left in a hurry, maybe a dramatic squeal, but not Kim. No, she mentally ate up the real estate of my body like it was the last thing she might ever do.
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on the door. I was rock hard now.
“Ahem,” she cleared her throat and knocked.
Go away, go away.
I wasn’t sure who, or what, I was talking to at this point.
“Um, Devlin?”
I let out a long slow breath. “Yes?”
“I just want to apologize.” Her tone was far more composed than how I felt.
“Okay.”
“I did knock. And I didn’t mean to barge in. Down here or on your family dinner. I was just dropping off my cello, like we discussed. I was about to leave but then your brother sent me down—”
Brothers were overrated. I was going to murder Wes.
“But he said I should tell you that dinner was ready. Oh, yeah. That’s what I was gonna say. Dinner is ready,” she added with a nervous laugh.
“Okay.”
“Also.”
Oh God.
“You should know that I saw your penis.” Her business-like tone distracted me for a flash before the words sunk in. My eyes popped open. I hadn’t expected her to own up to it. Couldn’t we ignore the elephant—or rather, the eggplant—in the room?
“I didn’t mean to do that either.” But her voice lifted, and I could tell she was fighting a smile. “I mean, not at first. But you know. Penis. In your face. How are you not going to look?” She laughed again.
“Are you laughing?”
“Yes. Sorry.” As second later she gasped, “No. Oh, God—no. Not at your penis. You have a lovely penis. You should know. I’ve not seen too many penises … penii? But anyway, it was a very nice penis.”
“Please stop saying penis.”
“Should I say cock? Or dick?”
I was wrong before. Now I was rock hard. I bit my lip to keep my hand from lowering to stroke. This was torture. We were maintaining boundaries. We weren’t supposed to be thinking about physical attraction. I roused some anger to help find a balance. It was either get angry or pull open that door and kiss her.
“You can go now. I’ll be upstairs in a minute,” I growled.
“Okay.”
The shadow of her feet remained, and her internal debate was audible.
“What, Kim?”
“It’s just … I think it’s important to talk about these things. Clear the air before it gets awkward.” Her tone was cautious, almost clinical.
“I don’t see how you constantly mentioning my dick makes it less awkward.”
“Heh. Yeah, true. Well, just so you know. I’m fine. And this was one hundred percent my fault. I don’t want you thinking anything … um, weird. It’s just a body. A nice body, a very nice body. You should know that. You probably do know that. You have eyes …”
“Kim.”
“Okay. Sorry. Again. Leaving now.”
I let out a long breath. My hands braced the door. I was fighting a lot of different feelings. I could rip the door open to let her look her fill. Or punch the mirror to distract myself with pain, an easily identifiable sensation.
I groaned. “Kim. I can see you’re still there.”
“Right. I know. Just one more thing …” Her voice went up an active higher.
“Yes?”
“I saw your face.” She said it so quickly that the words ran together.
Anything else I’d felt was instantly drenched with ice cold dread. My throat closed so tight I couldn’t take a breath in.
“And, um. I understand now. I mean, not that you need me to understand. But I get it. And I want you to know. I would never tell anybody your business, okay? I’m not like that. I know how it feels to have everybody know the worst about you … ugh, not that your face is the worst. I’m going to stop. Okay, in summation—you have a lovely body, and I won’t ever mention this again. So there’s no reason to feel uncomfortable.”
“Right.” Not uncomfortable at all.
She sounded genuinely concerned, but I couldn’t think of anything past my own fear in that moment. Dread made me sick. What did this mean for us working together? Her voice was peppy and light, but what were her real thoughts about seeing me fully? If I could see her face, maybe it would be clearer. I wished so many fucking things had gone differently in the last five minutes. Any vain sense of pride I’d found in her words were instantly squashed.
“Okay. Well, I’m going to go home. I’ll see ya in the morning.” She kept her tone light, but I sensed her wounded feelings in the clipped words.
Finally, her shadow moved from beneath the door. I couldn’t hear her retreat, but it felt like a warm blanket being tugged off in winter. I took a deep, steadying breath. She had talked to me when she could have cowered and pretended it never happened. She was trying to be mature about a ridiculous situation. I was in a position where I should follow her example.
I scrambled to wrap a very large towel around my torso and pulled open the door. “Wait.”
She stopped halfway down the hall and spun towards me. The backs of her fingers had been pressed to her cheeks and she dropped them like she had been caught doing something bad.
“You’re right. This doesn’t have to be weird,” I called out to her.
Her eyes were wide. I couldn’t tell if she was trying not to move her eyes over my body, still half exposed, or if she was trying not to react to my face.
“Good,” her voice went higher. She wasn’t blinking. Her hands were fisted. She was trying so very hard.
I couldn’t help but smile.
