by Kat Addams
“You two, be good. I don’t trust you yet. You both have been little shitheads lately. I love you. I’m out!” Klara said as she quickly shut the door behind her, locking them in her bedroom.
She had put the cat litter box in there, food in there, and all their toys. Checked it two, three, four times for cat-proofing basics she’d read up on and turned to forget about them before she could take a step out her front door. Except she felt terrible.
Damn. This must be what mom guilt feels like, she thought, pausing to turn around and let them run free like the wild animals they were. She heard a faint meow through the door. Be still my heart!
“Mama will be back soon, little peanuts!” She marched forth, wine bottle and bouquet in hand like a proper dinner party guest.
The drive to The Johnson wasn’t too bad. It was farther than she normally drove, but Klara didn’t mind. Long car drives to her meant solo concerts. She cranked up the music and belted out every love song she came across. She rolled the windows down and sang to the cows she passed, the flowers, the sun slowly setting in the sky. She imagined Chris next to her, singing those same love songs to her.
Except he couldn’t because, ya know … love songs … and, well … he doesn’t love me. Limerence.
Klara could feel herself starting to get annoyed again, thinking about his limerence bullshit and how he’d acted when she told him those three words. She didn’t regret it. Okay, she did. Just a little. But she didn’t regret saying them. She only regretted being the first to say them. And what if we broke up? He would know I was a heartbroken little girl who had fallen in love, and he would just be okay? Would he be okay? Who knows? Emotionally unavailable men! What did I get myself into?
“You are a lady after my own heart, missy!” Grayson greeted her, taking the bottle of wine and the flowers. “A true Southern belle! And is this a French wine? Je’ t’aime! John likes it more Italian, of course. I mean, look at me! Of course he likes Italian. But … personnellment, je ne suis pas d’accord. Vive la France!”
Klara stood, mouth slightly dropped open and unsure of what Grayson was saying, except she did know he’d just said he loved her. And damn it, if this hot Italian gay man I just met could say he loved me, why couldn’t Chris?
“Let’s crack this baby open then, shall we?” Klara grinned.
“Charmed. I’m so damn charmed. And smitten. If I swung that way, Klara, you’d be the first to know!” he said, linking elbows with her and leading her up the front porch and inside.
Their home was exactly how she’d imagined it. An older antebellum home on a few rolling acres. The dream. This was the home she’d thought she would have with John. Their kids playing in the front yard as she sat on the porch, sipping her sweet tea. The smell of jasmine in the air as they swung in the porch swing, laughing about the time they’d met down by the river. She almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of her fantasies with John. She hoped she didn’t get too drunk tonight and spill it.
“Oh, Johnny! Look what the cat dragged in!” Grayson called out, leading her down a hall and into the kitchen.
“You’re a cat now, huh? I would have thought you were more of a tiger,” John replied, smirking at Grayson.
“Rawr,” Grayson growled, smacking John’s ass.
John stood over a pot of boiling water. His hair disheveled, his eyes narrowed in deep concentration.
“Come here, Klara. Check this out,” he said, turning toward her.
She noticed he was wearing an apron. One of those silly ones with the six-pack abs outlined on it.
“Love the apron! I’ll not be able to focus on cooking with those abs in my face.” She smiled.
“Don’t I know that!” John laughed.
Klara made her way around the rustic table, noticing the brick, the copper, all the fragrant herbs drying in the windowsill. It was exactly as a home should be. She wondered if they had a spare room upstairs, so she could move in. Just her and The Johnson. And the cats.
Ugh, the cats. She glanced over her outfit again, checking for cat hair for the eighth time.
“My pasta doesn’t take long to cook because it’s fresh. The secret to cooking it is knowing when precisely to drop it in the pot, which is just when it reaches a rolling boil. Not too subtle, not too feisty. Like yourself,” he said, nudging her with his elbow.
“Not too subtle, not too feisty. Got it. What kind of pasta is this? It smells divine!”
“Mushroom sage. Made fresh this morning!” John beamed. He clearly had a passion for this. “Grayson made the brown butter gravy this morning, too. We’ll just warm it up and serve it over the noodles. Super easy. He’s my sauce man.”
“So saucy!” Grayson snapped his fingers in the air. He already had the flowers Klara had brought in a vase, the table perfectly set, and was pouring the wine. “I also baked the bread, made the salad, and helped Chef Johnny Boy here harvest the herbs.”
“Don’t know what I would do without you, Mr. Gray!” John smiled, slowly stirring the pot of noodles.
“Mmmph! You know I like it when you call me that!”
“Oh boy, do I!”
Klara giggled at the friendly banter between The Johnson, her eyes glazing over as she wished Chris were here to laugh along with them. She missed him so much, and the time apart was making it harder and harder and harder. She was excited to see him, but she knew a lingering sadness would weigh on her all weekend, knowing that he was just going to disappear again.
“You okay, honey?” Grayson asked.
Grayson and John both were staring at her.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”
“Nope. That look was not fine! That look was the look of something or … someone on your mind. Come sit, drink, tell us about it.” Grayson pointed at the chair beside him.
