The Fiancé (It's Just Us Here Book 6)

by Christopher X Sullivan

  Travis laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”

  Except, that was basically how it happened. “Let’s jump on our work,” I said. “I’ve got three big sponsor calls lined up. Do you need anything?”

  “Get me more grunts,” Nick said—he always wanted more back-end guys.

  “Maybe if you hadn’t made out with Suhail, he would have joined our crew,” Travis quipped.

  “Maybe,” I said. Then I had a sudden stroke of inspiration.

  The reason Suhail resisted joining my project was because he was back together with Melanie and wanted to put space between us in case things got awkward. But now I’m with Mark. We’re serious. Suhail and Mel are moving in together: serious. What’s stopping him from joining us? Can I finally convince him to take a three-month sabbatical and join my coders?

  There was only one way to find out.

  We worked for the rest of the day.

  Mark called me at three and said he was coming home to get ready for the club. A friend from his office was going to be at the party, if that was alright by me.

  “I’m going to be stuck to you like glue. I don’t care how many people are there.”

  “Come over and let’s nap,” Mark commanded, ending the call abruptly.

  Nick and Travis gave me the okay to leave for the afternoon. “You work too much as it is,” Travis said.

  “We’re in perpetual development, so we need everyone focused,” Nick argued. “Party tonight, but we need you focused after this.”

  “I will be focused,” I promised. “It’s not every day that your best friend comes back into your life and you come out to your parents. This has been a special couple of weeks.”

  “Yes. We’ve only had this once-in-a-lifetime drama twice in the past year,” Nick said sarcastically. “It better not increase in frequency.”

  “Mark and I are solid.”

  “So you keep saying.” Nick was clearly in a rough mood. I was afraid to ask what had gone wrong in the past few hours, or the past day, or the past week. Nick got in these dark moods often enough that I had learned to give him his space to work it out.

  “You don’t have to come tonight,” I reminded both of them. “I don’t know if you can take getting your ass grabbed...” That was a warning meant specifically for Travis.

  “Are you going to grab it?” he teased.

  Look who’s changed now!

  Nick grunted and retreated to his bedroom. “What’s up with him?” I mouthed to Travis. He gave me the typical Travis-look like from back when we were in college, which used to be reserved for when the frat-boys would engage in horsing around on campus and now it was repurposed for the volatility in Nick and the stress of our current financial situation.

  I walked over and knocked on Nick’s door. “Hey Nick,” I said softly as I opened it.

  “What.”

  “I know I’m not the best people-person, but I can tell when something’s up. Do you want us to leave you alone for a few days, or is there something we need to talk about?”

  “It’s nothing,” he said grumpily.

  “Are you ready to leave?” I asked gently.

  “What?”

  “Your exit strategy. We talked about this when we started our project. Suhail told me you switch gears like snapping your fingers. Have I done something to push you away? To upset you?”

  “I like what we’re doing,” he said after a moment, but couldn’t sustain eye contact. “I love it, actually. Even if the funding is going to dry up and this will all be for nothing. I really enjoy this.” He sighed.

  “Then what’s eating you? Travis said you’ve been distant the past few days.” It’s got to be Suhail moving on with his life. I felt the same way when Travis ditched me all those years ago. It got me stuck in a rut. It was a lonely transition.

  “It’s you and Mark,” he finally admitted.

  What? “You have a problem with Mark?” I was incredulous. Of all the people to be affronted by my partner, Nick was like... the most laid-back person in the world. Yeah, I added a heaping of stress to his plate, but he had grown into the responsibility.

  “Not him. You and him. Together. Man, we used to be on the same page.” He couldn’t look up and instead stared at my chest. “You were struggling... just like me. I used to be able to see you and think, shit, at least I’m not him. Then Mark shows up out of nowhere and it’s like...”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. I’m happy for you guys. I guess that’s why I’m in a bad mood. Suhail has Mel and you have Mark. Fuck, do they have any sisters?”

