The Fiancé (It's Just Us Here Book 6)

by Christopher X Sullivan

  “I don’t want to write about myself,” I protested. “Who would even want to read it?”

  “I would.”

  “Phhst.”

  “What? I’m not good enough?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Fine. Write about me, then.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t write about yourself. Write a story about me,” he challenged. “I’d love to see what you think of me. And not just that stupid porn. Make it a real story.”

  I was very deliberate in how I responded to that challenge... I leaned up on my tip toes and kept my voice in a whisper against his cheek. “They’re all about you,” I revealed. “That’s why I couldn’t—” I sighed. “I couldn’t write when we were broken up. Everyone died. One of my characters got killed by a white nationalist. One of my characters had a tractor flip on his head.”

  “What do you mean? So you were writing? I thought you said you didn’t write anything.”

  “Nothing good.” I looked up and felt so ashamed. “They were all about you. I kept thinking about you, and trying to get rid of you. But I couldn’t do it.”

  “Hey,” he whispered, holding me tighter than he had the entire day. It was like he wanted to anchor me in his reality. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. Nowhere. You can run, but you can’t hide. I will find you... I will always come after you.”

  “You sound like a fucking stalker,” I accused.

  “If that’s what it takes. I’m not ever letting you go.” He gripped me and twisted me from side to side, just to prove that he could. “Never ever. I never should have blown up at you that day. I didn’t want to do it even as the words were coming out of my mouth. I couldn’t control myself.”

  “You always were a hothead.”

  He scoffed, slightly taken aback. I smiled, happy to have gotten under his skin.

  “You’re a little shit,” he said. “That’s why I love you. I want you to believe that I’m going to be here for you, always. That I will support you completely and I want you to be happy. I’ve never seen you happier than when you’re writing a good story. You just sit there at your tablet with a silly grin on your face.”

  “My dentist says I clench my teeth too much.”

  “That’s because you’re smiling and having a good time! Fuck your dentist!” Mark laughed. Then he grew serious again and didn’t let me go. “I’m going to love you forever. I would’ve loved you forever, even if we didn’t get back together. I had been waiting for someone like you—”

  “You weren’t waiting for me! We couldn’t even... we’re not compatible! And you’ve got this chivalrous notion of being monogamous. Just go fuck somebody. I don’t care. I’d prefer it that way.” Love isn’t like a Disney movie. Sex isn’t like a rom-com. It takes time and adjustments. And routines... especially the routines.

  He smirked in that smarmy way that he sometimes got, which made his face look like he had swallowed a lemon. “The companionship, and trust, and love that you give me is worth everything in the world. I’m never going to play with that. I’m always going to be yours.”

  I felt like headbutting him. He wasn’t getting it. I don’t care if you fuck somebody else! “The companionship you give me is worth everything in the world, too,” I mumbled back. Since when was Mark so good with his words and I was nothing more than a stupid parrot?

  “So you’re okay with being with me forever...” he prodded, like he didn’t know what my answer would be.

  “I don’t know,” I said sharply. “You’re kind of a dunce. All you think about is yourself. And our cookie cutter, effortless romance. You want me to write about you in every spare moment of my life. You put A1 on your french fries. Your feet are skanky as hell.”

  “Hell, dude, you put jelly on your gluten-free bread with your eggs.”

  “I used to do it with regular bread, too.”

  “You’re fucking insane.” He took in a breath like he was eager to list all the other things that made me insane. “And—”

  “Okay, that’s enough. You’re a dunce.” I touched his face and moved his head by pinching his cheek. “I can’t believe you even have to ask these stupid questions. I’m your man. I’m your man for as long as you want me.”

  “Forever.”

  “Sounds like a deal,” I said. We kissed. He didn’t touch my ass or my cock. He left his arms around me, which somehow made me feel less small. That ride with my grandpa had gotten my mind to think bigger thoughts... to peer into the wide abyss of time and human history. The Infinity.

  Mark’s arms brought me back to myself and back to reality.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “Christopher Jester Sullivan... I love you so much more than you will ever know.” Mark had used that line a few times since we got back together. It was that phrase that did us in our last go around—not the himbo sex monkey stories that I had stored on my flash drive. Mark had heard me say that line of pure devotion and he knew it to be true. He felt small and weak and unworthy, which left our relationship open for sabotage.

  And now he was saying my own line back to me... and because of his actions, I was starting to believe it.

  “And I love you so much more than you will ever know,” I parroted back.

  “Be more original,” he accused.

  “Fuck off. Let’s talk with your family or they’ll think we’re having a quickie.” I broke from his arms and opened our bedroom door.

  “Wait,” he pleaded. “I have something to ask you.” He turned to his carrying case.

  “No more stupid questions. You aren’t going anywhere. You don’t need to prove anything to me. I’m yours and you’re mine. End of story. Let’s go down and help my grandpa to the car.” I left the room, but Mark didn’t follow so I walked back to the bedroom. “Mark,” I barked sharply. He jumped and looked up like he was guilty of something. “Are you coming?”

  “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I guess.”

  I rolled my eyes and stomped down the hallway.

