Chapter 31
It’s only been three days. Only three fucking days since they had unhinged, mind-blowing sex. Kieran’s ass still hasn’t recovered, neither has his pride.
To Ash, three days is apparently long enough to forget about all the possessive, co-dependent, sappy shit he spewed—and did!—that makes Kieran want to burrow himself six feet deep. To Ash, letting Kieran meet the in-laws is deemed crossing a line!
Hands on his hips, Kieran plants himself in front of the front door, glaring like a guard dog warning off an intruder. Except Ash isn’t an intruder, he’s just an asshole, and he’s trying to get out, not in. Well, tough shit!
“Are you kidding me? After everything that happened, all that sweet shit you said, you still won’t let me do this for you?”
The jerk has the audacity to look Kieran straight in his stormy eyes and say, “There’s no need for you to be there.”
“Like hell there isn’t!”
“It wouldn’t change anything. You’d just witness a guy in his mid-thirties being spoken to like he’s a misbehaving toddler.”
Kieran throws his arms wide open. “I could be your bodyguard for a change!” He loves giving assholes a piece of his mind. He’s literally the perfect person to be by Ash’s side for an occasion like this. So what the fuck is the problem?
A stray, ugly thought crosses his mind. “You said your folks are all about appearances. Does that mean you’re ashamed of me?”
“On the contrary. I’d love to see their dumbstruck faces when meeting you.” A smile flickers across Ash’s lips, as if he just imagined it happening.
Doubt disintegrating as quickly as it came, Kieran smiles back despite trying not to.
“Great, so why—”
“I told you why.”
“But—”
“My decision stands.”
He starts forward, stopping in front of Kieran who’s still using his body as a human barricade.
The next few seconds are an unblinking glaring match.
Well, Kieran glares, while Ash has that annoyingly calm mask slapped on.
It just pisses Kieran off even more, and he bares his teeth.
Ash responds with a breathless laugh and an expression that is too soft for a situation like this.
Out of nowhere, he grabs Kieran by the hips, lifts him up like he weighs nothing, and does a one-eighty.
It happens so quickly, Kieran’s brain can’t even process it, let alone make him fight back.
By the time he’s deposited back on his feet, mouth ajar and body frozen, Ash already has a foot outside the door.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Kieran’s brain and body reset thanks to an onslaught of burning rage. “Fuck you!”
Ash smirks. “Later.” Then he shuts the door in his face.
Kieran stares at the door for a long, murderous second after it clicks shut. The silence that follows feels like an insult. He can practically hear Ash’s voice in his head—calm, reasonable, infuriating, “There’s no need for you to be there.”
Kieran’s jaw clenches. He kicks the side of the shoe rack just because it’s there. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. “Unbelievable, pretentious… Gah!” He pulls on his hair, forcing his fingers to untangle from it before he makes himself go bald.
Something brushes against his shin, and he looks down to see Tequila bumping him repeatedly.
“Your dad is an asshole.”
She meows. It almost sounds like: Yeah, I know, but I love him anyway.
Kieran wishes he didn’t relate.
He bends down to give her a pet, shocked that she actually lets him, even nuzzles his hand. Maybe she feels bad for him?
“We can’t let him get away with this, can we?”
She purrs, blinking at him slowly as if waiting for him to share his idea.
Standing up, he turns toward the spotless living room, the meticulous sight fueling his indignation.
Everything is in its exact place, like it’s afraid to misbehave.
Every piece of furniture is set up at a specific angle, and the faint smell of Glen 20 still hovers in the air.
Cat hair is nowhere to be seen either, because Ash obsessively vacuums twice a day, not to mention he goes through a pack of lint roller every week.
“Oh Ash,” Kieran whispers, a deliciously gleeful idea forming. “You shouldn’t have left me unsupervised.”
He goes through the kitchen first, yanking open every drawer and cupboard. But that’s too easy, so he takes it a step further. He rearranges the plates, a small one followed by a large one followed by another small one. A bowl stacked on the very top.
The mugs are next, rotated so the handles point different directions. Then he moves on to the chairs, pulling them out of position by several inches.
In the meantime, Tequila has perched on the counter, one leg dangling off the edge and tail swishing with curiosity.
“Perfect. You don’t mind, do you?” Kieran pretends to scratch her behind the ear while discretely pulling out tufts of orange fur.
He sprinkles the hair all over the dark tiles where they’ll be the most noticeable.
“Good girl,” he coos, getting a headbutt in response.
If this isn’t approval, he doesn’t know what is.
Then, he opens the fridge, taking in the neatly stacked containers, and scoffs.
“Who even labels leftovers? Psychopaths, that’s who.
” He switches the labels, giggling to himself the whole time.
He pulls half an avocado out of a container, leaving it exposed.
Grabbing an open pack of ham, he takes out all the slices but one, returning the nearly empty pack to the fridge.
He shoves two slices in his mouth and gives the rest to Tequila. “Here you go, girl. You’ve earned it.” He’s rewarded by a rumbling meow.
By the time he hits the bathroom, he’s fuming and grinning.
He wets his hands and flicks his fingers against the mirror, spraying it with droplets, then squeezes toothpaste into the sink, letting it splatter like an abstract act of defiance.