  “All taken.” I gave him a sad, crooked grin.

  “You went from nothing to being an old married couple overnight. Like you just walked in with this guy...”

  “You met him before. Mark and I have a history.”

  “I know. And I’m happy for you...”

  “Are you comparing yourself to me?” That thought was strangely off-putting. “No one wants to be me. Why would anyone want to be me?”

  “You’ve got things working in your favor,” Nick said. “Everything goes your way.”

  “What are you talking about! I have to take almost a week off every month because of my autoimmune stuff. I don’t have anything figured out. All I know for sure is that Mark will be with me through it.” I sat on Nick’s bed. “You’re a lunatic if you want to be me. I’m not even gay and I came out to my parents!”

  That prompted a smirk out of Nick. “I’m probably just worried about you leaving. If you leave, this all goes to shit.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re already gone,” he mumbled. “I can see it. Feel it. You aren’t with us anymore.”

  “I’m right here. I’m literally on your bed right now.”

  “Yeah. I guess you are...” He frowned. “I’ve got some work to do before your party. See you in a few hours.”

  “See you.” I left Nick to his pity party. His words forced me to second-guess myself. Am I committed to this project? Yes, of course I am.

  But, in my heart, I knew what Nick was getting at. My spare time, my energy, was now directed at someone else. I spent my days daydreaming about Mark—how to impress him and how to make him laugh. My work with Nick and Travis had become formulaic. Boring.

  Work.

  “It’s going to settle down,” I reminded myself while walking down the stairs. “I’m going through a transition, but once it settles down, I’ll go back to being one hundred percent focused.”

  But when have you ever done that, Chris? You jump from one project to the next. That’s why you love writing so much. You sit for a month and write a book, then you jump to the next story in a completely different genre. You’ve never had the patience for long stories...

  You like the challenge and you like the differences. Coding isn’t the same. Coding gets stagnant. You keep calling the same people asking for the same thing, getting the same answer every time. All these insurance companies and hospitals and rehabilitation clinics... they’re all operated by the same type of person. And they all respond to the same words and the same ideas.

  Boring.

  This isn’t as freeing as writing. Nick can feel you adjusting, changing your sails and getting ready to head in another direction. You were worried about Nick leaving the project... but really you were just projecting your own hidden desires.

  Admit it. You want to leave. You want to give up and return to what you know, return to what is easy. You gave this half a year and you have nothing to show for it. What stories have you written in that time?

  And you’re leading your friends down a blind alley with no escape hatch.

  You don’t know what you’re doing and it’s time you admitted it. Mark is back. Mark helps you see things clearly. He knows you’re a good writer—meant to write—perhaps you were born to write. Why are you so far outside your comfort zone?

  Not everything is easy. Not everything can be fixed. Not everything can be
achieved with a can-do spirit and brainpower. You need more. You need funding. You need to know what you’re doing. You need to be more than what you are.

  The voice inside my head was insistent... and correct. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was blindly calling tentative contacts and introducing myself as professionally as possible, but they were still cold calls and I was not a people-person.

  I was not good at this. Communication via e-mail and website stuff? I could do that. And I was good at keeping my team focused on the bigger picture and breaking down goals into smaller ‘prototype goals’.

  I had given this project half a year of my life. It was time to reassess, just as Mark’s reappearance had prompted me to reassess virtually everything else in my life.

  The only thing I knew for sure was that Mark would be by my side to help me figure this mess out. Right?

  WE DIDN’T TAKE AN UBER to the club. Mark and I were well-rested, showered and ready for a night on the town... and Suhail volunteered to be our designated driver. I said we should all take an Uber or public transport, but Suhail was adamant—he wasn’t going to drink (not like last time).

  I felt kind of bad because my friend must’ve been uncomfortable around me when I was drinking seeing as I had acted a teensy bit predatory towards him that one time. But that was all to get Mark riled up! I wasn’t actually going to do anything!

  Nobody would let me live that mistake down, and it infuriated me.