  MARK AND I WALKED MY grandpa out to the car. Mark’s parents were pleasant and chatted with my parents like they were old friends.

  My dad commented on the woodwork in the home and the tile design and the soapstone countertops (which we both later agreed were absolutely hideous... but you don’t say that to your host). My mother was impressed with the giant grandfather clock.

  Grandma Wolff wanted to give them the full tour, including the off-site greenhouse.

  “A greenhouse?” my mom asked. “Chris must love you to death if you have a greenhouse. He’s had plants growing in every window of my home since he was a little boy.”

  My first houseplant came from a flower basket at my sister’s funeral. After that, I just kept adding to my collection and people would give me plants as birthday gifts—especially from when they went on tropical vacations. I had trees from over fifteen different countries in my collection.

  “Chris has volunteered to work in my greenhouse,” Grandma Wolff said. “I’m glad to have him back in the family.”

  “We’ve got to get Dad home,” my dad said. “He’s fading fast.”

  “And he’s super grumpy right now,” I added. And he’s just been through a horrible life event. And he falls asleep at the drop of the hat.

  “Okay,” my mom agreed. “Are you staying?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “Mark wants to stay for the weekend.”

  “It’s a beautiful house,” my mom said again.

  “Visit anytime,” Grandma Wolff offered. “I love having visitors. Come this Thanksgiving. We do it the Sunday before so everyone can join us.”

  “That’s so nice of you to say.” My mother then got distracted and helped my grandpa into his wheelchair and through the front door.

  “Make sure they come to Thanksgiving,” Grandma Wolff said to me as she pulled me aside for a second. “I’d love to get to know them.”

  “I’ll remind her,” I promised. Grandma Wolff squeezed my
hand briefly and it felt like I was a co-conspirator. Perhaps she was trying to lock me down so that I didn’t leave Mark again? Maybe she was trying to trick me into staying a part of their family?

  Who knows. I went with it. If grandparents wanted to meddle in my life, that was okay... especially if the meddling aligned with where I was heading anyway.

  Mark hovered at my shoulder as we waved goodbye to my family.

  “They were impressed,” I said as they turned down the driveway and out of sight.

  “Who wouldn’t be? This is basically a castle.”

  “Yeah.” I let him glomp onto me and I closed my eyes, enjoying his physicality. “Grandpa had it really hard today. I didn’t know he was going to do that. I think my dad did. I haven’t seen my dad cry like that since my sister passed away.”

  “That’s rough, babe.” He held me tighter.

  “That’s real love.” I looked up at him and kissed his cheek. “That’s what we have, right?”

  “Right,” he said with a nod. “Why do you even have to ask?” he mocked, seeing as I had said the same thing to him numerous times over the past month or so.

  “You’ve got me on edge. You keep making it seem like we might fall apart at any minute.”

  “I’m not doing that!”

  “I need to talk to you,” I said with a gruff voice. “I need to do this. What do you think about this? Why don’t we bring this up... at a suspicious time.”

  He blushed.

  “See,” I accused, pulling away from him and pointing at his cherry red face. “You do know you’re doing it. Why? I don’t have any doubts about us. I feel like we might always have tension because of the sex thing... but I know that we fit together, and that you make me happy.” I was plaintive. “I make you happy, don’t I?”

  “Yes,” he said in a rush.

  “Then why do I feel like you’re acting so guilty all the time? I hate it.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I’ll let you know the next time you do it. Then we’ll see who’s right.”

  “I know that tone. I’ve already lost.”

  “Damn straight. You know you do it. You’re acting weird and you’ve got me on edge.”

  “Ah, Jester...” he sighed.

  “And another thing. ‘Jester’ is what my sister called me and I—”

  “I know,” he said softly. “If you don’t want me to use it, I won’t.” He touched the back of my head and then ran his fingers through my hair. “But it fits you perfectly.”

  “I don’t think you should use it. Use Xester, or Chester.”

  He kissed me to stop my tantrum. “I won’t use it. But I like it. It’s better than Chester.”

  “Enough of that. Let’s talk with your family. I can’t believe they’re all here. What’s the occasion?”

  “I don’t know,” he muttered darkly.

  “See!” I accused. “You know something!”

  “Just let me be,” he said again. “Not everything revolves around you.”

  “This is how you were acting before my birthday and you wouldn’t tell me what was going on.” I stared at his face. “I’m right! I can tell by your face!”

  “I wanted to have a nice dinner with my family and yours. Is that so much to ask? I invited them here to meet your parents.”

  “Oh...” I felt like an idiot. “You could have said—”

  “I did say. I said it was important, but you went your own way, as usual.”

  “You don’t have to get testy with me.”

  “I wanted it to be perfect!” he exclaimed.

  “Is anything ever perfect?” I asked evenly. I touched his chest. “You’re here with me, and that’s all that counts. My mom got to meet your brothers and sisters. They also talked last year at my book party.”

  “This is different.”

  “Yep,” I agreed with a nod. “Let’s go in and be thankful for the people we have with us.” I was thinking about my grandma’s recent passing.

  “You never know when things might change,” he muttered through his agitation.

  “You did it again!” I accused. Then I lowered my voice. “What the fuck has got you so preoccupied? Is someone sick? Are your grandparents healthy?”

