By 7:00 PM, when Ken arrived at my apartment, the morning’s disappointment regarding King had faded.
I told myself that I wasn’t at square one, I knew his name and his address, so I did have something to give to the authorities if the situation escalated. But seeing his arrest record had been chilling. Seeing his lack of convictions had been frustrating. I supposed I hoped he was hanging by a thread as far as the law went, possibly on strike two of the three strikes. I didn’t know if three strikes was a thing anymore—I just wanted leverage or hope that I could make him stop. As it was now, I didn’t have anything. The police would shrug if I made a report. Pictures of me? So what? A picture of his penis? They wouldn’t care. I didn’t have proof that he’d put his hands on me or intimated that he’d retaliate if I hurt him. Looking at this from the outside, I recognized that I had nothing—nothing against him and no recourse.
I shook it off, knowing I was in a much better position and frame of mind than I had been two days ago. Two days ago, I didn’t know if Ken was on the verge of dumping me, didn’t know who King was, and didn’t know if I was going to have to marry my best girl friend to save her from her evil cousin and his nefarious scheme to take over the world.
Now? Now I knew Ken was in love with me, knew his troubles weren’t about me or King, and Daniel O’Malley had stepped up to save Kat and the world. Things were looking up for Steven Thompson, yes indeed.
Once Alex had come back to collect Wally, I decided to order Chinese for dinner. When Ken walked in, I met him with a sound kiss.
“Hey there, sexy thing,” I greeted.
He dropped his gym bag on the floor of the entry and squeezed my waist. “You’re in a great mood tonight, I see.” He dipped his head to nuzzle my ear with his nose and whispered, “Rub some of that off on me.”
“Ooh, gladly.” I gave him another kiss but kept him from deepening it. I wanted to have our talk before we started yanking our clothes off.
I took him by the hand, led him into the kitchen and announced, “Ta-da!” with a flourish. I had the countertop littered with boxes and boxes of take-out. “It’s the same food from our date. I figured we could have a little do-over, but this time, I’d be clued into the fact that I could get a little action at the end of the night.” I gave him a wink, making him laugh. “We’ll have lots of leftovers that you’ll help me with this time.”
He shook his head and smiled widely, like I was crazy in the best way. “You’ve made my day a thousand times better, just by being you.”
I swear, this guy…his candor and heart were going to kill me. “You do the same for me,” I admitted. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s addicting. You’re addicting.” Deciding that was enough mushy stuff, I interrupted the mood, “Load up your plate, let’s go eat!”
After we got settled, I asked, “Did you have a hard day at the hospital, or are you stressed out because we’re going to have that talk?”
He chewed and bobbed his head back and forth. “A little of both, actually,” he said once he’d swallowed.
“Well, don’t stress over me,” I insisted. “I’m here to support you, not make your life harder.”
He stared, his brow scrunched. After a moment, he sighed, and it was hard to interpret. Could a sigh be dreamy and frustrated at the same time?
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he shook his head. “Right there.”
“Right where? What are you talking about?”
Instead of answering, he said, “I told Kari about you on Sunday.”
My body stilled. This wasn’t going to be good. “Okay,” I said slowly.
“She didn’t take it…very well.”
I nodded my head and repeated, “Okay,” encouraging him to continue, but my face was starting to lose blood. Dread filled me. He hadn’t been completely honest when he said it wasn’t about me—that it was only family problems. This was absolutely about me.
“She said some nasty shit,” he said in a rush. “And I asked her if I was disinvited from the wedding if I brought you as my guest. She said we needed to cool down and talk later.”
I exhaled deeply and closed my eyes. “You hadn’t come out to your family until now?” I didn’t like this. I didn’t like the idea that I was the wedge, that I was the bombshell in the family. Suddenly, I felt a whole lot less secure.
“That’s just it!” he bellowed, then seemed to check himself and continued more calmly. “They’ve known for years. I guess I didn’t realize that Kari had her head in the sand this whole time. It hurt.” His jaw clenched. “And it made me angry. So angry.”
I felt a small sliver of relief at that—knowing his sexuality was not new information to his family. But I was afraid of what this meant for us. I scooted closer to him and laid my hand on his. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but I have to ask…” I couldn’t keep the worry from my voice, though I tried mightily. “Were you thinking of breaking up with me this week?”
