Chapter Seven
Kayden
Ilinger in the doorway, my hands tucked in my pockets, just watching Dad as he sits bent over his drafting table, probably working on another custom project.
I can’t help smiling. Dad’s so old school, still drawing every little detail by hand instead of using one of those fancy programs, where some AI bot does almost all the work for you.
I admire him for that. It takes a certain amount of dedication and integrity to withstand the allure of modern technology, but Dad insists.
He’s always been patient, both when it comes to letting his creativity grow out of his mind and when it comes to letting me grow and find my own way.
But patience doesn’t mean passiveness. Not when it comes to Dad.
He constantly strives toward getting better, toward growing the company, and developing his own skills.
And he was never passive when it came to my transness either.
He never stuck his head in the sand and pretended it didn’t exist or that it would go away.
He never once told me it was just a phase or asked me if I was sure.
He was right there, all the time, like this strong oak tree, sheltering me, keeping me safe from harm, watching over me every step of the way.
“You need any help?” I eventually ask, and Dad looks up, his glasses perched on his nose, fondness building in his eyes.
“No, but come on in, Kayden. I could use your opinion on something.”
“Sure.” I trail toward Dad, who’s gotten up from his chair to grab me a stool from the corner of his studio.
Dad used to draw at his office at home during those early days, when he and Caleb were just starting out, but after they bought the buildings down at the marina, Dad had the first floor turned into two large spaces, an office for him and another for Caleb.
While Dad is the company’s creative source, Caleb is in charge of sales and securing new clients.
He took a degree in business and marketing while he and Dad built their business.
“Is Caleb…” I trail off. I haven’t seen him all day, but then again, I’ve been cooped up in my office, working on their Instagram, uploading some of the pictures I took of their employees yesterday.
I want their account to give off a vibe of one big family working together, because that’s what the company has become over the years.
Every employee is just as important as everyone else.
It might be a business, but it’s so much more than that, and I want potential clients to see that when they look at our website and our social media accounts.
“Nah, he’s in Providence, meeting up with a potential client.”
“Oh, okay.” I relax a little. I’ve been trying to avoid Caleb as much as I can at work ever since he came over to my place.
Things got… weird toward the end of the night, or perhaps it was just me who felt it.
I don’t know. The way I reacted to Caleb in my space took me completely by surprise.
The way I was so tuned into him, to his every movement, to his voice, and his scent was such a foreign experience, and it left me feeling more confused than ever.
Then, there was the unexpected disappointment and rejection I felt when Caleb left.
It’s mostly myself I’m angry with, though.
Caleb did nothing wrong. Sure, he might have flirted with me, but that’s just the way he is.
He’s always been like that, and I don’t think he can help it.
He doesn’t mean anything by it. Unless, of course, he wasn’t flirting, and I’m just making shit up. It’s possible.
So I’ve tried to keep my distance from him, and perhaps he’s tried to stay away from me too, because I haven’t seen him much this week.
If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t know how to feel about that.
I miss him, while at the same time, I dread running into him.
I know I need to get a grip. Caleb’s my boss. I can’t avoid him forever.
“Come on.” Dad taps the stool, and I drop onto it.
“So, what did you want my opinion on?” I look at the table and realize that Dad wasn’t drawing at all. Instead, he has his iPad open to the website of a bed-and-breakfast.
He groans, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “This.” He digs at the screen. “I can’t decide if your mother would prefer a quaint little bed-and-breakfast, or something more fancy. What do you think, Kayden?”
I chuckle because this is the same scenario every year when Dad tries to surprise Mom with something for their anniversary. The years I was away at school in Boston, he called me, groaning over the phone. I always told him what I tell him right now.
“Dad, you know Mom better than anyone. You know she doesn’t care about stuff like that.
She just wants to be with you.” A dull ache builds in my chest, and I recognize the familiar sense of longing.
If I could one day just have a fraction of what Mom and Dad have, I don’t think I’d want anything else.
He shakes his head. “I know, I know, but I just want it to be special.”
