by Xavier Neal
I watch him head my direction offer him a smile in return, fingers finally letting go of the necklace. “How was the gym?”
“Unnecessary after two days of shagging the hell out of you, but refreshing since this is the longest I’ve gone without working out.” He stops beside me and leans down to plant a soft kiss on my lips. Kellan pulls back and tries to tempt, “I’m thinking of a naked soak in the hot tub. Care to join me?”
My bottom lip slips between my teeth at the image of him sprawled in the water like a Greek God waiting to be worshipped.
Like a Doctenn version of Hercules. Little less bulky, but twice as a delicious. Was I the only one who envied Meg in the cartoon?
He flashes me a winning expression. “Is that a yes?”
“Well it’s not a no…”
Kellan lightly laughs, which instantly swells my chest.
God, I’ve missed that sound. How it’s possible such a tiny thing like someone’s laugh can have such a tremendous effect is incredible. I hope the rest of our lives these feelings only amplify.
“So, I got good news,” I announce, turning my body completely towards his.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I have an interview Monday for an assistant position at McCormick and McCordick. I would be working in the art hosting division. They do events like the one we met at. They host galas and fundraisers. It’s an amazing opportunity.”
Kellan face uncharacteristically falls.
Strange…
Casually I add, “I really hope I get it...”
My fiancé remains quietly rooted in place.
Unsure of why, I tease in an effort to lighten things back up. “This is the part where you say ‘I hope you get it too, love.’.” When he remains silent rather than mocking my intentionally shitty accent, I fold my arms across my chest, and question. “Why are you not even remotely happy about this? Did you sleep with the head of the company or something?”
“No.”
There’s a relief. Talk about adding awkwardness to an interview. Can you imagine how uncomfortable it would feel to know your future husband has slept with your potential bosses, boss?
“Then why do you look unhappy?”
He lets out a deep breath and shoves his hands into his gym shorts pockets. “Because you can’t take that job.”
“I’m sorry your accent seems to have led to some sort of misinterpretation of the words coming out of your mouth. You wanna try that again?”
He doesn’t hesitate, “You cannot take that job, Brie.”
Okay so, his beautiful accent isn’t actually getting in the way. His out dated views are.
“And why not?” I snap loudly. “You think just because we’re going to get married I shouldn’t work? I shouldn’t have something to do outside of looking pretty with a crown on my head?!”
“You don’t wear an actual crown,” he quietly argues.
“Really?” I bite. “That’s what you’re taking away from that sentence?”
Kellan presses his lips together in what appears to be an attempt to remain calm. “Brie, you are more than welcome to work. I would never encourage you not to. That’s your right. You worked for practically a decade for a degree and I believe you damn well are entitled to the right to use it-”
“Thank you.”
“But-”
“There shouldn’t be a but.”
“But,” he reiterates louder. “If that job is here in the states, which I am assuming it is, you cannot take it.”
My mouth cracks open to argue.
“Marrying me means we will live in Doctenn. It means whatever career you choose to have either has to be capable of primarily working from home or stationed there. We can travel to the states all you desire, but we cannot live here. You cannot have a job that requires that you do.”
Alarm settles deep in my chest. “That’s awfully selfish of you.”
He fumbles back as if the blow was painfully physical. “Selfish? You’re calling me selfish?”
“Yes!” I shout in return. “I basically have a chance at my ideal job, working for a company some people spend their entire lives just wishing to get an interview from, and you’re telling me if I have to choose between you and it! Make a choice between the man I love or my chance at a real career. My career, Kellan! The one thing I’ve worked my entire life for!”
His eyebrows dart down in anger. “You have to choose? There’s an actual consideration to be made?” Without waiting for me to speak, he shouts, “Love should always win! Always! I was willing to give up my name, my family, my country, my entire bloody life for you and you won’t give up a hypothetical job for me, yet that somehow makes me the selfish one?!”
I cringe at the terrible way he made it sound.
Don’t say he has a good point!
“Kellan-”
“No,” he promptly cuts me off. “I cannot believe we’re having this bloody conversation.” He shakes his head and sighs, “Sunday morning we arrive in Doctenn to make an official announcement that the second son of King Kenneth Kenningston shall be married by the end of year. There will be a party in our honor that evening.”
Baffled at the new information, I throw my hands in the air. “And when did this get decided? And why didn’t I have a say?”
“Because there are certain traditions, I can and am willing to break for you, but denying the people in my country the opportunity to rejoice in one of the happiest moments of my entire life is not one of them.”
Hm. Didn’t consider it like that…But still. Shouldn’t I have gotten a say in some part of this?
