The Fiancé (It's Just Us Here Book 6)

by Christopher X Sullivan

  “Chris is moving in with me,” Mark said gruffly, instead of saying something nice.

  “What?” Nick asked with his head cocked, like the world hadn’t just fallen out from under him.

  “Chris is moving in with me. Tonight.”

  “I don’t have to move all my stuff right away. I’ll just take a bag of clothes and my toothbrush—”

  “I have your old toothbrush,” Mark said. “And plenty of clothes for you to wear.”

  “You kept my toothbrush?”

  “I knew you were going to be back.”

  “It’s been eight months,” I said, surprised. I had given up on Mark sometime in March, after I missed his birthday.

  “This is bad news,” Nick said while shaking his head. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” The subtext was clear through the tension: are you sure about this?

  “No,” I said. “I’m here to get my suit. Then we’re going to Mark’s business meeting.” I reached for Mark’s hand. “We aren’t separating at all today.”

  “Nope,” Mark said proudly. “You could take me to see your parents tomorrow, instead of ditching me. Then we’d be together for two days.”

  “I’ve decided to cancel the family dinner,” I said. “Something came up for tomorrow night.” I stared Mark in the face and absorbed that happy smile. The spell broke when I turned my focus to the task at hand: getting out of there quick. “Anyway, just getting my suit. Then we’re going back to pick up my car. Would you be willing to drive my car?” I asked Nick.

  “I’m not driving that piece of shit.”

  “That’s what I said!” Mark exclaimed.

  “Cool it, Romeo. I’m keeping my car. How about Travis, will you drive my car back if we drive you to the park?”

  “I guess,” he agreed. “You’re really with a guy?”

  “Yep.”

  “Shit.”

  “I know. That was my reaction at first, too.” I squeezed Mark’s hand again. “He was patient with me.”

  “Suhail is not going to like this,” Nick muttered.

  “You can’t tell Suhail,” Mark said.

  “Why the fuck not! This is a pretty big deal.” Nick turned to Travis. “You don’t understand what went down last time. You didn’t see Chris after their breakup.”

  “I’m not going to break up with him again,” Mark stated. I coughed lightly into my hand and Mark ducked his head. “I’m not,” he said fiercely. “If something happens, I will always come back to you.” I promise, he mouthed to me.

  That brought a glow of happiness to my soul—we were on the road to rebuilding our bond. Mark practically pushed me into my tiny bedroom and away from the negative roommates. He shut the door.

  “I don’t want you seeing that guy.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Travis or Nick?”

  “Travis, you shithead. He’s bad for you. I don’t want you seeing him.”

  “Oh please. He’s my second full-time coder, I’m going to be seeing a lot of him over the next few months.” Hopefully years.

  “Fuck. I’m telling you that’s bad. I don’t want you to see him.”

  “Don’t be like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Extra protective. Don’t get me wrong, I like when you take control like that, but not around him—not around Travis. He’s a good friend—”

  “He broke your heart. He’s going to do it again.” Mark begged me urgently, trying to convince me of his deluded vision. “I can see that you still have feelings for him. Just in the way you laugh.”

  “You’re ridiculous. We were never more than friends. He has a girlfriend... which actually happened last fall at our book party. Remember how my friends from freshman—”

  “I don’t care,” Mark said. “I know you. I know how you’re going to act around him. I don’t want that. It’s bad.”

  I touched Mark’s face and whispered his name like a prayer. “You’re my guy,” I said. “You don’t have any competition... and you never did. You weren’t there... for months. I opened up a little to these guys. I let my guard down. You’re right. I love these guys. Not just Travis, but Nick and Suhail and Tim and Ryan. They all helped me so much.”

  “I don’t care about them. You didn’t get a broken heart from them. I don’t want you taking Travis back.”

  “I already did. It happened about as quick as I took you back. Maybe it was good practice for what happened to us down in the park. What was that—a couple hours ago and we’ve already had how many fights?”

  “This isn’t a fight,” Mark stressed. “I just want you to see what I feel... instinctively. Remember Greg? Remember what a loser he turned out to be?”

  “Travis isn’t a loser.”

  “He’s just going to hurt you. In the long run, he’s going to hurt you.”

  I grabbed my suit and set it on my bed, then made a travel bag with my back to Mark. I looked at my computer, a cheap replacement for the old, bulky one I had used for so many years and destroyed in a fit of rage. Then I changed into a clean shirt and clean, conservative shorts—one of the pairs Mark used to force me to wear.

  “Are you projecting onto him? Are you projecting your own fears onto him?”

  “No!” Mark was scandalized. “I know in my bones, just like you knew about Greg.”

  “I don’t believe you’re thinking clearly. And plus, Travis is part of my company now.”

  “Company? Since when is this a company?”

  “Since we’ve been trying to get more grants to sustain ourselves, or at least sell ourselves to a bigger company.”

  “You?” Mark teased. “You want to sell yourself? Mr. I’m-never-doing-a-book-release?”

  “I hate selling,” I agreed with a fake cheerfulness. “That’s why I’m back with you.” I almost kissed him on the cheek, but then pulled back. “You’re gonna sell the shit out of my company.”

