Candy Hearts, Vol. 2

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

KENNETH

“Cocktease!” Cody yells and throws a cushion across the room, slumping back with his arms folded as he glares unseeingly into space. “That’s some straight up bullshit right there.”

I can’t help chuckling, even though I’m feeling just as frustrated.

Nevertheless, I can’t prevent myself from telling him, “I predicted this last season, remember?”

We’re sprawled on the couch in our apartment, watching Eldertide . (Yes, it’s the space formerly known as my bachelor pad, but Cody moved in back in August after we had been officially dating for six months, and I can honestly say the space feels so much more like a home now. Even Basil seems happier having a second dad to boss around.)

“I don’t care. It’s dumb.” Cody huffs. “Mystic and Beltane have got to hook up already! They’ve been teasing this out for almost a full two seasons now.”

“Yeah, well, ratings tend to drop when characters give in to sexual tension,” I argue back. “And the fact that they’re same sex is an additional risk for the showrunners, too, as much as I wish it didn’t make any difference.”

“It’s stupid,” Cody pouts. “That whole ‘fight scene, fall and land on top of each other’ thing was the perfect time for a kiss. And it’s Valentine’s Day this week. It would have been the perfect timing for it.”

“Aww.” I slip the hand I’d been resting on his shoulder down to his waist and tickle his side. “My little romantic.”

He squeals and squirms away from my fingers. “Asshole,” he complains without heat. Then he points at the screen, which has run through the credits and returned to the series landing page, given that we just finished the last episode available. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong,” I agree, my heart rate picking up because he’s right: Valentine’s Day is just around the corner and it symbolizes so much more now than just a busy time at work for me.

We’ve both agreed that February 14 th is our official anniversary date. We might have started fooling around prior to that, but we agreed to become more than simple friends with benefits last Valentine’s Day. We exchanged ‘I love you’s on Valentine’s Day. It was the first time we ever made love. The first time I ever let a lover sleep over in my bed. So many firsts.

So, for now and for the rest of our lives together, the once-cheesy Hallmark holiday represents the best day of my life.

If only my past self could see me now.

“I swear,” Cody continues, now settling in for a good angry-fan rant, “if this is going to be the final season, they need to just give them their Happily Ever Afters. With sex. Lots of sex.”

I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it, and it earns me a baleful glare. Holding up my hands in surrender, I try to explain, “I swear, I created a monster a year ago, didn’t I?”

He grabs another cushion and lobs it at me. It misses and goes sailing past me and onto the floor with a dull thud.

Basil, who was snoozing on the armchair kitty-corner to the couch, meows in complaint before he pushes to his feet and arches his gray back in a stretch. He lets out an annoyed cat sigh before lightly leaping from his seat and stalking out of the room, clearly unimpressed with our antics.

“Now look, you woke Basil up,” I chide, tsking in false admonishment. “Your own step-fur-son.”

In the middle of reaching for another cushion —I realize I probably have far too many on this couch— Cody hesitates and snorts. “Step-fur-son?”

I shrug. “You feed him, change his litter, play with him when he deigns to show any interest in it…so, why not? Mi gato es tu gato …or something.”

“Your Spanish is terrible,” he tells me, but his eyes have gone all soft and I’m pretty sure he’s lost interest in venting about the TV show for now. “But you’re cute.”

“Would you maybe want to make it official?” I ask him, aiming to sound casual while my stomach ties itself together in knots. “Be his step-fur-dad in more than just name?”

As with everything else when it comes to Cody, I’m throwing out my plans and following my impulses.

The shiny ring nestled in the blue Tiffany box in my sock drawer was going to come out in a few days’ time anyway. I had planned to take Cody to dinner —to the diner where we’d first met up and started the friendship which would eventually completely change my life— and propose to him there on Valentine’s Day, but this feels so much more organic.

No, it’s not on the actual date of our anniversary, but that hardly matters.

We are sitting on the same couch where we first started fooling around, having watched the TV show which brought us together just over a year ago. Just like back then, when I threw caution to the wind and suggested we hook up, I’m doing this because I want it. I need it.

I need Cody.

Forever.

If he’ll have me.

I watch as his eyes widen, still so adorably innocent despite all the filthy things we’ve done together over the past year, and his mouth moves soundlessly. Blinking fast, he finally manages to say, “Are…are you asking?—?”

“Will you marry me, Cody?”

“Oh my God,” he breathes.

“That’s not an answer.”

“I can’t believe you’re asking me while we’re both in sweatpants. I have Dorito dust on my T-shirt!” He wipes frantically at the spot in question.

“I can get you naked and ask you again?”

The corner of his lips twitches upward. “You really think that’s better ?” I start to leer, and he holds his hand up to silence me, laughing. “No, don’t answer that.”

“I’m still waiting for you to answer my question.”

Before I can blink, I have a lap full of my best friend’s son, who also happens to be the love of my life. He kisses me sweetly, cupping my bearded jaw between his palms. “The answer will always be yes, Ken. Even if we can’t seem to do any of these things the normal way.”

“Normal is overrated,” I insist. “I like our way.”

Cody nuzzles his nose against mine and sighs. “Me too.” He leans back after a moment, and there’s a cheeky glint in his eye. “Now which one of us is the romantic?”

A year or so ago, I never would have imagined I would fit that description. Now? I’ll wear it with pride. Nevertheless, I smack Cody’s ass a little and ask, “Do you want me to go and get your ring or not?”

“There’s a ring?” he asks, blinking as the cheeky smile slips from his face, only to be replaced by shock again. “I thought this was a spontaneous proposal.”

“Well, it was impulsive in that I planned to be a bit more romantic with it?—”

“See! You’re the romantic!”

“—but I decided I wanted to marry you months ago.”

His smile turns soft. “Awww,” he says, before smirking again and cocking his head to the side. “Did you ask my dad’s permission?”

I can’t help but tilt my head back and laugh at the absurdity of the question. “What? Like you’re not an adult in charge of your own life?”

“You’re totally still afraid of his disapproval,” he replies teasingly. “Admit it.”

“I am not.”

“You are!” He laughs and shakes his head. “Is that why you insist on staying at an Airbnb for holidays and stuff? You think my dad will make us sleep in separate bedrooms?”

“I think Mike appreciates that he doesn’t have to hear you screaming my name at night.”

“And sometimes in the mornings.”

I nod, my fingers flexing on his ass. “And sometimes in the mornings.”

Chuckling, he shuffles off my lap and extends his hand, tugging me to my feet. “Let’s go get my ring and celebrate, then,” he changes the subject.

Already half-hard from having him in my lap, I am totally on board with celebrating .

It’s not until we’re sprawled in bed, sweaty and panting and curled around each other’s naked bodies, that I feel his lips curl into another smirk where they are pressed up against my chest.

“What?” I ask.

“I just realized,” he begins lightly, “that by getting married, you’re going to be Dad’s son-in-law.”

I groan. I hadn’t actually thought about that. Mike will have a field day once he realizes it, too.

“Is it too late to take it back?” I joke.

Cody snorts and snuggles in closer. “It was too late the moment you rescued me from a handsy Grindr date.”

It still blows my mind that a text from an unknown number could have led to this. To a future which promises love and happiness. But I’m so glad I followed my impulses then, and that I’ve continued to do so where Cody is concerned.

“I guess I can live with that,” I tell him, earning myself a playful thwack of his palm to my chest.

“I can still call Brad,” he threatens, and I growl.

“Don’t you dare. You’re all mine, Cody Barratt.”

Letting out a happy little sigh, he kisses my shoulder and says, “And you’re all mine, Silver Fox Ken.”

I still like the sound of that.

The End