Her eyes widened.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. I just … I was thinking you looked like your brother just then.”
The smiled fell back off my face. “Makes sense.”
We both took three mirrored steps toward each other.
“Right. Heh. Brothers.”
I swallowed. “And I appreciate your promise of discretion.”
“Of course,” she shook off the comment.
“You should stay for dinner,” I said.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Do you like stuffed shells?”
“Yes.” She swallowed thickly. “That sounds good.”
I ran a hand through my hair, her gaze focused on the action. She sucked her bottom lip in.
“I’ll change and be up in minute. Tell my folks?” I asked.
She nodded and turned on a heel and skittered to the stairs leading up. This was fine. We had worked through it. She was unaffected and professional. Things would be fine.
But first an ice-cold shower. Again.
Despite our discussion to not let it be weird, I fully expected the opposite.
By the time I joined my family in the dining room, Kim was chatting happily with my mom as she set the table. My dad and Wes carried two large dishes of pasta to the table.
“Hey honey,” Mom said.
I kissed her cheek and hugged my dad.
“Kim was filling us in on the Fourth of July show you’re doing,” Dad said.
“Sounds fun. Fireworks!” Ma added.
“It’s kitschy,” I said.
“People like kitschy. And families like coming to outdoor concerts. Never too soon to get kids exposed to the symphony,” Kim said as she lined up forks on linen napkins.
“That’s why we are doing it,” I said with purposeful dry sarcasm.
She smiled at me, taking me so by surprise that I smiled back without thinking. We stood there grinning at each other for two beats too long. This was why I needed to wear the mask.
I ran a hand over my face, checking for the bandana that was not there. It seemed pointless now. I never wore it around my family anyway unless other people were around.
“Okay, let’s eat,” Ma said. When she passed me, she lowered her voice and said, “Glad to see your face tonight.”
I shrugged.
After saying grace, we dug in. For a few minutes there was only the clatter of spoons against dishes and chatter of passing items. I tried to picture how Kim saw my family after meeting them for the first time. And studying my parents it occurred to me, oddly, how much older they were now. I had been gone for so long that they had transformed into grandparents while I was away. My mother’s hair had grayed near the temples and the skin around her eyes was wrinkled from so many years of smiles. My dad, too, wore more wrinkles than I remembered. But it was hard to not see them through the filter of my life. Her thin lips still quirked up to the side while she listened to someone speaking. Dad’s gleaming bald head would crinkle with every belly laugh.
Wes still looked like the same dumbass, only a little chubbier.
Once we were all a glass of wine in, except Kim, who’d had water, conversation flowed as though we’d done this a hundred times. With every passing minute, the tension from downstairs melted into warm contentedness.
Kim was … surprising. She was eloquent and cultured, but boisterous in a way I hadn’t expected. She was so quiet in rehearsal that I’d assumed she was shy. But that was Christine, apparently. Kim knew so much about music and art and literature. Her parents were two successful artists, after all. She adapted to conversation easily. Even though my parents and brother were self-dubbed blue-collar, hard-working, salt-of-the-earth people, content to drink beers and watch Sunday football, she shared her knowledge in a way that was casual and charming without an ounce of condescension.
We spoke freely of our favorite pieces and shared some of the funnier stories from rehearsals. Like the time her friend, Erin, challenged a bassist to a freestyle rap battle and wiped the floor with him. Once or twice our gazes met and held a beat too long, like we shared an intimate secret. I caught her staring openly at my face a few times, but she’d smile and I’d be utterly disarmed.
Her knowing my truth still made my skin itch, but there were perks too. I wouldn’t have to mess with the damn masks during our weekend rehearsals.
My parents clearly adored her. Of course. And even my brother turned his charm on all the way to eleven on her. They shared a witty banter that bordered on flirtation without being inappropriate. Still.
“Did you know Wes is married with two little girls?” I said.
“That’s true, I am.” Wes grinned and pulled out his phone. After a few clicks he turned the screen toward Kim. “That’s Ellie, the older one. Rose is the baby. Though, she’s almost four now.”
“Oh my goodness! Those cheeks.” Kim’s face melted as her gaze moved over the photos. “Where are they now?”
“Ellie has a stomach bug and Kelly, that’s my wife, didn’t want to bring them and risk spreading germs. They’re having a girl’s night.”
“She’s beautiful too. Looks like Wes won the lottery,” Kim said to me.
“Ha!” Wes guffawed. “I’m wounded.” His hands smacked his gut that protruded over his jeans. “I’ll have you know I was quarterback back in the day. Prom king, too.”
“Oh, I stand corrected,” she teased.
“You two will hit it off. Next week,” he said leaning to the side to slide his phone back in his pocket.
“What’s next week?” Kim asked.