“I know, and it always is. No matter what you end up doing, you know Mom will gush about it for the rest of the year to anyone who’ll listen. As in me,” I add with a groan.
Dad laughs in that booming way of his that comes deep from within his chest. “Ah, you poor kid. Must be tough having two parents who actually like each other.”
“It is! You have no idea of the hardship I go through.” I bump Dad’s shoulder with mine, and he winces, “Careful there. You aren’t as scrawny as you used to be, kid.”
“Scrawny?” I gasp, clutching my chest. “I was never scrawny, thank you very much.”
“Right,” Dad hums, his gaze flickering momentarily, a distant look in his eyes. Then he seems to shake himself. “Nah, you’re right, Kayden. You’re right. I’m fussing over nothing. I just want her to be happy, you know?”
I know what he means, and that’s why Dad is one of the most selfless people I know. “She is happy, Dad. Very.”
“It’s just that… we started out with nothing. Those first years were hard. And she stuck by me even when her parents said I was a no-good dreamer and that nothing would ever come of me. And your mom stood by me every step of the way.”
My eyes sting because I know Mom’s parents put them through hell those first years, trying their hardest to sabotage their relationship.
“Well, that’s just the kind of people you and Mom are.
You stand by each other just like you’ve stood by me.
” I’ve often thought about how my life would have been, especially my transition, if I’d had parents who didn’t support me, or perhaps would’ve downright disowned me.
Many people still do that to their trans children.
Shit, some even put their kids in one of those awful conversion therapy camps.
A chill spreads all the way to my bones at the thought.
Dad looks at me, seconds away from tearing up too.
“Of course, we stand by you, Kayden. We made you. You’re part of us, and you’re perfect.
” His voice breaks on the last syllable, then he continues, a rare hardness to his voice, “I’ll never for the life of me understand the parents who don’t, who make their love for their child dependent on things that are beyond our control.
That isn’t love.” His jaw clenches, and he reaches for me, brushing his thumb underneath my eye, and I realize I failed at holding back the tears.
“They don’t deserve children, and you can quote me on that.
They don’t deserve them.” He smiles wistfully, patting my cheek fondly.
“Your mom and I thank our lucky stars for you, Kayden. Every damn day.”
I nod quietly. “Thanks, Dad. I thank my lucky stars for you guys, too.”
Dad laughs. “Whoa, that went sappy real fast, didn’t it?”
I laugh too, brushing at my eyes. “Yeah, get a grip, old man.”
Dad claps his hands together, his eyes still glassy. “So, quaint seaside bed & brekky or upscale spa and resort?”
“Dad, I think you already know the answer to that. Mom would kill you if you spent that much money on a weekend away. You’d never hear the end of it. Besides, she would feel so out of place with all those rich people.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks. Now that’s settled, what are your weekend plans?”
“Not much. I think I’ll just do some more stuff around the apartment. I still need to put up my bookshelves.”
“You’re still coming over for lunch Sunday, right? Your mom wants to try out this new recipe for roasted chicken she found on some Mediterranean food vlog.”
I shrug, smiling. “Sure. Wouldn’t wanna miss out on that. I’ll bring the wine.”
“Great. I’ll tell her.”
“Tell her what?” I look up, and my gaze collides with Caleb’s.
He smiles in that easy way of his as he walks toward us.
He’s in a formal white button-up, charcoal dress pants, and even a matching gray tie slung loosely around his neck.
His usually unruly hair is swept away from his forehead, but a few strands have come loose, teasing his prominent dark eyebrows.
His eyes are locked onto mine, the granite gray sucking me in.
I force myself to look away. Caleb always looks good, but today, like this, he looks like a million fucking dollars.
“You’re back,” Dad says. “How did it go?”
“Really well. Hi, Kayden. You’ve been busy.
” I don’t hear any accusation in his voice, just a carefulness that mirrors how I feel when I look back up at him.
Caleb swipes the rogue strands of hair out of his eyes, and that simple motion alone nearly has me tumbling from the stool.
How is that so hot? Was it always that hot? Was he always this hot?
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Busy.”