I stormed out of the room and into the hall. My blood was pounding and I couldn’t think straight. I had to lean against the doorframe in order to catch my breath.
Mark ran up behind me. “Babe,” he said when he saw me. “Babe, they didn’t mean anything by it.”
I turned when he got to me and started sobbing in his chest. “What’s wrong with me?” I moaned. “I felt—”
“Shhh...” He touched my hair. I hiccuped. “They just want to see us happy. I told them that we were basically married so they needed to welcome you to the family like we were.”
“I got mean and I don’t know why. They were acting weird.”
“You’re under a lot of stress.” Mark was soothing. “I knew you were worked up once you pulled in the marina. I should have taken you away for the day. I never should have forced you to sit through that meal.”
“I—I had a flashback,” I confessed. “This is how we broke up last time.” I was tearful. “It was over some stupid shit like this where I couldn’t figure out how to make you see what I was seeing when we’re supposed to be seeing the same thing. I felt like they ganged up on me and no one can see why I don’t want to get engaged. I’m not crazy to feel this way.” I hiccuped again. “I don’t ever want to lose you.”
“You won’t. You know you won’t. Not over something stupid, and not over something big. We can work through anything. We’ll take on everything together... including this.”
“I just want to go back to the way things were.”
“It can’t be like that,” Mark reminded me. “We’re different now. I know how important you are to me. I know how miserable it made me to know that I hurt you. I will spend every day of my life making up for that.”
I wiped my face.
“I’m sorry for inviting my family. It was too overwhelming for you.”
“It wasn’t that! It’s that everyone is acting so weird. Pressuring me to make a silly commitment. I feel like we’re far beyond marriage... don’t you? Don’t you think we’re stronger than that? Like a spiritual connection. I’m going—” I got a hold of myself. “I’m going to be your companion, and your best friend, and your playmate, and everything. I’m going to be so much more than your husband.”
“Some people like to wear a ring.”
“I hate jewelry! You always say the exact wrong thing!”
He smiled and I laughed at my own silliness. “Are we feeling better?” he asked. I nodded and he kissed the side of my face. “Let’s go up to our room.”
“No,” I said. “We need to sit with them and make it right. How could I act so embarrassing? Damn it.”
“That’s just you being you. Forget about it. Forget about them and let’s lay down.”
“Ah!” I scoffed and hit him on the arm.
“We don’t owe anyone an explanation. What’s between us, that’s all that matters.”
“Your family matters, too.”
“I know. But you are far, far, far and away my number one. I have many friends who never talk to their parents and I was like that for a while.”
“Then you grew up.”
“No. Then you came along.” He was serious and wouldn’t let me laugh off his statement. “It’s true! You made it all much easier. You charmed my mom in a second. And my brother and sister-in-law. And my grandparents. Hell, even my grandfather liked you—the last person I ever imagined!”
“Well, my dad is in love with you, so we’re even.”
“He’s not in love with me,” Mark denied but he was also not-so-modestly beaming with pride.
“He thinks you're amazing. He always wanted a sporty son.”
“Well...” Mark flexed, as if flexing could save the world. “Now he’s got one.”
“Yeah.” I hugged my man. “Now he’s got one. And now I’ve got to go out there and get over this hump. Once we settle back into being a normal couple again, we won’t have to take any of these stupid questions.”
“What stupid questions?”
“Like that,” I teased.
“Like what my dad was talking about?”
“Yeah! What was up with that? Here’s the guy that doesn’t want to have a gay son, but now that he does have a gay son, he wants him to get hitched?”
Mark smiled sadly. “Would that be so bad?”
“It wouldn’t be bad. But this relationship is just between the two of us. It’s just us here.” I pressed into his chest like I was using a crash cart to electrocute him. Mark barely budged—but then again he was built like a tank. “Once things settle down, we won’t have to worry about anything.”
“Bah,” he said. “I think you’d like being married... to me.”
“I think I wouldn’t. To anybody.”
“What’s so bad? Why are you dead set against it?”
“You know why. I told you this a long time ago. Growing up, I didn’t want a boyfriend or a girlfriend. I wasn’t attracted to guys or girls. But I wanted a partner. A companion. And now I have him.” It really was that simple.
“But if you had a ring, then you’d know we’ll be together forever.”
“People get divorced all the time.”
“I would never, ever divorce you.”
Great! What a Boy Scout! How chivalrous!
I rolled my eyes, hard. “You said we won’t ever be apart? And you won’t ever let me run away?”
“That’s the truth.”
“Then what else do you need to be happy?”
“I guess you’re right,” he finally agreed.
“Like usual.”
“Damn straight,” he said with a sigh. We walked towards the formal dining area where we could still hear the meal being finished. “You know,” Mark said before we rounded the corner. “You’re really hard to live with.”
“You knew that before you married me,” I quipped.
“We ain’t there yet,” he muttered.
We entered the dining room and the reaction was immediate, like I had cast an awkward spell over those gathered at the table. Mark walked to his seat near the end of the table and I followed.