“No!” he insisted. “Hell no.” He grabbed the sides of my face and brought our foreheads together, making my glasses shift. His vehemence erased some of my tension and I sagged in relief. “Not for one second, do you hear me? I love you.”
I love you. I let the words wash over me and I tried to soak up the comfort and reassurance, but they didn’t quite have the same impact they’d had this morning. He loves his family, too. I didn’t know if loving me and loving his family was going to be compatible in the long run. Eventually…
I pulled away and sat up straight. Ken examined my face then continued, “I just needed time to get over the sadness of losing Kari, too.”
I frowned, not understanding what he meant. “Too? And what do you mean, ‘losing?’ You guys are going to talk it out. Emotions are running high, but you’ll work it out.”
He was shaking his head before I finished speaking. “No, she said things I can’t forget, Steven. I expected more from her. Kari, my dad, hell, maybe even my mom…” He sneered in contempt. “My relationships with them apparently come with some high expectations and strings. I didn’t realize that until college—didn’t think it was the case with Kari at all.”
His use of the word, ‘expectation,’ reminded me of our conversations about his family. Knowing Ken’s personality like I did, I thought I was starting to see what was happening.
“Babe,” I said gently. “I know I don’t know much about the dynamics of your family, but I do know that you and your sister can both lose your cool when people don’t stick to the imagined script. It sounds like each of you went into that conversation with different expectations and came out of it angry and hurt.”
He gave a small, reluctant nod of his head. “Yes, but she knows how strained my relationship is with our dad—and why. She said things that brought that betrayal back to the fore.” Eyebrows raised he shook his head bewildered. “What did she think? That I’d hold on to hard feelings this long over nothing?!”
I knew I was missing part of this story. It sounded like something similar had happened in college with his dad and Kari hadn’t learned a lesson from that. Selfishly, this realization helped my own inner turmoil. He had issues with his family years before I’d come along, and I wasn’t as afraid that he’d resent me over it.
Gently, I encouraged him to tell me the story. He painted a picture of an idyllic childhood and family—his parents happily married, his father, the judge, an important and wise man, Ken’s own desire to emulate them and to be passionate about things that mattered and make things that mattered a priority.
He said of his dad, “He had a passion for law and a passion for people. He never wanted to let anyone down. It never crossed my mind that he’d ever let me down. But he did.”
I listened with quiet consolation as he told me about the night his dad caught him with a guy at school—how his dad tore into him, berated him, tried to make him think he was screwing up his whole life.
“I didn’t think he’d let me down,” he said again, his eyes filled with sadness. “And I didn’t think I’d ever disappoint him. But we both did those exact things by simply being ourselves, I guess. We assumed things about each other, things we thought we knew, then got upset when the other didn’t…”
“Stick to the script,” I supplied softly. “I’m seeing a genetic pattern here, Ken.”
He let out a huff of reluctant amusement. “Ya think?”
I thought about his dad. I thought about his relationship with his sister and what I knew about it. Ken didn’t have many people in his life who he loved, who were his cheerleaders. The idea that he was losing one of them broke my heart. He loved his sister and she loved him. I knew she did. Maybe they just needed to fight the pull of their DNA that wanted to write people off who disappointed them. I wanted Ken to be happy and losing his relationship with his sister wasn’t going to make him happy.
“Do you want my advice, even though we’ve established that no one takes or has any use for good advice?”
He was frowning, probably anticipating what I was going to say. Still, he said, “Sure.”
“I don’t know about your dad—you guys have let a lot of years go by. But Kari is a big part of your life and you love her. Right?” I asked pointedly.
He nodded stiffly.
“You love her,” I repeated. “So be the bigger man here, Ken. Go to the wedding without me. Help make her day fairytale perfect.” The look on his face was pure incredulity. He opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but I held my hand up to silence him. “I know, I know,” I assured him, and squeezed his knee. “She was awful. I know it, you know, she knows it.
“This wedding is happening soon. It’s important to her. When you guys make up—and you will—you’ll both look back at the wedding pictures and be sad that you were absent. It will be a reminder of a very sad time for both of you. This way, you can avoid that regret and, honestly”—I gave him a conspiratorial, somewhat evil grin—“take some satisfaction in knowing you’re the bigger Miles. She’s petty and you’re not.”