“What about my family? My friends? What if this isn’t how I wanted to handle announcing it? I mean the picture thing on Instagram was adorable, but what if I wanted to go through picking out the engagement announcements and save the date cards? Is this entire wedding…hell, marriage for that matter going to be about what the Kenningston name wants or about what we want Kellan?”
A hurt look hardens on his face. “I want the love of my life, the one I was almost exiled for, to be willing to sacrifice for me in return.” He pauses briefly before he states, “There are going to be numerous responsibilities and expectations for both of us that lay ahead. We will not agree with all of them and we will not fulfill all of them either. But make no mistake, Brie, there are certain moments I intend to honor for the sake of my mother. Things I will grit my teeth through to preserve her memory. This includes making the formal announcement the first Sunday after the engagement has been made.” Kellan lets out another deep sigh, his frustration clearly escalating. “I need some air.”
My mouth moves in an attempt to stop him, yet nothing comes out.
When the door slams shut with him on the other side of it, I plop down onto the couch with a combination of dissatisfaction and defeat.
Seems a little early in the engagement to be fighting, doesn’t it? Was this a mistake? Should we have taken things a little slower? Am I really that much of a bitch for trying to choose a job, a job I don’t even know if I’m going to get by the way, over him? He really wasn’t saying he needed me to be a doormat, trophy wife. Hell, he wasn’t actually asking that much from me for the announcement either. No, my father shouldn’t fly right now and my mother can’t leave him, but Kellan wasn’t saying we couldn’t have another celebration to allow them to partake in. One that we planned. In fact, he didn’t deny me anything and all I did was assume that’s what he was going to do. And he’s right. He was willing to give up everything he knows for me, but I can’t handle passing on this one career chance that might not even be a good fit. Ugh. Epic fiancé failure is so all on me.
I reach for my cold pint the bartender just placed down.
Oh, please don’t bother judging me for having a beer in the middle of the afternoon. It’s not as if I’m sucking back whiskey like my father was before the clock even struck noon. This is merely something to accompany watching the lacrosse match on television. Which, speaking of,
I think it’s the strangest thing I have to request it be played on the screen at most bars here in the states. Add that as another reason why The Silver Tap Pub is my favorite in Highland. Not only do they have my favorite beer, but they also have worldwide sports playing, not just what’s popular to Americans.
Hugh slides on the stool next to me and immediately laughs. “Are you seriously wearing a baseball cap?”
After I finish my sip, I adjust it, and reply, “I didn’t exactly have time to shower.”
“Do you have unwashed hair out in public?” he continues to tease as he lifts his finger and points to my drink in a nonverbal attempt to request the same. “Did your maid take the day off? Do you not know how to shop for your own shampoo?”
I flash him my middle finger and have another drink.
Hugh let’s his eyes sweep over my attire before he adds, “And you’re wearing gym clothes?!” His voice lowers to a mocking whisper. “Do your suits know you’re having an affair?”
Why are you laughing? It honestly wasn’t that funny.
“I invited you here to have a pint, not take punches at my wardrobe.”
“Oh please,” he brushes off at the same time the bartender places a beer in front of him. “If I had a dollar for every insult you’ve given my choice of attire from this past year alone, I could probably buy Dana an engagement ring in cash without having to even reach for my debit card.” Once he has a sip of his own beverage, he states, “Congratulations by the way.”
I grumble under my breath, “Yeah…Thanks…” He gives me a questionable look to which I retort, “And on the record, your shoes are an abomination in comparison to the thousand-dollar suit you’re wearing. They look like they were recommended by an orthopedic surgeon.”
Hugh shakes his head. “Not in the asshole clothes, but still the same asshole charm.”
I smirk and finally face him. “You can take the asshole out of the clothes and he’ll still be dressed better than you.”
“Now that you seem a little more like yourself, what was with the blow off from my congrats about your wedding?”
My mood dampens again and I turn my attention back to the television.
“Dana saw your ‘adorable’ announcement on IG and then we got the invite for the engagement party yesterday.” There’s a small pause to allow for my input, yet when it doesn’t occur he adds, “Sophia sent it. Dana was pissed we couldn’t make your birthday party, so I had to swear we would attend this.”
Without completely thinking it through, I grunt, “That’s if there is even an engagement to celebrate.”
Shit. That was actually meant for you.
“What?” Hugh quickly questions. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means….” My head bobs back and forth before landing his direction. “We got into an argument-”
“Which explains why you’re here sulking.”
“I’m not sulking. I just needed some air.”
“Some air? That’s why your security detail is in the corner watching your every move? Because you were only going to step out for a minute? For some ‘air’?”