“Sorry,” I said softly. Then I cleared my throat. “Sorry,” I said loudly, awkwardly and painfully. “Mark and I broke up because of a silly argument like that, and it brought back painful memories.” Mark grabbed my hand under the table and I was grateful for the solidarity. “I didn’t mean to act so embarrassing.”
“It’s fine,” Martha said, breaking the spell.
“I didn’t mean to get you yelled at, sir,” I said to Mr. Wolff.
“He didn’t get yelled at,” Martha assured me. Keegan leaned over and whispered that Mr. Wolff had nearly been run from the house.
“Well, anyway,” I said nervously. “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Martha said quickly. I couldn’t make eye contact with any of them and instead focused on the silverware on the table—which was actual silver. I gulped.
“I guess... well...” I stumbled and grabbed Mark’s hand tightly. Then I sighed. “I feel like Mark and I are already married, kind of. Bonded. So... I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s nice,” Martha said. “We’re happy to have you in this family. Welcome back.”
My face was on fire and I would have rather been burned at the stake than sit another minute in that room with all those people looking at me and feeling embarrassed for me. Mark and I are basically married... so go back to your regularly scheduled dinner.
“I had difficulty putting a ring on Martha’s finger, too,” Mark’s dad declared.
“Did not,” she countered.
“Oh, no? How long did it take me? How many times did you say ‘no’?”
“We were too young when he first proposed.” Martha blushed. “We were in high school and he was teasing me. I was new in town and the famous Jeffrey Wolff took a shining to me.” She laughed at the memory.
“I was serious,” Mr. Wolff corrected. “Then in college...”
&nbs
p; “We were both home for the weekend and happened to run into each other. Your father was so far above me and my family... I thought he could only want one thing. And he teased me so...”
“I knew what I wanted. But when was our first date?”
“You were twenty-three and finished with college. I was twenty-one and just finishing.”
“And we’ve been together ever since.” They kissed. I was grateful that Mr. Wolff’s story took the heat off of me. “What about you two?” Mr. Wolff said. “I don’t think I heard how the newlyweds met?”
“We’re not married,” I protested, blushing and looking down at my plate. Mark’s hand was on my thigh and squeezing tightly.
“We met after we both ran in the same park in the city. And he offered to help me with my college class.”
“He was writing papers,” I corrected. “I’m a writer, so it wasn’t that hard.”
“And it took me forever to get our first official date, though we were dating for months...”
“Were not. We were just friends. And he would buy me stuff all the time and I hated it.”
Mark ruffled my hair. I relaxed as he smiled. He had lines on the edge of his face when he smiled—from that tiny fraction of his heritage that was Spanish. He looked incredibly handsome and happy.
“I worked so so hard for that first date. Remember, babe?”
“Don’t call me ‘babe’,” I grumbled. Not in front of your family!
“We took it slow. Glacially slow. And then it worked out and it was great. And we broke up over a stupid little thing.” He sighed and kissed me on the cheek, right there in front of everybody! “Never again. He’s here to stay.”
I nodded.
“I’m sure it would be nice to have a ring,” Mark’s father said.
What the fuck! I nearly screamed in frustration. What is with him and this ring business?!
“You know,” Mark said slowly, as if something was just dawning on him. “I knew that if I were to propose, it would have to be perfect, because this one is so particular about everything.”
“Am not.”
“Am not,” Mark mocked with a dopey voice. “And I’m so bad at making plans... so I got my family involved to help make it happen.”
I looked at him sharply. I knew exactly where he was going with that line of thinking and my eyes were shooting daggers at him.
“But just like everything, you had to go and do it your way. Put up your roadblocks.”
“I don’t want to do this,” I whispered urgently. “Not today.” You know how emotionally overworked I am from that boat ride. What are you doing to me? Good Lord, this man is going to give me a heart attack.
“But when could be more perfect than now?” he asked. “You’ve made your declaration to my family, now let me make mine.” He had me cornered and he knew it... but that’s when I was at my most dangerous.
“You’re bluffing,” I bluffed. “You wouldn’t do this to me.” I heard some laughter from behind me, but my eyes were zeroed in on Mark and I could no longer focus on the rest of the table.
“You’re going to hate me today for doing it this way, but then love it for the rest of your life.”
“You’re bluffing,” I said again. “You wouldn’t have bought a ring. I told you not to.”
“Caleb,” Mark said loudly. “Would you go up to my room and look in the top of the black luggage? On the bed. The small zipper. You’ll find a fuzzy, blue box. Like a robin egg.”
“Fuck,” I said, then covered my mouth in horror. Caleb agreed to find the box and ran from the room. Gabby reported to her father that she had heard me use a bad word. I was mortified.
I stared at Mark with big eyes and tried to telepathically beg him not to go through with it. Doesn’t he understand that I’m just gonna screw this up? Doesn’t he understand that I won’t be good enough for him? That he will eventually grow tired of me and need someone else? I will always be here for him—he could take as many lovers as he needed. We could have the most open relationship in the world. I wouldn’t even need to have sex (in fact, I would prefer that arrangement). Just be my best friend, and companion. I don’t need all this attention. I don’t need any jewelry.
“You know how much I hate jewelry... and yet you still got me that necklace.”