  “Everyone’s fine,” he said. “Quit playing twenty questions. I’ll tell you tonight when we get ready for bed.”

  “Holding me in suspense.”

  “Put it out of your mind for the day, please?”

  “Okay.” I kissed him quickly again. “Thank you for organizing this boat sale. I don’t know if it was the best thing for Grandpa... especially since he spread those ashes. It’s a wonder his heart didn’t give out. I felt like my heart was going to give out.”

  “You have a big heart,” Mark said, grabbing my crotch before we entered the front door.

  I groaned. So not the right time...

  “You’re stuck with me,” he teased. “You knew that before you married me!”

  “We’re not married!”

  He kissed me like he was a kid stealing candy from dessert table. “You said it didn’t feel any different. So what’s it matter what name we use? I want to be married.”

  “We aren’t married,” I stressed again. “We’re partnered. You’re my partner. That’s better than fucking marriage.”

  “You can be so set in your ways. One of these days I’m going to marry you,” he promised.

  “Now is not the time to talk about it.” I was thinking about my grandparents again and how they had the longest marriage I’d ever heard of. Would a stupid piece of paper really make a difference? Would our friends be impressed by saying that Mark and Chris were in love for fifty years? Or would they be more impressed by saying they were ‘married’ for fifty years?

  Who the hell cares what they might think in fifty years! It’s not their life!

  I could be so stubborn about some things. (Okay, so most things...)

  THE REST OF THE MORNING was pretty laid back. The Wolffs were nice to me, though not in a familiar way like we had been a year ago. We had lunch at about one thirty so I was nearly starved. Grandma Wolff had made a side meal that was just for me. I sat with my special plate while the Wolffs shared their food family-style up and down the huge dining room table. Mark and I were on the end nearest Keegan and the kids. Mark’s mother was also by us. Kat and her family showed up just as food was being served so they got placed all the way down at the end by Grandpa Wolff.

  “Everyone really is here,” I said, resisting the urge to eat before they said grace.

  “You’re part of ‘everyone’ now,” Mark said, holding my hand. “Love you, babe, more than you will ever know.”

  “Same,” I whispered, not wanting to be overheard.

  “How about if Mark says grace,” Grandma Wolff said from mid-way down the table.

  Mark was happy to be the center of attention. Keegan took my left hand and Mark took my right. Everyone bowed their heads (except me, who used that moment to quietly observe everyone). Mark said grace. He was thankful to be with his family and to have such a nice meal and to be with the one he loved most in the world.

  I wanted to gag and let him know he went overboard, but I was suddenly too verklempt. My emotions were in a strange place and I couldn’t wait to go up to my room to be alone with Mark and cuddle.

  We ate.

  I took some pointed questions from Keegan, then his father. I mostly deflected.

  Didn’t Mark say he dealt with this last week? Why is everyone being so nosy? Why is everyone so focused on me?

  I whispered to Mark, “I feel like I’m the center of attention. I can’t wait till the awkwardness is gone.”

  “Me too,” Mark lied.

  He knew why everyone was focused on the two of us. Mark had promised them a proposal—a perfect proposal. But he had gotten cold feet, especially since my parents were missing and his perfect proposal had been ruined.

  I finished my meal. Keegan and Mark went for seconds. “So, what’s g
oing on with you two boys?” Mr. Wolff asked. “Anything special coming up? Any special dates?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Mark wants to take me to the movies.”

  “I hope you two stick it out this time,” Mr. Wolff said, rather plainly. “I really liked you and I don’t want you breaking his heart again.”

  I felt like screaming at Mark’s dad how he was the one who had been mean to my partner, especially in Mark’s youth. What right did he have to lecture me? Mark didn’t jump in and fight for me, which was unusual, but this was his dad causing trouble so maybe Mark’s temper was rising too and he just wanted to ignore it.

  “We won’t be doing that. Mark and I are committed. He’s not going to leave me.”

  “And you won’t leave him,” Mark’s father pressed. Like I was some floozy Mark happened to find on the side of the road. “How do you know, if you don’t have a ring?”

  “Dad,” Mark said. “Drop it.”

  “I thought you were against gay marriage?” I asked, incredulous. What the hell kind of life was this man living? One minute hating gays, and the next ready to see his son wed to his lover?

  “It’s the highest form of commitment. I can’t agree with the Catholic Church doing the ceremony, but I see no reason why my son can’t be as happy as me and Martha.”

  My mouth was open and I blinked stupidly at the table arrangement between us.

  “Dad,” Mark threatened again. “Not now.”

  “Come on, Marky,” Keegan teased. “Get on with it. What’s taking you so long?”

  “Keeg!” Mark said.

  “I’m not getting married,” I said, much louder than I intended.

  The table went silent.

  “Sorry,” I said defensively, throwing my napkin on my plate. “But I’m not getting married and I don’t want to.” I got to my feet, ready to escape.

  “But you’ll be so—”

  “Shut it,” I said to Mr. Wolff—a man to whom I had only ever shown respect. “I’ve had it. Everyone is acting—” I threw my hands at the table. “Heck with it!”