Chapter 15 #5
I felt the blood drain from my face as I stared at the image on his screen. There, in vibrant colors and flowing lines, was indeed a man with what could only be described as an anatomical impossibility.
“If this was your self-portrait, I think we need to have a serious conversation about the expectations you’ve set for our relationship,” Harley joked.
“You’re one to talk,” I muttered.
Sawyer grabbed her phone, typing as fast as her fingers could manage. “Oh, I need to see this.” A moment later, she almost screamed while showing her screen to Gia, who gigglesnorted.
“I don’t think that’s physically possible,” Gia managed between gasps of air.
“Apparently, it was for past-life Ryker,” Sawyer replied, wiping tears from her eyes. “No wonder he had so many children. That thing could probably fertilize eggs from across the room.”
I groaned. “Come on, I wasn’t a woodblock porn star in a past life.”
“The evidence suggests otherwise, biscuit,” Mom said, having looked it up on her own phone with far too much interest for my comfort.
Sawyer kept scrolling on her phone. “Speaking of evidence, I found Hokusai’s The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife.” She turned her phone to show Gia, whose jaw dropped.
“Wow, she wasn’t kidding about being violated,” Gia joked, tilting her head as if a different angle might make the image less shocking.
“Yep,” Sawyer confirmed. “Multiple octopi, actually. Very enthusiastically.”
Harley typed it into his phone and began snickering when the search results popped up. “Huh, it seems Maylin wasn’t underplaying the octopus incident.”
“There was no octopus incident!” I threw my hands up in frustration as I protested, even though I couldn’t take my eyes off the artwork. “I’ve never been involved with cephalopods in this or any other lifetime!”
“The historical record suggests otherwise,” Harley joked before putting his phone away. “Although I must admit, I’m a little hurt you never mentioned your tentacle phase to me.”
“I hate all of you,” I complained, banging my forehead on the table with a groan.
“Don’t be embarrassed, biscuit,” Mom said, patting my arm. “We all have our past lives we’d rather not discuss. Yours seem particularly creative, though.”
“Kill me now,” I whispered to the tablecloth. “Just let me die.”
“Not until after dessert,” Harley replied cheerfully. “I need it to console myself, because after seeing these woodblock prints, I’m not sure even I can measure up to your exotic tastes.”
“Should we be concerned about the ‘backup date’ sitting in her car?” Dad asked, glancing toward the front window.
As if on cue, we heard it peeling away, presumably with Baxter inside.
“Problem solved,” I said, relieved that at least one bizarre element of this evening was departing.
“Well, that was certainly something,” Mom said brightly, trying to salvage things as we cleared the dinner plates. “Who’s ready for dessert? I made your favorite chocolate cake, Ryker.”
“After all that, you think chocolate cake is going to fix things?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at her.
She had the grace to look sheepish. “Would it help if I promised never to set you up on a blind date again?”
“Yes, please.”
“Then I promise.” She crossed her heart. “No more matchmaking. You’ve clearly found someone wonderful all on your own.”
“Thank you.” It felt like I could finally breathe again. “And yes, I would love some chocolate cake.”
As Mom bustled off to the kitchen to retrieve dessert, Harley leaned in close to me. “So, should I be worried about being murdered in our next lifetime?” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.
I turned to look at him, our faces inches apart. “Nah, I’ll protect you from my unhinged past-life stalker.”
“My hero,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to my lips that felt like emotional aloe vera on the burns Maylin left during her visit.
“Besides,” I added with a smirk, “if anyone’s going to kill you, it’ll be me for encouraging her batshit bonkers stories.”
“Fair enough.” He squeezed my hand under the table. “Though I have to say, this was the most entertaining dinner I’ve ever been to.”
“Wait until Christmas when you finally get to meet my Uncle Pete this year,” I warned. “He thinks aliens abducted him.”
“I’m already looking forward to it,” Harley said, and the genuine enthusiasm in his voice made me realize that despite the absolute disaster this evening had been, there was no one else I’d rather have by my side through it all.
Mom returned from the kitchen carrying a triple-layer chocolate cake that looked like it could single-handedly solve at least half my problems. She placed it at the center of the cleared table with a flourish. Dad followed with dessert plates and clean forks, distributing them to everyone.
Sawyer raised her water glass in a mock toast as my mother began cutting generous slices. “I declare this the best blind date disaster ever. Mom, you’ve outdone yourself with this one.”
