Chapter 12 Kingston
KINGSTON
"Does this look okay?" Merrick stood back, his head tilted, as he studied the small dining table. Technically, we didn’t have a dining table, as we ate on the sofa or the floor, leaning on triangle cushions.
This was a folding card table he’d picked up at the secondhand store down the street. We’d squeezed it between the kitchenette and the bed.
“It’s not what your father is used to.”
Because Merrick was so stressed about meeting my father, it was on the tip of my tongue to suggest we have the dinner at my home. I hadn’t rented out the house in case we decided the studio was too cramped. But that wasn’t fair to my mate.
My saying that would be interpreted as him and his studio being not good enough, and that was code for this life wasn’t good enough for me. It was more than enough. We could live in a tent, and I’d never complain as long as Merrick was with me.
This was us, and Father would have to get used to it. He wasn’t pleased with the size house we were currently building either. Thought it beneath us. I had to laugh at how much better it would have to look after sharing a meal with us here, at our first place together.
Unbeknownst to my mate, I’d thrown money at the project and promised more if we could be in before Christmas. They said it would take a miracle. Wasn’t that what Christmas was for?
“It’s perfect.” I took his hand before he rearranged the mismatched plates a third or fourth time.
Merrick twisted out of my grasp and returned to the stove. “You’re a liar, but I love that you’re pretending this is going to go well.” He stirred one of the pots.
My omega dad was away, probably for months, escaping Father and the life he’d settled for. He messaged me saying he’d meet Merrick when he returned and sending us both his love.
“He’ll definitely be impressed with the food.” Damn, that sounded as though he wouldn’t like where we were living. But who was I kidding? He wouldn’t. He’d turn his nose up, but we weren’t going to hide.
“Your father is the head of a huge company, and you’re going to succeed him. When he sees you living in this space that’s probably smaller than his walk-in closet, he’ll wonder if you had a bump on the head.”
I avoided any mention of my father's closet because it was huge. You could have a party in there, and I was pretty sure he had more than once.
“Merrick.” I removed the spoon from his clenched fist and turned him to face me. “It’s dinner. We’re not gearing up for battle.” Though when I looked at the food he’d made, it appeared we were about to be invaded by hordes of thousands.
He’s made lasagna, roast vegetables, three different casseroles, potatoes, two types of salads, garlic bread, and some other concoction with melted cheese. It smelled great, and we would have leftovers for days.
“But this is your father. When you went to the ball, he expected you to mate with someone with money, a guy who was sophisticated enough to distinguish between different grades of caviar. Not be mated to a bartender who lives in a sketchy part of town.”
I ignored the caviar reference because Father was that person.
“This area isn’t sketchy.” My mate gave me the “you’re lying” look. “Okay, maybe it’s part sketchy.” I removed Merrick’s apron. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks. You’re my one and only, and that’s all that matters.”
A knock on the door made Merrick shriek. He was here. I’d kinda expected him to text me when his driver pulled up outside, saying he wasn’t coming in and he’d meet us at his club.
“It’s going to be fine.” I squeezed his hand and strode to the door, which was only a few steps.
Father stood in the narrow hallway, his towering form filling the small space. His suit probably cost more than the studio’s annual rent, and his expression told me he was about to flee.
“Son.” He glanced over my shoulder and took in probably the entire studio. “Please tell me this isn’t where you’re living.”
“It is, and I’m very happy.” I took his arm, which was difficult in such a tight space, and brought him inside. His expression changed slightly when he smelled the food.
I beckoned Merrick closer so I could put an arm around him, but he was stirring yet another dish on the stove. He waved the wooden spoon, and sauce splattered on the floor.
Father’s gaze was roaming over the sofa bed, the small table set for dinner with the candles my mate had lit in the center, and the boxes lining one wall.
His gaze alighted on my mate, and his eyes narrowed. “Your mate, I assume? He’s human.”
“Yes, he is, on both accounts. Father, this is my mate, Merrick. We are bonded and marked.” That last part was so he couldn’t argue about me not knowing what I wanted and that my judgment was clouded.
“But our family—”
I cut him off. “Both my bear and I recognized Merrick as our one and only five years ago.”
Father slumped onto the sofa, and it tilted to one side, like a boat about to sink.
“I can’t answer about our lineage, but I’ve never been happier.”
He opened his mouth, and I braced myself for a barrage of insults or complaints, but what he said was, “I can see you’re happy, happier than you’ve been for years.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait, let’s backtrack. What was that you said about five years?”
I summarized, not wanting to delve into that painful lost time of my life.
“You’re very lucky.” He held out a hand to Merrick. “Welcome to the family.”
But my mate embraced him.
We won’t tell your father about the tomato stain on his back.
I agreed, and I opened a bottle of wine.
“But can I ask why you’re living here instead of your place?” The furrows on his brow resembled a row of waves. “This studio is smaller than my…” His voice faded as I glared at him because he was going to mention that damned closet. I just knew it.
“That was me.” My mate raised his hand. “I didn’t feel comfortable surrounded by so much… opulence.”
Father nodded, though he would never understand.
A thumping on the stairs and raised voices alerted us to our other guests, and I was grateful for the distraction.
Merrick charged toward the door and fell into the arms of the man who’d been about to knock and had a baby on his hip. “Arnold.”
He pulled his brother inside, and they were followed by his father and Chase, Arnold’s husband, who carried a toddler and held the hand of their three-year-old. The toddler demanded to be put down, and she and her older brother explored the studio.
Father didn’t engage with me much until I was in my late teens, and children yelling, climbing over him and messing up his suit with sticky hands was his version of purgatory.
Introductions were made, and I hid a smile when Father inspected his hands and suit after the kids clamored over him.
“Can you turn into a bear?” the little girl, Rosa, asked me.
“I can, but not today because we’re about to eat dinner.”
She didn’t listen to my answer and scooted toward the stove where her brother, Marvin, was inspecting the pots, but Merrick scooped them up and I unfolded the highchairs we’d rented for the two smaller kids.
Once they were corralled, we pulled out the table, but Merrick and I shared a glance and shook our heads. Five adults and a child couldn’t fit around it, so we spread blankets and cushions on the floor and ate there.
Father swivelled and ducked as Rosa aimed missiles of bread at his head. Poor guy, he’d race home and lock himself in his closet and wonder if he’d been kidnapped by aliens for the night. But it was good for him to see how others lived, not that it would change him.
The baby fell asleep, and Rosa got bored, so she snuggled on the sofa with a picture book.
“My dad says you’re important.” Marvin had wormed himself into a space beside my father. “But Uncle Merrick says Kingston is the most important person in his life because he makes him smile. Who’s right?”
“That’s an interesting question, but I think your uncle is right.”
Merrick reached out and took my hand. “I am.”