“Go ahead.” John nodded. “I’m just warming the gravy in a skillet. The noodles are about done. I’ll teach you more in a bit. You clearly need a drink.”
Klara smiled shyly. Right now would be a good time to have a poker face. She let out a sigh and sat down beside Grayson, taking a long sip of her wine. She explained to them her situation. The meet, the class at school, the hotel, the beach, the date night, the limerence. Her voice stopped shaking after her second glass of wine and her second helping of pasta.
“So, you’re telling me … Chrissypoo … is all of a sudden being more distant now? And he was the one who said communication is key, right?” Grayson said, his mouth parted in a pout.
John had seen him take in the drama. Grayson lived for this stuff.
“Yeah, he did. But I think I might be pulling away some, too.”
“Totally understandable, honey! You don’t want to get hurt! You’re going to have to ask him straight up when he comes this weekend. How do you feel? Where is this going? Is this enough for you? Because you’re really asking if you’re enough; we both know that. Except you might not want to just come out and say that part. Or maybe do it. Hell! Go all in. No sense in living your life in this limbo. You could be meeting all sorts of fantastic men out there. Don’t put your life on hold for a hot-and-cold, long-distance relationship that might never be,” Grayson said, leaning back and crossing his arms.
“It might never be, but it could also be. He might be the one. Let’s not be too hard on him. Most men have a rough time with opening up. I know I did, and I think Grayson will tell you I still do sometimes. I’m working on it, but undoing the way I’ve dealt with life isn’t a quick, overnight thing,” John chimed in.
Klara looked from one to the other. Her face flushed from the wine. I’d better stop now or else I’ll really spill the details, she thought as she took a long drink of water.
“You’re both right. I think I will ask him this weekend. I can’t live like this, and I don’t want to put life on hold for a what-if. But, if he’s willing to work on being more transparent, then, well, we’ll see.”
“You don’t have to put your life on hold. Just have him in the background f
or now. You do you. Get that book out, finish this last semester, be the rock star you are—with or without him! I’m so damn anxious now to see how this goes!” Grayson said.
“Me, too!” John grinned. “Same thing this time next week?”
“Deal,” Klara said, still trying to sober up for the long drive home.
“We have a guest room, ya know,” Grayson said, noticing her water glass was empty. “You don’t have to chug it like a linebacker.”
“But the cats … ” Klara started.
“Let me tell you something about cats; they are so self-sufficient. Did you feed them? Do they have their litter box? That’s all they need, mama. And you need some time for you. Come on. Relax and hang out. Guest room is prepped and ready anyway. Might as well use it!” Grayson said.
John nodded in agreement.
Klara hesitated. She was feeling mom guilt again. But she also really wanted to see his guest room. She could only guess it was fabulous. She wondered who had done the designing, Grayson or John. Her money would be on Grayson, but John had fabulous taste, too. They really were perfect. The Johnson.
“Okay. If you insist.”
“You bet I do! Slumber party!” Grayson jumped up. “Come on. Let me show you around!”
The rest of the evening was spent with great wine, great food, great company, great conversations, and tons of laughter. Klara was sure she would wake up with sore abs from laughing so much. It had been a while since she laughed like that. Tears were streaming down her face. Grayson was animated and lively, and John even joined in on the silliness.
The perfection of the night sent her into a happiness coma. Klara didn’t even remember what time she went to bed. She just remembered crawling into crisp cotton sheets and falling straight to sleep. Warm, safe, happy. She didn’t even think of Chris or check her phone the entire night. She was too busy frolicking with The Johnson. Left completely spent and satisfied.
twelve
Klara? You okay?
Klara, I’m worried about you. Haven’t heard from you all day! What’s going on?
I hope you’re safe. I’m thinking of you. Please call me when you get this. No matter what time. I just need to know you’re okay.
The messages on Klara’s phone jolted her awake and into a panic. Four missed calls, too.
Shit!
She must have hit the Do Not Disturb button at some point during the night. The wine making her brave and stupid yet again. Except not too stupid. She was safe in bed on an amazing farm, in the middle of nowhere, with the smell of bacon calling to her from the kitchen below. The only thing that would make this more perfect was if Chris were next to her.
Chris …
Klara wasn’t sure what to respond back. She felt terrible for not communicating with him. She gathered up her things and decided to head downstairs and get back home first. She needed to clear her mind and think. Plus, that bacon smelled damn good.
“Good morning, sunshine!” John said, hovering about the stove. “How do you like your eggs? Fertilized?” He laughed, handing her a plate.
“Uh-oh. I can only imagine the shenanigans I talked about last night. Don’t tell me. I’ll go crawl in a hole now.”
“Uh-huh. You are quite the source of entertainment.” John laughed, placing a cup of coffee in front of Klara and watching her practically inhale it.
“You’re such an awesome friend. Thank you for this. All of it. I didn’t realize how much I needed some time away and to think, laugh, socialize, and just be me.”
“We all need that from time to time. You’re welcome here anytime. The Johnson cures all.”
“It really does!” Grayson said, groggily entering the room, wrapped in a leopard print robe with a matching eye mask on his head that read Nope.
Klara already wanted to be his new BFF.