Observant bastard….
“How’d you fuck up?”
“Why is it when couples fight it’s always the man that gets blamed?”
He reaches for his glass at the same time he informs, “Because it’s usually our fault. We typically say something that sounded okay in our head but is shitty out loud. Or it gets misinterpreted between the brain and the mouth. Either way, 86% of the time it’s our fault or at least it is according to the article on Empowered Women 411 Dana read to me after our latest disagreement. So…what’d you do?”
I watch him take a drink. “Nothing.”
His eyebrows furrow in disbelief.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then why isn’t she here with her best friend crying into cosmos?”
“I’m not crying.”
He chuckles to himself at his own joke.
I know. But how about we just let him have it. He’s never been much of a comedian.
“We got into an argument about a job interview she has on Monday.”
“But your engagement party is Sunday, in another country-”
“Thank you, Sheriff Obvious, would you like to report anything else?”
Hugh twitches a glare and it’s my turn to smirk.
See. That’s how it’s done. What? You totally smiled at my remark!
I lean forward to rest my arms on the bar. “When I told her she couldn’t take it, she exploded, called me selfish for making her choose between her career and our relationship. Apparently, I’m not worth immediately being chosen over some job she doesn’t even have yet.”
To my surprise, Hugh asks, “What kind of job?”
Annoyed, I snap, “Does it bloody matter?!”
“A bit.” He shrugs. “If she’s not choosing you over shoveling cow shit, then yeah, that’s definitely an issue. But if it’s a dream job she’s always wanted, I can see where she’s coming from.”
Consternation cakes my face. “Are you bloody kidding me? I was willing to give up my entire life for her, but she’s not willing to give up a possible job for me, and that’s alright?”
“You were willing to do that in theory, but she has to do this in actuality.”
“But-”
“Kellan, it’s one thing to be willing to do something and a completely different one to have to actually do it. Sure, you were willing to let it all go for her when it boiled down to the basics, but you were given an opportunity to more or less have it all. Brie’s about to actually give up everything she’s ever known to marry you. We’re talking everything. Her country. Her traditions. Her friends. Time with her fucking family. All of those things, just to spend her life with you. To be in your world. So yeah, I get that she’s a little pissed off over losing the one thing she had a chance of holding onto. She’s giving up a shit ton of independence to play part time princess and dumbed down duchess. I can’t blame her for fighting for the little freedom that’s left within her control.”
Baffled by his explanation, I turn around, and let my head fall forward.
God, I am a selfish asshole. I didn’t even stop to consider those things. Hugh’s absolutely right and that tastes like vinegar to have to admit.
I let out an exasperated sigh and look back at him. “You sound like Kristopher, you know that?”
“He is the smarter Kenningston. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You shouldn’t. I was merely expressing what a total chick you sound like. Seriously, where was I during the ‘How to Be a Giant Pussy’ seminar?”
“Down the hall at “How to Be a Douche For Dummies”,” he retorts.
With a small chuckle, I reach for my beer, and nod at his humorous comeback.
After I take another drink, he asks, “Gonna head back now with your tail tucked between your legs or finish watching the match first?”
“Definitely the match,” I reply and flag the bartender over. “Hungry? Burger and Chips? It’s on me.”
Hugh loosens his tie and nods. “Sure. I’ll have a burger and fries. Watch New Grenchdoul annihilate Westburg. Just like I did you in this discussion.”
A grunt leaves me. “Westburg never loses to New Grenchdoul. Ever.”
“There’s always a first for everything…”
I try not to sneer at his double-sided comeback.
It’s not a first for me to admit I’m wrong. In fact, in the course of our relationship I’ve admitted that more times than I care to own up to, but I damn sure am not going to admit he’s right to his face. That would be just an unnecessary shift in the balance of our friendship. Next thing you know he’d be expecting me to admit I’m wrong about shoes and how his actually do match. Which they don’t. Seriously. Look at them. It’s like he stole them from an 80-year-old in an infomercial who was trying to sell them. Hugh may be right about women more often than me, but I’ll always be righ
t about men’s fashion. Guaranteed.
Cautiously, I enter our penthouse, the expectation of something to be lodged at my head quite large.
I’ve seen the films. Women throw things when they’re angry...Well, no. Soph doesn’t. But she does have a look like that makes me wonder if she’s slipped something into my brother’s dessert when he wasn’t watching.
“Brie?” I call out, slightly surprised she’s not watching television in the living room. When there’s no immediate response, I push down the panic over the idea of her having left on a permanent basis, and shout again, “Love!”