  Suhail drove the chariot and Melanie was in the front seat next to him. That left Mark and me in the back. My partner told Suhail to ‘play the song’.

  “What song?” I asked. Mark and I were both buckled in the back seat. Wait, what?

  Then the first few bars to Faith Hill’s ‘This Kiss’ bounced around and I had a smile a mile wide. He tickled me. We sang the lines back and forth just like we had last year after our disastrous hike.

  I unbuckled halfway through the song and moved closer to him. Suhail told us to stop singing so out of key. I agreed—we needed to stop singing... so I launched my face at Mark’s and made out with him. And man, we went at it. We were noisy and sloppy.

  It was my first time making out in the backseat of a car.

  “Hey!” Melanie yelled. “Keep it together. None of that.”

  Mark was unbuckled and slowly made his way under my body as my hands roamed under his shirt. “I never got to kiss in the back seat when I was little,” I complained. Let me have this.

  “You still are little,” Mark said.

  That did it. I straddled him while he lay on the backseat.

  “You might want to watch what you say to me,” I threatened. “I’ve got the power tonight.” I squatted my ass into his crotch then shimmed down his legs so he was completely pinned. We went back to making out. Suhail slammed on the brakes so that I nearly bonked my head into the seat. I cursed.

  “Stay buckled at all times while inside a moving vehicle,” Suhail intoned.

  “Fuck you,” I snapped. As if. I smiled into Mark’s face and we both giggled. I felt so bubbly. I nibbled on his neck and whispered I love you.

  He kissed the side of my face. “Back at ya.”

  We regained our composure for the final few minutes of our drive. I didn’t buckle—Mark’s arm’s were a fine substitute. I pressed into him and squirmed until he was all the way around me.

  We parked. I laughed again.

  “How much did he drink?” Mel asked.

  “He’s a lightweight,” Mark said.

  “I’m just feeling good. And excited.” I swung into his arms. “And haaa-ppy.”

  “You’re feeling something alright,” Mark commented. He swung me onto his shoulder and spanked my upturned butt.

  “Hey,” I said, coming back to myself. “Over the line.”

  He spanked me again and sat me down. I practically skipped my way to the bar, holding Mark’s hand and tugging like it was a leash. The lights were just coming on in the city and the sky was a beautiful mix of red and tangerine.

  Mark paid my cover fee because I had once again forgotten. “Let’s see who’s here,” I said.

  “I invited your mother,” he replied.

  My heart raced ahead of my mind and caused a brief flare of anxiety. “Haha,” I said sarcastically. “She probably would’ve taken you up on it. She followed me to all my track meets and stuff.”

  It was a small weekday crowd, so not as overwhelming. Mark and I almost never went out on a Wednesday (seeing as my usual schedule was Tuesday and Thursday), which meant I had no idea there was a ‘theme night’ going on. The Ugly Rhino served as more of a watering hole on the off nights, and that’s exactly the crowd we walked into. There were small groups mingling and a couple dozen people near the speakers at the front of the dance floor. Lots of leather. I didn’t pay them any attention. Themes be damned!

  We walked up the stairs to Mark’s favorite spot... and it was basically cordoned off for my party. Ryan and Amber were at the railing and watching the crowd. I gave Ryan a hug when he wanted a handshake. I gave Amber the handshake when she wanted a hug.

  “Someone is in a good mood,” Amber commented.

  “Look! We’re back together!”

  “So I heard.”

  I kissed Mark on the spot. “And I told my parents!” I broke free from his arms. Obviously I told my parents... that’s why everyone is here.

  Mark got treated so poorly that night—on what was supposed to be ‘our’ night. He was nothing more than a prop—arm candy. I orbited around him like an extra speedy satellite.

  Then we saw another friend from what felt like a lifetime ago.

  I basically jumped into Marty’s arms, which was very unlike me. “Marty!” I said excitedly. “Babe! It’s your gay dads!” I laughed, then hugged Marty and whispered in his ear, “Thanks for looking out for him.”