“B-but,” he sputtered. “It’s the principle of the thing! Why should I go and celebrate her and her love, when I can’t even show up with the person I love?”
“Because you love her,” I said quietly. “And I’m right here. The wedding isn’t about me or you or us. It’s about her and what’s-his-name.”
“I don’t like this,” he muttered. “Are you trying to turn me into a good person or something?”
“You’re already a good person. I’m just trying to look after that soft heart of yours.” Somebody has to. “Go. Fulfill your family duties. If you guys haven’t patched things up by Thanksgiving, take me home with you and we can set fire to the holidays. We’ll ruin all the holidays for years to come.”
His face lit up at that. “Promise?”
“Oh, Thor give me strength. Yes, yes, I promise.”
We finished eating our cold Chinese, then Ken announced that he was going to email Kari to tell her that he’d be in Cleveland for a fitting on the sixteenth.
“Sounds good. I’m going to watch some DWTS.” We’d been together long enough for him to know that DWTS meant Dancing with the Stars. We’d also been together long enough for me to know he disliked the show.
He gave a rueful twist of his lips, but said, “I’ve got a book in my bag, so go crazy.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started typing.
I scooted down to recline on the armrest and turned on the DVR to get the show going, but my eyes kept straying to Ken who seemed to be concentrating hard on whatever he was writing. Once, he huffed and said, “No. Delete,” and started again.
This witch…
Pride and principle were important to Ken. Extending this olive branch, letting her have her way was difficult for him. But he was tenderhearted under his crust, and I suspected he was relieved that I was encouraging him to do this.
I hoped his sister took this opportunity to make things right with him, because if she didn’t, I was sure Ken wouldn’t be giving her another chance.
His phone chimed with a text. I glanced over to see him exhale shakily. When he connected eyes to mine, I could see his were shimmering with moisture.
“What did she say?”
He cleared his throat. “Just I love you.”
“Oh,” I replied. “That’s good. That’s a good start.”
He set his phone on the table and swatted his hand in the air. “She’s just saying that because she’s getting her way.” The words were gruff, but he wore a smile. He came toward me, so I started to rise from my reclined position, but he stopped me.
“Don’t get up.” He lifted my legs and settled himself underneath them, draping my limbs over his lap.
“You okay?”
“I think I will be, thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said, waving my hand in dismissal.
He caught my hand mid-swipe and brought my knuckles to his lips. “You did everything,” he said, relief and gratitude etched on his features. I paused the playback on the TV, anticipating a serious conversation about what came next, but he surprised me when he affected a comically horrified expression. “You DVR this show?”
Ah, I loved when Ken became playful.
I played along, fighting my smile. “Yes, I do, McPretty. Don’t judge me. The new season is starting next week, so I thought I’d re-watch the last finale.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Wait. This is old? You’ve been watching reruns? You already know who wins?” His voice was infused with exaggerated incredulousness, underscoring how crazy he thought it was.
I felt my lips twitch, but I held fast to my composure. “What?” I shrugged, pretending to be oblivious.
“I don’t know how I feel about this.” He dropped my hand like I had leprosy. “Movies are one thing, but re-watching contests? Dance contests?”
I couldn’t hold back, I burst into laughter. He was too freaking adorable.
He continued to fight his smile and muttered, “You think you know somebody…then he uses air quotes and records dance contests.” He shook his head like the situation was completely tragic.
I scrambled up, removing my legs from his lap. “What do you have against dancing?”
“I don’t enjoy it,” he replied baldly.
I straddled his lap, brought my face close to his and whispered, “There’s nothing about bodies moving in sync that stimulates you at all, Ken?” I lowered my groin to his and gave a tight, controlled grind.
He hissed out a breath, bringing his hands to my hips. “I understand wanting to dance, enjoying the act as a participant—like Paulie does. But watching others dance, viewing it as art holds no appeal for me.”
I gave another thrust, pulling a moan from him.
“Do you like participating? In dances? What about a lap dance? Do you see the value in that?” I asked softly, my lips just above his.
With my next grind, he was un-bucking my belt.
“Steven,” he said, breath shallow. “If we were the participants in a recorded lap dance, I would re-watch the hell out of it.”