“So, Steven…” Ken’s grandmother said, pulling my attention reluctantly away from him. He was dancing with Kari, smiling from ear to ear as they swayed to-and-fro. He was dressed in a finely made gray suit and yellow tie. At some point, he’d shucked the jacket and was currently in a vest and rolled shirt sleeves. His golden waves had been gelled to the side hours before but had begun to show signs of resistance by kinking up. He was happy. He was stunning. So beautiful my heart hurt.
“Are you and my Kenny going to be the next to wed?”
I chuckled at her bold question. The woman was a complete hoot. I’d been able to spend several hours in her company since Ken and I arrived on Mackinac Island late Thursday evening. She’d been game to spend Friday accompanying the wedding party all over the island for photo shoots. She’d posed for some, but mostly had been content to watch the activity from the horse-drawn carriage, tucked under a thick blanket to shield her from the cold, autumn breeze.
Friday’s photo shoot had been a day-long endeavor. Everyone dressed in sweaters and knit hats and traversed a bit of the beautiful wooded area of the island, posing next to fallen logs amid brightly colored foliage—brilliant oranges, reds, and yellows dotting the ground and treetops.
We visited the quaint Victorian-era downtown, posed in front of a shop proclaiming it to be “America’s oldest grocery store,” and pretended to look over wooden crates full of Michigan apples, pumpkins, and jellies. We meandered around the old fort, made our way down to the rocky beach, and even rode the ferry around the strait.
As Ken’s SO (as Kari referred to me), I was encouraged to participate in most of the staged shots, but there were times when only the wedding party had been required. In those times, I’d been summoned by Nana to keep her company. I enjoyed her humor and her seemingly filter-less conversation. The woman said exactly what she wanted to say—and with no remorse. I loved her. At one point I asked her to tell me something about Ken as a little kid, and, of course, she went straight to something embarrassing. Oh, my little Kenny…from the time he was a toddler to when he was about ten or eleven, would stick his finger in his nose whenever he was tired or stressed. Julia didn’t know how to break him of it, but he finally gave it up. Kari used to call him Booger Boy.
I had been *this* close to spitting apple cider all over Nana. Booger Boy. If I didn’t love that weirdo so much, I’d use it to bust his balls until the end of time.
Now, seated in the reception, Nana’s bluntness was getting her in trouble. “Mother…” Julia began, chastising her for her intrusiveness.
“What?” she asked, feigning obliviousness. “Kenny’s my last unwed grandchild and I’m not getting any younger.”
Despite herself, Julia laughed and shook her head at her mother. “You’re impossible,” she said, then turned toward me, her face shining with happiness. “Please ignore her, Steven, you don’t have to let her put you on the spot like that.”
“I could die tomorrow. I don’t want to depart this world not knowing,” Nana harrumphed, garnering a unified chorus of scoffs around the table.
We were in the Grand Hotel—the festivities beginning to wind down. I was seated at a table designated for the immediate families of the bride and groom, but had to be separated from Ken throughout dinner, as he’d been required to sit at the wedding party’s long table at the front of the room. The situation caused Ken a bit of anxiety at first. He worried I’d feel uncomfortable being stuck alone with his parents, grandmother, and Brandon’s parents and step-parents. But it had been fine. Lovely, in fact.
The whole weekend had gone perfectly. Ken and his father spent time together working toward building their relationship, his parents seemed cordial—if not loving—toward each other, and I could discern no overt curiosity or judgment aimed my way from the other guests. Kari had been especially lovely. Even with the stress of the weekend and moments of snappishness toward some of the party and staff, she’d gone out of her way to make me feel welcome. Not only had she included me in activities, she’d also pulled me aside for a sincere apology for the things she’d said. Looking into those sapphire eyes, so like Ken’s, I couldn’t help but be charmed by her.
I hadn’t precisely known what to expect with Ken this weekend but found myself surprised by his easy cheerfulness. He hadn’t avoided physical contact with me—he’d been as demonstrative as he’d have been in Chicago—nor had he avoided conversations or introductions, either. He embraced the celebration and duties and was happier and more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. Truly, it had been a beautiful weekend.
As for me, I’d been trying to work toward earning Ken’s forgiveness. I knew it meant time, proving oneself couldn’t happen overnight. But I was all-in, ready to play the long game. I didn’t imagine it was always going to be easy. I had to admit to myself that I let deep-seated insecurities erode my trust in Ken and myself. I’d had to acknowledge that I wasn’t as confident as I thought I was, that I had doubts about my desirability as a permanent partner for someone who was as handsome as Ken—and for someone who had an endless selection of potential lovers. It was all on me, and I needed to work on myself because Ken was amazing and didn’t need the burden of having to constantly reassure me. He deserved to be trusted—judged by his own actions and words and not be tainted by factors he couldn’t control.
Ken wanted to be known. He wanted me to know the entirety of him and still love him. Didn’t we all want that? Wasn’t that vital to having a pure love? I wanted it. I wanted to wake up sure that Ken knew every flaw and vulnerability I had and still loved me unconditionally. Hiding was exhausting. Living up or down to expectations wasn’t sustainable. Being raw and naked was scary, but it was honest. We couldn’t be known without being honest.
Since the King attack, we’d been nearly inseparable. Ken had unofficially moved in with me—that is to say, as of now he still had his apartment, but most of his personal belongings had made their way to my place, and the only nights we’d spent apart were nights I’d been in Boston with Kat.
After Kat had offered me the job eleven days ago, we’d worked out a schedule where I was going to fly to Boston on Sunday nights and return to Chicago late on Tuesdays. I’d do as much remotely as I could while keeping up with my Cipher projects. Caravel Pharmaceuticals was in a mess but would weather it.
“What are we talking about?” Ken asked from behind me, his hand coming down to rest on my shoulder. He seated himself next to me and draped one arm across the top of my chair. “Not Nana’s impending death again, I hope. Don’t fall for it, Steven.”
The table erupted into laughter. Even Nana reluctantly chuckled.
Ken reached over, plucked my wine glass and took a drink. He choked when his dad, smiling devilishly said, “Your grandmother only wanted to know when you and Steven were tying the knot.”
I worried momentarily that Ken would take exception to his family asking me such things, but he recovered quickly and laughed, his eyes twinkling.
“When we do, you can bet we’re not doing this,” he gestured behind his shoulder at the lavish reception. “We’ll elope, thanks. No need to hide your wallet. I won’t do that to you.”
I was stunned. I couldn’t believe he’d said it so plainly and confidently. My face must have displayed my shock because his smile grew wider as he winked at me, rubbing the back of my neck comfortingly.
“That’s not what I was…I didn’t mean…I wasn’t worried about—” his dad sputtered, brows furrowed.
Everyone laughed again, this time at Robert’s expense. I could clearly see Ken and his temperament in his father. The resemblance was uncanny.
I leaned close to Ken and asked quietly, “We’re eloping, huh?”
Impossibly, his grin grew wider, teeth glinting in the soft ambient light. “Well, it’s my preference, but we should compare scripts and then decide.” He kissed me softly, uncaring of our audience, his attention wholly on me. “But if the only way I can make it happen is by sticking to your script, then that’s what I’ll do, because I want forever with you.”
Tears pricked my eyes and I was momentarily choked with emotion. “Forever sounds perfect.”
I loved him and I couldn’t believe sometimes that he was in my life. I’d come so far in this year. From despair to hope, from friendship to love, from doubt to surety—and it was all because of Ken. Ken and his steadfast, open, beautiful heart. I wanted everything with him. I wanted to write my script with him on every page.
The End.