  “We’re pulling for you two,” he said back. I jumped away from him and shook Claude’s hand, beaming the entire time. “I feel great!” And that was the truth.

  Mark had invited many, many other people—including Eddie the hairstylist, Wang the chef and Chaz, Dima’s assistant.

  But the important people were Marty and Claude, Nick, Suhail and Mel, Ryan and Amber... and then there was Travis and Ashleigh, who arrived so late I assumed they had canceled.

  So of my important inner circle, only Tim and Stacy were absent. And they were, in some ways, the most important of all. I was honestly surprised that Ryan had showed up if Tim wasn’t going to. It would appear that Ryan was stuck in the middle of The Feud—as Mark had come to call my fight with Stacy.

  Stacy and I didn’t have a line of communication. Ryan talked to Tim. Tim talked to Stacy. Tim didn’t discuss me with either of them.

  As the days wore on, I could feel Ryan steadily pulling away from me. He would never leave Tim—they had been best men at each other’s weddings. Mark and I had seen Ryan exactly twice since we got back together—once in passing when I took Mark to their gym and once at the market when I was looking for my butcher’s mesh ground pepper and Ryan was there with his kids, which had led to an awkward encounter.

  So I had assumed Ryan and I were not going to be friends much longer.

  But then there he was!

  I was glad to have Ryan and Amber on board for this party. I wished with all my heart that Stacy would show up, too. But I already knew that maybes were for fools and fanciful wishes were never going to be reality. I’d have to fix that relationship some other time.

  The people at the party were the ones that counted—I couldn’t become my grandfather, who would fixate on the one person in the family who didn’t show up. Focus on the people that showed up for you... come on, Chris, focus.

  ALL OF US WERE OUT on the dance floor, grooving and having a good time. You know I was having a good time by my choice of the word ‘grooving’. I bounced into Mark and he spun us around. I laughed and I drank—probably more than was reasonable. I felt like we were on top of the world.

/>   Then Mark had to put me under pressure. No, he did not request the song ‘Under Pressure’ by Queen... his choice was worse. Much, much worse.

  Mark took the stage and became the deejay for a second. “My partner and I,” he said, using the word that he knew would get an oversized reaction from me. “—are celebrating tonight. Christopher, there he is right there...” he pointed at me with a drunken finger. “Cheese, as I call him.”

  Shit, Mark is not good at giving emotional speeches. How embarrassing.

  “What the hell,” Mark said, switching ideas. “He said he never went to his prom in high school, so now we're having a do-over. An adult prom. Though that’s not right, he did go to prom, but not with a date... So now we’re doing it how we... um. But it wouldn't be the same if we didn't have songs from back—” He hiccuped. “Back when we were kids. So I chose the perfect one for you... I know you'll love it. And REMEMBER!” Mark shouted that last word into the microphone so loudly that the memory of the resulting feedback would lodge in my brain for the rest of my life. “No matter what song it is, we have to dance. Those are cursed dancing shoes!” He pointed at me and glared.

  My hands were over my face to hide my embarrassment. I was approximately fifty percent sure it was going to be Faith Hill’s ‘This Kiss’. Why else had he forced me to listen to it on the ride over?

  It was not Faith Hill and it was not Queen. It was Shaggy and Rayvon’s take on Juice Newton's ‘Angel of the Morning’.

  I groaned as I heard the opening bars bounce through the club.

  Our friends laughed.

  “I like the original better!” I yelled.

  He bounced off the stage to me. “This one's better, my angel. Cuz you are my angel. Closer than my peeps you are to me.” Mark was in my face and grinding his pecs into my chest (which I thought was so awkward).

  “Oh my God,” I complained as my head bounced on his shoulder. He went up and down in rhythm (I was more of a bouncer as opposed to a ‘dancer’). Mark danced like a fool. He spun me around and warmed me up. His hands draped over my body. He glomped on to me like when he was a Sleepy Bear in the morning.