“You loved wearing it, you hated getting it.”
“I don’t want this,” I whispered.
He was stern and uncompromising. “The necklace is gone and you told me not to replace it.”
“So why are you replacing it?”
“I’m—”
“Got it!” Caleb yelled, pounding into the dining room. “Got it,” he said again, skidding to a stop next to Mark.
It was a small, blue box, just as Mark had said. Shit. Damn. Fuck.
Cornered.
“Shit,” I said, closing my eyes and covering my mouth.
“Mommy,” Caleb said. “Chris said an adult word.” Denise pulled Caleb away while reminding him that I was an adult so I was allowed to use adult words.
Shit, I am an adult. I’m almost thirty fucking years old. And I’m about to be engaged. Shit, shit, shit. Why does he always have to rock the boat? Why does he always have to pressure me, and push me out of my comfort zone? I never should have given him that power over me! He could convince me to do anything!
“Chris,” he whispered. “Christopher Jester Sullivan. Cheese...”
I opened my eyes and smiled weakly. He was down on one knee beside my seat. I breathed in deeply and held it. We stared at each other for what felt like hours. I breathed in again and held it. I breathed. Kind of. Like, was anything even happening? Was I still alive?
I was so fucking nervous. My hands were trembling in my lap. His blue eyes were boring holes into my head. He looked so calm, and perfect. His hair was sitting perfectly styled—slightly more blond than when I first met him. He had a small amount of stubble on his cheeks, which I didn’t like because it was rough when he kissed me.
Yuck.
“Chris,” he prodded quietly.
I nodded. Just get it over with! I know what you’re going to do! Shit, why did you have to make a scene! Why did you have to do it in front of everybody?
“I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment. And this was it. You always put up a fight and make a lot of drama—”
“I’m not dramatic,” I denied, which probably sounded very dramatic to his brothers and sisters. I couldn’t tell if I was crying or not.
“You don’t want the attention, but you also like it.”
“I hate it!”
He grabbed my hand and kissed it. Then he opened the little box.
It was a ring—dark and there was an inlay in it. I didn’t take in all the details—not like I was going to wear it! If Mark thought that was going on my finger then he had another thing coming! As if!
“—will you marry me?”
He must have said some other words before that all-important question, but I do not remember what they were and Mark later told me he was caught up in the moment and went off script.
I blinked.
I looked away from the ring and into his loving face. I don’t need this. I don’t need any of this. I don’t need your money or your cars or your fancy apartment or this fancy ring.
I grabbed his hand and brought it to my face, then kissed his knuckles. I closed my eyes. I raised his hand so that it lightly touched my cheek.
I wasn’t crying. Not anymore. I drew strength from touching him, feeling him, knowing that he was real.
I opened my eyes and stared into those twin blue oceans. I love you... I love you love you love you.
I gulped.
I moved to the edge of my seat and into his space. The ring was not important to me. Only his face mattered. Only his love. Only him.
I closed my eyes and steadied myself. The seat tilted under me as I moved as close to him as I dared. His hand was on my hip. I traced his arm with my hand, up to his shoulder, his neck. I lig
htly scratched his jaw and once again wished that he would shave that little bit of scruff, but I had nothing to complain about—I usually had some type of beard on my face, too.
Mark smiled when I scratched at his beard. He had the best smile in the entire world. That smile had made him a lot of money. It was such an easy smile with perfectly aligned teeth and his upper lip revealed just enough gums to make everything look proportional. My upper lip didn’t move that much so my teeth looked gigantic. I did not have a photogenic smile—nor was I nearly as handsome.
And he had lines on his face. I traced the crease on the right side of his face, up and down. I stopped on his chin and placed my finger in the divot. I applied pressure and his face moved at my command.
He was mine to command.
It was a funny thought, so I smiled in a half-hearted way.
It felt as though I was living outside my body... like I had no emotions of my own. Mark’s emotions were completely overwhelming my awareness. I could feel the happiness emanating from him—his pride, his eagerness, his... nervousness.
I’m nervous, too. But don’t worry, I love you. I love, love, love, love you.
I used my knuckles to touch his lips. He kissed them. My knuckles traced his perfect, skinny nose. Then I ran my fingers through his soft hair. He often complained about the straightness of his hair and how that made styling it so hard. (First world problems.) My own hair was coarser and sat in small waves and was often messy. Mark loved my hair. He always wanted it to sit just so and he would make fun of me after we woke up because my hair was always hovering over my head at jagged angles. He often said I looked like a disheveled wild animal in the morning.
I love you.
I leaned into his body and kissed his cheek softly. My voice didn’t work at first so I had to really focus on my words. I pressed my cheek against his and whispered in his ear.
“You know I’ve been yours ever since you bought me that suit?”
“I’ve been yours from the day we met,” he answered.
Bullshit! What a stupid thing to say! There’s no such thing as love at first sight!
I laughed with water in my throat and jitterbugs flying around in my stomach.
I kissed his cheek again with a gentle softness, then replaced my lips near his ear and nuzzled the side of his face.
The Fiancé (It's Just Us Here Book 6) Page 32