And yes, somewhere in there is the selfish part that wants him to look at me across the room and understand I’m the kind of man who shows up, who makes things happen, and who can build a future worth stepping into.
“I don’t want to celebrate,” he says quietly.
Well, shit.
“Being free from Alistair and still doing what you love is worth marking,” I say.
I hear myself pushing, but when the payoff becomes real, it will all be worth it.
“I shut off my only source of income,” he mutters into the cushion. “Can we celebrate when I’m actually independent?”
“It’s not all about money.”
Kael props himself up on one elbow, raises an eyebrow at me, and then lets it drop, turning back to the TV.
“Remember Sharon and Walt’s place?” he asks.
I close the laptop and move to sit beside him on the ottoman, our legs forming a bridge to the couch behind us. “It was like something out of a storybook. They’re sitting on a goldmine, and they’re just letting that storefront sit empty.”
“I keep dreaming of that light in the back,” he says.
“I keep dreaming of that shower.” I bump his hip with mine.
He sighs and buries his face in the ottoman cushion, muffling his voice. “My life is… fucked.”
“You’re okay,” I say, rubbing his back. “I’m here, and we’re okay. Even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.”
His T-shirt rides up a little under my hand, and his warm skin sends a quiet shock through me. We’ve gotten used to touching each other so fast that sometimes I forget how new it is, until a moment like this reminds me all at once.
He doesn’t answer right away. His shoulders stay tight under my hand.
“I know you’re here.” His voice wavers. “That’s part of what’s fucked. I finally find someone who makes me happy, and everything else falls apart.”
“Nothing’s falling apart. And you make me happy too.”
He stands and begins pacing the room. I still need to call that cleaner, but it can wait.
“Why can’t things… work out?” he asks. “Like ever? I mean, we’re in San Francisco, dreaming about Sharon and Walt’s simple life, and they’re wishing they could leave. They saved our lives. What have we done for them?”
Ah. So that’s what’s wrong.
New plan: invite Sharon and Walt to the gallery. It’s the perfect touch, and my mental picture adjusts to include Kael’s delight at seeing these two new friends, one an artist herself. It’s the cherry on top.
I stand, place my hands on Kael’s shoulders, and gently interrupt his pacing. “Sometimes they do.”
“You said it’s not about money. But come on. It’s a little about money.”
“Sure,” I admit. “Studies show money increases happiness, but only to a point. It doesn’t change who you are, just makes you more of who you already were.”
“So Alistair was always a lonely asshole?” Kael sighs. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not, and you don’t have to worry about Alistair anymore. I don’t care if you have any money. I’ve got that covered.”
Kael scoffs, and sinks back onto the ottoman.
“I'm just saying, it’s fine.” I know this topic makes him uncomfortable.
“I want to be real with you,” he says. “In the back of my mind… I keep thinking you want me to stop needing Alistair so that I’ll need you.”
