Page 72 of Up In Flames
Do I care? Not really.
I stare into Karen’s cold eyes as I answer Taylor. “In the kitchen, Tay. We have company,” I add, just to make sure he at least covers his dick before coming into view.
I’m not entirely sure I’d consider wearing a pair ofmyboxers as being clothed since my waist is much bigger than his and the waistband hangs dangerously low on his hips, but his dick isn’t visible, so I’m calling it a win.
“Karen, this is Taylor. Taylor, Karen.” I keep the introduction short and go back to reading, assuming Taylor will help himself to the coffee in the pot and whatever he wants for breakfast.
Instead, he stammers through a greeting and tries to leave.
“Tay!” I bark. “Coffee’s ready. Aren’t you hungry? You’ve barely eaten since Thursday.”
His eyes bounce back and forth like he’s trying to gauge how I’m playing this.
Although I may not be ready to send out postcards announcing everything we’re doing together, I’m also not fucked up enough to ask him to closet himself for my comfort.
Despite already deciding I wasn’t going to hide Taylor, the smug look on Karen’s face as she watches this unfold—like she’swaitingfor me to lie—makes me want the truth out there even more.
“Oh, uh, I can grab some coffee when you’re done. Um, thanks for letting me crash in your guest room last night.” He starts to turn down the hall until I stop him.
“Taylor,” I say sharply. “You weren’tinmy guest room last night. You were in my bed, where you fucking belong. Now get your coffee.” Hell, if I can out myself to Karen, I can take on anyone. “When I wrap this up, we’ll move our lunch date to breakfast. Give me twenty minutes.”
The look on Taylor’s face goes from unsure to downright filthy, flirty, and devious. I’m glad to see his normal demeanor return as he reaches into the cabinet for a mug, taking mine and Karen’s attention with him.
He’s honestly so fucking gorgeous it hurts.
When he stands on his toes, it pushes his ass out and accentuates the taper of his waist. It takes everything in me not to utter the words I’m thinking to my ex.Bet my guy is a fuck-ton hotter than yours.
Turning around with a full mug of fresh coffee, Taylor plants one hand behind him on the counter, his fingers wrapping over the edge. “Whatever you want,Daddy.Oh, and it was nice meeting you, Kathy.” He pushes off the counter and saunters back to my room.
I snort at his blatant misuse of her name…and my balls tingle when he calls meDaddy.I know he’s doing it purely to be a brat, but I’m shocked by how much I like it.
The last time someone called me that,I was at a club with Jake, Dylan, Hudson, and Phoenix. It was a girl, probably close to Taylor’s age, and it made my skin crawl. Hearing it come from Taylor’s sinful lips just now, though? Well, I’m going to have to stay seated for a while.
Taylor’s ability to add levity to this terrible situation makes me realize I was so angry and heartbroken over Karen’s departure because it made me feel like a failure. As though I didn’t measure up. I had let her down in some way, and it was my responsibility to shoulder our divorce. But being around Taylor has helped me see the problem was never with me.
I suppose I’ve been missing the life she and I had created more than actually missingher. Just like looking back, it’s easy to see that she was in love with the stability and security I provided more than she was in love withme.
Suddenly, I’m not so angry about it all anymore. Life’s hard. We were just doing the best we could with what we had.
Karen’s accusatory tone breaks me free from my epiphany. “So, you’re gay now? And was that kid even eighteen?”
I hear the door to my bedroom close down the hallway as fury flashes through me. Just because I’ve just reached some kind of understanding and peace with Karen leaving, doesn’t mean I’ll let her walk all over me or abuse my character.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but these days, I view sexuality as being on a spectrum,” I say, reciting Taylor’s explanation from last night. “And he’s an adult, capable of making his own decisions. Hell, he’s a lot smarter than I am.”
The look of disgust on her face tells me she obviously doesn’t agree with anything I’ve said. But she doesn’t have to.
I finish reading the paperwork, sign all the pages, and hand her copy to her as I escort her out.
“At least I get to say goodbye this time.” It’s half joke, half truth.
“Knox, I?—”
“Save it,” I say, cutting her off. “I’m no longer interested in hearing your excuses for why you denied me the decency of a conversation before leaving me high and dry after twenty years of marriage, Karen. You made your choices, and now I’m making mine. Let’s just leave it there.”
She nods, and I close the door, waiting for the trauma to hit.
But it doesn’t.