Wes gestured to the meal they all currently shared. “Friday family dinner.”
“I’ll be cooking a lamb recipe,” Dad said. “I’ve been wanting to try it.”
“Y’all have dinner together every week?” Kim asked.
“Of course,” Ma answered. “Since the boys were little. It’s something we insisted on since the beginning. Every Friday.”
“If we can,” Dad said, buttering some fresh cut bread. “When Devlin travels, it’s trickier. There’re months at a time we don’t see him.”
“It’s hard,” Ma said at the same time Wes said, “It’s great.”
“Sometimes we go to the Front Porch. Or Ma and Dad’s,” I said.
“We figure, you did so much to fix up this place, we should come here as often as possible while you’re still in town,” Dad said.
“Next time,” Wes said to Kim.
“Well. I don’t know …” A blush spread over Kim’s cheeks.
“Kim plays in the symphony. She’s helping with the fall showcase,” I said, hoping Wes would take my point.
“Great,” Wes said without missing a beat. “She’ll be here a lot then.”
Kim and I exchanged another glance. She opened her mouth to protest again, but I gave a quick shake of my head. Wes wasn’t worth the effort.
Talking around a full mouth, Wes added, “Light years better than some of your exes.”
Kim frowned at her plate. Now he was just putting her on the spot. Trying to sniff out something between us.
“Wes. I already told you Kim isn’t here in that capacity.”
Kim raised her gaze to mine, and I gave her an apologetic smile.
“Stop trying to stir things up, Wes,” Ma warned.
“You’re making her uncomfortable,” Dad added. Which only made the whole thing even more uncomfortable.
“I’m not uncomfortable,” Kim insisted with a blush.
“Just saying you’re better than those plastic bimbos,” Wes spoke to a frowning Kim. Back to me he said, “I’m not trying to imply that you and Kim are … less than professional.” Wes’s ears were tipped red and his eyes glossy from the wine. “I’m just trying to compliment Kim. I like her, is all,” he added.
I started to speak when Kim spoke. “I appreciate that you like me. But don’t do that.” She held his gaze, her face impassive. This look was unfamiliar. It was steady, no shame or smiles. Just focused.
“Do what?” Wes drained the rest of his wine.
“Don’t insult his exes.”
That startled me. I hadn’t expected that. I thought … I don’t know what I thought.
“His exes? They’re forgettable,” Wes said.
Ma and Dad turned their attention to me, likely trying to gauge my reaction.
“So then detail why. But you don’t need to use their appearances as a reason to dislike them. Especially don’t put them down to try and give me value. And don’t group them together. They’re individuals.”
Wes blinked at her. “I wasn’t—”
“I know you were trying to compliment me. But I also know how it feels to be only ever referred to as so-and-so’s ex. Me and a few girls. A lot of the town sees us as no more than that. But we’re all complicated, living, breathing women.” She took a deep breath before turning to my father. “Can you pass the shells?
He passed it with mild shock.
“I wasn’t trying to—” Wes tried.
“It’s not your fault. Somewhere along the line men learn that the best way to compliment a woman is to insult another. But maybe reframe your thoughts. Because if you would have told me something like, his ex liked to kick puppies, then I’d be like, ‘Yeah she does not sound awesome.’ But blanket statements about all women just end up hurting us all in the end.”
Kim was not argumentative. She wasn’t angry. In fact, she seemed totally in her element—borderline fired-up—discussing this. She scooped another shell and brought it to her plate. “Seriously, these are so amazing. It’s just ricotta, right?” Her focus went from my mother back to Wes. “All I’m saying is, think about the person before you make those comments.”
“That’s a good point. I never thought about it like that,” Ma said, wheels turning behind her eyes.
Wes’s ears were entirely red now. He was the charming one who got away with saying whatever. It wasn’t that I thought he was particularly offensive in general, but he did have a sense of humor that didn’t always vibe with my own.
“I wasn’t trying to start something here,” he said.
Finally, Kim noticed we were all staring at her.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Did I upset you?” Wes asked apologetically.
Kim’s head turned to me, her hands spread out. “I’m not upset at all. I thought we were just talking? I’m just saying we, as a people, need to learn how to compliment women without making it about something as superficial and subjective as looks or by tearing down other women. But I’m not mad at all.” She smiled and shrugged.
“We don’t really talk about this sort of stuff at dinner,” Wes said.
“Oh, you should. Dinners are the best time. Especially when your wife and girls were here. Think about what they hear and pick up on. It adds up.”
“That’s true,” Ma said with a thoughtful nod.
“Ma, did you make dessert?” I asked, shooting a very clear look at Wes though I spoke to her, effectively ending the topic.
“Of course,” Ma said.
Kim’s eyes widened. “Fantastic.”