It’s a shame he takes ages to grow any facial hair, because he’d love to use Ash’s shaver and leave the sink messy.
Maybe shaving his pubes would work—wait, no, he’s not that far gone.
Yet. It might change in a couple of hours, depending on when Ash comes back. Stay tuned…
Next stop—bedroom. The pillows go first, getting scattered over the floor. The sheets get untucked and rumpled. Kieran debates getting some biscuits so he can crumble them all over the mattress. TBD.
For now, he walks over to the closet, stumbling briefly as he faces his reflection.
He hasn’t been able to look in the mirror without faltering since three nights ago, which makes it very challenging to do basic daily tasks.
Again, Ash is to blame! Honestly, the guy is to blame for everything going wrong in Kieran's life.
He’s also to blame for most of the good in his life, but let’s not get sidetracked. Kieran’s trying to be angry here and carry out his vengeful plot. He will not be swayed. Nope.
He slides the door open, mercilessly removing all the clothes from the hangers.
He doesn’t even care if they’re his or Ash’s, as long as chaos ensues.
He’s on a roll when something flies out of the pocket of the khaki jacket he just threw over his shoulder.
It hits the floor with a soft thud, and Tequila, who’s been watching the carnage from the door, leaps towards it.
She sniffs it first, then hovers a paw over it, giving it a nudge.
“What have you got there?”
It’s not until he’s up close and bending down to retrieve it that he recognizes the distinct, square-ish shape of the box. He springs right up, inadvertently mimicking the bend and snap maneuver. The box remains untouched on the floor, unless you count Tequila pushing it around again.
“Calm down, Kieran. Maybe it’s not what you think it is.”
He really should open it to actually check. Before he can do that, his phone pings with a new message.
He pulls it out. No, not a message—an email. A familiar one. No subject this time, just a video attached to it. After weeks of silence, why does it have to be today that his future self has something to say to him.
It can only mean one thing.
“You guessed it. It’s a ring,” future Kieran grins at him from the screen.
Present Kieran’s ass hits the mattress. “Holy shit.” Ash wasn’t joking when he said wedding bells would be heard soon.
Okay, no need to panic. It’s not like Ash is gonna ask him. He’s gonna wait until future Kieran comes back. It’s all good.
“By the way, that wasn’t Ash’s jacket.”
“Huh?” Kieran blinks, the words barely registering. But once they do, he’s back on his feet, yelling at his phone. “What do you mean not his jacket?!”
Sure enough, upon closer inspection it’s clear the thing would never fit Ash’s large frame. That, and it’s definitely not his style. Not pretentious or uncomfortable enough.
“Holy shit,” he repeats.
“Calm down, I’m not expecting you to ask him.
In fact, I’d kill you if you took the opportunity from me,” future Kieran threatens, clearly missing the detail that killing the past version of himself would result in his own demise.
“Anyways, this is what I was talking about when I wanted you to learn to guard your mind because there was something I needed to tell you. Technically, it wasn’t me telling you anything, but I knew you’d find the ring, so… ”
Right. Makes sense he doesn’t want Ash to know. But this is huge! How is Kieran supposed to keep it from him, especially when he won’t be able to stop thinking about it? One slip up and Ash will find out.
He reaches for the box with a trembling hand, ignoring Tequila’s protest. With a deep breath, he flips the lid open.
The ring is…plain. A silver, maybe even titanium band with no gem or detail.
Smooth, simple, unceremonious. Totally Kieran’s taste.
And very fitting for Ash. Not that he is any of those things—more like the opposite—but maybe that’s why this would suit him so well.
If the ring is supposed to represent a piece of Kieran’s heart, then it’s perfect.
“Look on the inside,” his future self says.
Kieran does, his heart doing a somersault when he reads the engraving.
YOURS
“Oh.” Jesus, one word shouldn’t cause him to have an emotional breakdown, yet here he is.
“This is just a reminder that even when things get bumpy between you two, it doesn’t change anything,” future Kieran says, smiling knowingly. “Ash is still the person I want to wake up next to for the rest of my life. And I know for a fact that you do too.”
“Shut up.” Kieran sniffles. How is he supposed to argue with someone who was in his shoes—literally—two years ago. Someone who was in this exact same place, thinking and feeling the exact same things.
“I know that Ash pulling that stunt with the family lunch might make you second-guess everything. That’s okay.
It will take a while, but you’ll get to a point where doubts have no place.
I promise you, this is the endgame, Kieran.
This is what your life is gonna be, not just with Ash, but with the family you chose. ”
“I didn’t choose them. I’m stuck with them,” he corrects. He’s been doomed since the first day he set foot in that cursed coffee shop.
“Family is annoying. Deal with it.” Future Kieran sighs. “Ash was telling the truth when he said he didn't have it all figured out. Sometimes he needs saving too, whether he can admit it or not. So go get our man.”
Kieran frowns. “What?”
“The lunch is at La Sireni. Thought you might wanna know that.”
Oooh. He does. Very much so.
“And Kieran…” His future self leans closer to the camera lens, as if he’s about to share a secret, and winks. “Don’t hold back.”
The video cuts off, but Kieran grins. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Now, all he needs to do is a quick Google search of the venue to see how stuck up he has to dress to be let in. It’s fine. Whatever he needs to do to get his man.