“It’s nice to retire from matchmaking on a high note,” she agreed, still giggling as she served the first piece. “Nothing could possibly top this.”
“We should’ve recorded it for posterity,” Gia lamented, accepting her slice with a grateful nod. “Future generations need to know about Ryker’s illustrious past as an alpaca breeding stud.”
“And his anatomically ambitious woodblock art career,” Harley added with a wink that made my cheeks flush all over again as Mom handed him a large piece.
Harley sampled the chocolate cake, closing his eyes with an appreciative hum. “I’m feeling pretty special now. Apparently, I’m your gay soul mate for the seventeenth time in a row. That’s some serious commitment.”
“Don’t you start,” I warned, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I sank my fork into the rich dessert Mom had made.
“We should embrace this,” Harley insisted, licking frosting from his fork. “I’m trying to remember our past lives together. Like that time in the Wild West when you were the infamous outlaw and I was the sheriff supposed to bring you to justice.”
“But you couldn’t resist my rugged charm?” I played along, surprising myself as I savored another bite of cake. “Mom, this is delicious, thank you.” I may have been miffed at her, but I still had good manners.
She beamed at the praise as everyone echoed their appreciation. “I’m glad I at least did one thing right tonight. Now, tell me more about playing cops and robbers.”
Harley’s eyes sparkled as he gestured with his fork. “Instead of arresting Ryker, I ran off with him to start a ranch in Montana. We raised horses and the eyebrows of the scandalized locals as two unmarried male ‘friends’ living together.”
Sawyer snorted before taking a bite of her dessert. “What about that time you were both knights from opposing kingdoms?”
Harley set his fork down in his enthusiasm. “Yes! Ryker was the stoic knight with a secret soft spot for poetry, and I was the flamboyant one who stole your heart. A match made in a bard’s dream.”
Mom dabbed at her eyes, her own slice of cake barely touched. “What about that time during the Roaring Twenties? You might have been speakeasy owners.”
He warmed to the theme. “Ryker ran the classiest joint in town, all polished wood and crystal glasses.”
“And Harley’s place was the wild one where anything goes,” I suggested, scraping up some frosting. “With feather boas and bathtub gin that could strip paint.”
“We fell in love during a police raid,” Harley continued, savoring another mouthful of cake. “We escaped through the sewers holding hands.”
“Romantic,” Sawyer deadpanned, suggestively licking chocolate from her fork, giving a pervy wink that made Gia her girlfriend snort.
“What about when you were both part of a traveling circus in the 1890s?” Dad suggested, surprising us all. He was always a fast eater, so his cake was almost completely gone already.
“Dad!” I exclaimed. “Not you, too!”
He shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “What? You’re not the only ones with wild imaginations.”
“I love it,” Harley declared, gesturing with his half-eaten cake. “I was obviously the daring trapeze artist.”
“And I was the reluctant strongman who was afraid of heights,” I added, scraping more frosting from my slice.
Harley disagreed with a perverse gleam in his eyes. “Nah, you would have been a sword swallower.”
I held my hands up in surrender. “I’m not even touching that.”
“Quite scandalous for the 1890s,” Gia joked.
Sawyer lit up with excitement. “Oh! I’ve got one. You were both explorers in the 1930s, racing to discover a lost city in the .”
“Competing expedition leaders,” Harley agreed. “I was the reckless American with more charm than sense.”
I got caught up in the game despite my protests. “And I was the serious British academic who thought you were insufferable.”
“Until we got lost in the jungle,” Harley continued, “forcing us to work together to survive.”
Mom sighed dreamily as she finished her cake. “Finding not just the lost city, but true love.”
“What about as chefs competing for a Michelin star in 1950s Paris?” Dad suggested.
Harley pointed his fork at me. “You were the traditional chef who followed every rule.”
“And you were the audacious upstart who drove me mad by breaking all of them,” I countered.
“We had a dramatic food fight in your kitchen that culminated in us having sex on the prep table.” Harley gave a satisfied nod at the conclusion.
Sawyer snickered. “That’s definitely a health code violation on multiple levels.”
“Worth it,” he replied, setting his empty plate and fork aside.
“You two are disgustingly cute,” she said, but her smile was genuine.
Harley feigned a swoon. “I know. It’s a burden we bear.”
“What do you think, Ryker?” Gia asked, grinning as she helped Dad gather the empty dessert plates. “Out of all your past lives with Harley, which one’s your favorite?”