  “That better not be the only reason,” Mark muttered.

  “It sure ain’t because of your teeny, tiny penis.”

  “Ah!” Mark grabbed me and put me in a headlock. “Take that back. Take that back you little fucker!”

  “Bigger than you!”

  “Fuck you! We’re basically the same length. Girth is more important, anyways.”

  “What was it you told me... every half inch counts.”

  Mark released me. “You can be a real fuckwad sometimes.”

  “Love you, too,” I said.

  It was the first time those words crossed my lips in a long time. They plopped out naturally, which suddenly made things awkward. Mark heard them and it was like a gong had sounded between us. We both knew the importance of that moment. Our playfulness ended in a flash of seriousness.

  “You ready to go?” Mark asked.

  “Are you going to play nice with Travis?”

  “I don’t want you to be around him.”

  Tough. I glared at Mark until he bowed his head. “I’ve noted your objection,” I said smartly. “Now let’s go face the day, get cleaned up—”

  “You need to shave.”

  “I’m not dressing up for any—”

  “And you need a haircut.”

  “Stop.”

  “What would you do without me?” Mark asked. “You’d be a bum.”

  I didn’t deny it. I wanted to spit a quick, biting retort back at him, but we weren’t secure enough in our renewed relationship. I held my fire and both of us knew it, which made me sad again. I was reaching for our familiar banter and had come up against the stark reality.

  We left my bedroom. Mark said we didn’t have time to drive to the park. Travis volunteered to go with Nick to retrieve my car.

  I glanced at Mark, who looked like he had a lemon in his mouth. “Fine,” Mark said after pausing for an inordinate amount of time. “Thank you. We’re going to be late for our meeting.”

  We got in Mark’s car and drove to his apartment. He muttered under his breath about Travis. I just smiled and told
him to relax. “I still don’t like him,” Mark said stubbornly. “One favor doesn't make him a friend.”

  “You’re right.” We took the elevator and then walked into his apartment—everything was exactly how I remembered it. There was the same bank of windows with the spectacular view of the Lake. The beautiful kitchen, lights, porcelain flooring. And then there were the wingback chairs that weren’t supposed to be there. “You didn’t give Grandma Wolff the chairs?”

  “I... uh.” Mark shrugged and used his guilty voice that usually got him out of trouble. “I forgot?”

  “I made those for her. Not you.”

  “I liked them,” Mark said stubbornly. “They turned out really good and they fit in with my other furniture.”

  “They’re covered in orchids. Orchids are flowers.”

  “I know what orchids are. My boyfriend talked about them incessantly.”

  “Ooh, big word.”

  “Learned it from you, bae...” Mark paused in the middle of almost giving me a kiss. We both hesitated.

  “You can call me ‘babe’.”

  “I don’t know. You always complained.”

  “I never complained that strongly.”

  “You complained all the damn time.”

  I smiled. “After I realized that’s what Keegan and Denise called each other, and your sisters to their husbands. And your mom to your dad. And your grandpa to your grandma... I got used to it. I got to liking it.”

  “Did you?”

  “I did.”

  “Okay, babe. Let’s get cleaned up and head to lunch. We’re gonna be late.”

  “You’re always late,” I reminded him.

  “But now I’ve gotta keep my job! I’ve got to impress these clients.”

  It was funny to see Mark so serious... so different. I was proud of him. I wished that I had been there to see him graduate. I wished that I had been there urging him through the long nights of study.

  We showered separately. I let him go first since he always needed so much time to get ready. I shaved before showering so that my face was fresh and smooth.

  “That’s not what I wanted!” Mark complained. “I like your beard, but just not so wild.”

  “It’s easier this way.”

  “You let it grow all scraggly and then chop it off in one shave. That’s not the way to do it.”

  “Next time I’ll let you do it.”

  “Just like old times,” he promised.

  I changed into my suit. Mark was still messing with his hair by the time I tied my tie. I think Mark was upset that I didn’t ask him to tie it. He touched my hair. I allowed him to style it.

  “It’s so long,” Mark said. “Look at these curls. Let me blow-dry it.”

  “Out of the question.”

  He dragged me into the bathroom and combed my hair while lightly blow-drying it. I shook my head and let him treat me like a doll—because it made him happy.

  We drove to his meeting. Mark introduced me as his assistant and said that I would be taking notes, but I didn’t have a notepad.

  We ordered drinks and then food. Mark bullshitted with these guys like he had known them forever. I assumed they’d had many lunches before. Mark later informed me that it was the first time they had met in person.

  Mark was a natural at his job.

  The conversation flowed and I joined in when it was directed at me. Mark didn’t mention the fact that I was a writer, and I gave no personal details. We commented on sports, on plans for the future, on community development. I showed my interest in community development, which was apparently the reason the two men were partnering with Mark’s firm—their large company was looking for a specific type of commercial and Mark was the point man for the project.

  I felt like a waste of space, but Mark was happy to have me. Wearing the suit was awkward—it was the first time I had worn it in eight months.

  Again, Mark was happy so it didn’t matter.

  Mark complimented me as we drove home.