“How are you feeling, hon? You okay? Gonna be ready for that big date tomorrow? Got your ducks in a row? Or at least, in the same pond?”
“I think so. The plan is, butter him up with a fabulous dinner, thanks to y’all … give him a couple of glasses of wine, make him quiver until he can’t feel his legs in bed, look at him with puppy eyes, and take the conversation to a serious level.”
“I have taught you my ways, young Padawan. Go forth and conquer.” Grayson beamed. He loved a good project, and being the hopeless romantic he was, he was going all in this with her.
“But take this with you.” John handed her a large paper bag full of pasta, sauce, bread, fresh veggies, herbs, catnip, and even candles.
“Everything you need for tomorrow night, except that French wine. Go get another bottle of that. The exact one. It went perfectly with the pasta. Text us if you need anything, too. Any questions about anything. And I do mean, anything,” Grayson said with a nudge.
“You guys are way too good to me. Seriously, this is the best. What gracious hosts you are!”
“Well, if you haven’t noticed, Mr. Drama Queen here is rooting for you. We both are, but he lives for this shit. We want a happily ever after for both you and Chris. Grayson might have taken his wedding magazines out last night after you went to bed.”
Grayson let out a gasp of horror. “Mr. John, how dare you! I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m an innocent Southern belle, and I don’t partake in these types of shenanigans!”
Klara laughed, overwhelmed with emotion for her new friends. She wondered if Grayson would be so nice to her, knowing that she used to flip through the same magazines on occasion while planning her own wedding to Farmer John. She had a feeling he would laugh and tell her, Hands off, bitch!
“I’ll let y’all know if the plan worked as soon as he leaves. Again.” She rolled her eyes. “I gotta get back home to my babies!” she continued, picking up her things to go. “Thanks again. So much. For the food, the fellowship, the hospitality, the shenanigans.”
“Anytime, Klara Pie!” Grayson said, kissing her cheek good-bye.
“Come on. I’ll walk you out,” John said, picking up her bag of goodies and carrying it out for her.
It was still early when Klara arrived home. Her long drive had given her time to think about how to respond to Chris.
Honesty is the best policy? Mostly.
She needed to see his reaction to the plan before she let him further into her life. She loved him, and if he couldn’t love her back or wouldn’t love her back, she had to let go. For her sake.
She settled the frantic kittens, letting them crawl all over her to calm her nerves. She closed her eyes, practiced some deep breathing techniques, and called him. He answered on the first ring.
“Hey you! Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick about you. I thought something happened with you or Ms. May again … or I don’t know what! What’s going on?”
Klara knew that, if Chris was this upset, he surely felt more than just limerence for her. But why, oh why, can’t he admit it? Why do I have to force it out of him?
“I’m so sorry, Chris! Here, I’ll show you. Check your texts.” Klara sent over a picture of the kittens. “Meet Ernestine and Hazel. They’ve been keeping me on my toes and so busy! Plus, I’ve been getting ready for tomorrow, and I guess I just overwhelmed myself.” It’s not a lie if I just omit a few details, right?
“You got a cat! Or … cats! Oh my goodness, they are adorable. I love the names.” Chris instantly recognized it from the brothel turned restaurant they’d messed around in.
“They are adorable balls of pains in my ass. Should have named them Hemi and Roid.”
The silence on the phone was deafening. Klara thought maybe she had gone too far. Again.
“Good God, woman.” Chris laughed. “You have such a way with words, and speaking of words … I finished my novel, too, last night. So, I guess we’re both in the stages of publishing.”
“That’s awesome, Chris! Let’s celebrate tomorrow night! I’ll make you a special dinner at my place.” Klara couldn’t believe her luck. The plan was falling into place easier th
an expected.
“That sounds amazing! I can’t wait for that. Are you as good in the kitchen as you are in bed?”
“You’ll have to see tomorrow.”
“I plan on it. You know, I woke up rock hard, thinking of you grinding on my face while you watched me play with myself. I need you in my mouth. I so need to touch myself for relief, but I’m saving it for you. I want to give it all to you. Everything.”
“I’m pretty sure the waistband in my panties just sizzled off, but I guess I’ll save mine for you, too. You’re so damn fiery. Tomorrow is going to be amazeballs. I can’t wait to see you. And, again, I’m so sorry my communication sucked yesterday.”
“Mine’s been pretty spotty, too. I understand. We’re both busy.”
“Yes. Busy, busy. Can I pick you up from the airport tomorrow? Or will you have a driver again?”
“Driver. I’ll come straight to your place. No worries. I’ll be there right at dinnertime to enjoy a home-cooked meal. I’m so looking forward to that! And to having you for dessert!”
Good, Klara thought. Because she didn’t even plan for dessert and wasn’t even going to attempt to bake a cake. She thought she had a canister of whipped cream in her fridge she could squirt on her thighs, but she couldn’t even remember when she’d bought it. It was probably putrid at this point. That would be a terrible idea. She reserved herself to cleaning out her fridge and cleaning up her entire house today as soon as she was back from work.
“I’ll be ready and waiting. I’ve got to run though. I need to put a few hours in today. Text you soon. Promise.”