  “I didn’t even take notes,” I said sullenly.

  “You did great. And now we get to have all night together.”

  “Yeah. I’ve got some phone calls to make.”

  “You? Make phone calls?”

  “I know. It’s horrible. What has my life become? But they’re to keep the business running.”

  “You need some help?”

  “No. Not with this.”

  “You never need help,” Mark agreed playfully.

  “Oh I do. I definitely need to... like, clone myself. I need to find another person I can trust as much as I trust myself.”

  “Now you’ve got me,” Mark said, like a valiant knight.

  “I know. I don’t want to take away from your job. You seemed to be in your element.”

  “I like it. Love it—actually. But I’m only part-time.” Mark shrugged and focused on the road. “They keep offering me a full-time spot, and the ladder up to partner was even floated once. I think they really like me.”

  “You’re good at talking about nothing and making it sound good.” Ever the king of backhanded compliments.

  “Thanks...” He pressed his lips together. “I need to keep the flexibility so I can do my modeling gigs. I just had Milan Fashion... wish you could have been there. It’s always a lot of fun.”

  “I thought you went to school so you didn’t have to model?”

  “The money’s too good. Plus it’s fun. Plus I love it. Plus I’m good at it and am still in demand. But I’m not blind. I’m getting older. Not many guys last as long as I have, so I should count myself lucky.”

  “You’re still pretty,” I said. Mark thanked me with a serious tone, even though I had been teasing him. “You’ll always be pretty in my book.”

  “Sometimes I think the only reason you’re with me is because of my looks.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say!”

  “Teasing, babe. Shit, you can’t take a joke. I forgot.”

  “I can so take a joke!”

  “Teasing again.”

  “Oh...” I tapped my hand on the armrest, then sniffed the car. The seats were leather and still smelled new. Mark always kept his cars clean—unlike me. My car was a mess, but it was a piece of junk, so what did it matter?

  “What are you thinking about?” Mark asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on, what’s going on up there? I want to know.”

  “Do you have to know every little thought in my head?”

  “I used to know you so well that I hardly had to ask. I want to get back there. But I can’t read you today. It’s been a weird day.”

  “It has been weird,” I agreed. Then I relented. “I was thinking about how clean it is in here.”

  “You would think of that.”

  “You asked! If you didn’t want to know, why ask?”

  “I always take care of my car,” he said with an arch tone.

  “I take care of mine, too. How often do you see a car with two hundred thousand?”

  “You need to sell that for scrap metal. I don’t understand how you are so messy with your car, but everything else is so neat. Obsessively neat.”

  “I know where everything is.” My arms crossed. “I found all my crap in less than a minute when we decided to leave my car behind.”

  “I say we take it straight to the dump.”

  “I’m not letting you buy me a car.”

  “I’m not going to buy you a car. I’m going to buy me a car.”

  Fucking buy me everything with your fucking trust fund.

  Every conversation seemed to have the capacity to devolve into angry bursts of words. I couldn’t stop myself from sounding bitter. No matter how hard I tried, we didn’t fit together like we used to. Would we ever?

  Mark took up the cause like a righteous warrior trying to smite the awkwardness out of our relationship.

  We parked in his garage and rode the elevator up to the ninth floor. I walke
d in and again marveled at the view. Mark hardly noticed.

  I changed on my own in the guest room like how it used to happen before Mark and I were an official couple. I hung up my suit in the closet, where it had once stayed for so long. The closet contained a mixture of Mark’s shoes and a few of my pants and shirts. I checked the dresser—it was partially empty and the rest contained my old clothes, untouched.

  That nearly brought me to tears. Mark hadn’t been able to get rid of me. I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to calm down.

  Mark knocked on the door. “How’s it going?” he asked.

  “Come in.” He opened the door. Mark was wearing his long plaid bottoms and a plain white tee. I had forgotten how he kept his apartment frigid during the summer. I was in a tee shirt and long gym shorts. He watched me sitting on the bed and I watched him leaning against the doorframe.

  “So...” he said.

  “So,” I answered.

  “It’s been a long day already.”

  “It has.”

  “Do you want to come out and watch some TV? I’ve got the latest season of Survivor.”

  “I watched it.”

  He looked hurt. Without me? He tried again. “I’ve got some old seasons we can start.”

  I held my tongue, which he took for a dismissal.

  He chewed on his lips for a moment. “What about Game of Thrones? I know you watched that, but do you want to watch it with me?”

  “I’m so excited for this season finale. You didn’t read the books, did you?”

  “Babe...”

  “Stupid question. Okay, well, let’s just say they’re working up to the Battle of the Blackwater.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re gonna see. They spend so much money on this show and this battle is going to be as big as that one in The Lord of the Rings.”

  “The one with the green ghosts?”

  Yes the one with the green ghosts... duh. “Yeah.”

  “So you want to watch Thrones.”

  “Sure. We can watch an episode. Then I’ve got to make some calls.”

  We binge-watched the episodes from season two over the next couple days. I was excited to be able to watch them in a legal manner and on a huge television instead of on my ancient laptop, while also probably infecting it with all kinds of viruses from illegally streaming the episodes.