Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
KENNETH
I've been reorganizing the kitchen pantry for the third time in two weeks, and I know it's become a problem when Royce emerges from their home office with that look on their face that says they've reached their limit of watching me rearrange alphabetically organized spice racks.
"Kenneth," they say, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee that's probably cold by now. "You need a hobby."
"I have hobbies," I say, which is technically true. I've taken up woodworking, started a blog about baseball statistics that nobody reads, and I've been meal prepping like it's an Olympic sport. None of these things have stuck.
"You need a real hobby," Royce clarifies, taking a sip of the definitely-cold coffee and trying not to grimace.
“Things that actually engages your brain.
You've been driving me insane for the last month.
You pace. You reorganize things that don't need reorganizing. Yesterday, I caught you color-coding my book collection when I came home. You rarely even go to your place anymore. Why is that?”
"Organization is calming," I defend, ignoring the question entirely.
"Kenny baby, you made a file in my office for the instruction manual for the toaster. The toaster I don't even use."
They have a point. There's a restlessness I can’t seem to shake. A need to do more, yet in reality I don’t know what more truly entails.
"So what do you suggest?" I ask, already suspicious of where this is going.
Royce sets down their coffee cup with a deliberate clink. "Come back to work with me."
I blink. "I'm sorry?"
"The stadium needs you. We’ve all noticed a gap since you left.
It’s not anything we can’t handle administratively.
This is about the energy of the team. You could set your own hours.
And before you start with the objections—" they hold up a hand "—hear me out.
You're the best at what you do. The team will benefit from having you back.
And you'd stop acting like a crazed domestic servant. "
The irony isn't lost on me. I left my previous role because Royce's family bought the team, and Royce took over my old job. I’d been fine with the change. Truly, it was time to move on. Plus, I couldn’t turn down the Bellports. Not when I’d hoped it would bring me back into Royce’s orbit.
Lo and behold, my hope became a reality. I don’t regret a single bit of it.
And now they're offering me a way back in.
"That's a terrible idea," I say immediately.
"Why?"
"Because we already spend a lot of time together outside of work. We'd be around each other constantly. We'd probably burn out this thing between us.”
Royce takes another sip of their disgusting cold coffee. “Did you forget how this all started? We’ve already worked together. We managed fine then. I imagine now will be even better since we can skip the animosity portion.”
“That’s completely different."
"How?" they ask, genuinely curious rather than argumentative. "We communicate well. We respect each other professionally. You know exactly how I operate. You know the stadium inside and out. You'd be perfect for this. What are you afraid of?”
I lean against the opposite counter, and we stare at each other across the kitchen island. Royce is doing that thing where they're being logical and reasonable, which makes it harder to dismiss their idea out of hand. I hate when they do that.
"What about the optics? Your partner working for you? People will say you hired me back because we're dating."
"People are idiots," Royce says flatly. "Anyone who actually knows us knows you should never have left.
Besides, the position would be consultant, not reporting directly to me.
You'd work with the front office, the stadium operations manager, whoever needs operational support. You'd barely be in my office."
Barely. The word sits uncomfortably in my mind.
"I need to think about it," I say.
Royce nods, setting their cold coffee aside. "Okay. But Kenneth? Whatever you decide, you need to do something. Because if I catch you color-coding anything else in this apartment, I'm hiding the markers."
They kiss the top of my head as they pass, heading back to their office, and I'm left staring at my perfectly organized pantry, wondering when my life became this complicated.
The thing about having a partner who's incredibly observant is that they're incredibly observant.
Over the next few days, Royce notices every moment of hesitation, every time I almost speak but hold back.
They give me space, which is both appreciated and slightly maddening because it means I have to actually think through my own feelings without being pushed.
The real problem is that I can't stop thinking about the stadium.
I miss it. I'd been lying to myself about that for the past month, but it's true.
I miss the familiar chaos of game days, the smell of the grass, the sound of the crowd.
I miss knowing the operations schedule down to the minute.
I miss the team. I miss the people I'd worked with for years, who had been like family.
What I don't miss is the pressure. The constant demand for more, better, faster. The way my inbox would explode by six in the morning. The weight of knowing that every decision I made affected hundreds of people's jobs and thousands of fans' experiences.
But consulting? Making my own schedule? That's different. That's the good parts without the crushing weight.
Still, working with Royce feels like crossing a line in some ways.
Our relationship has survived a lot—years of antagonism in our childhood, the complicated transition of them taking my job, the messiness of actually falling in love with someone you used to hate.
But there's something about the professional boundary that feels important. Sacred, almost.
When we got together initially, there was a deadline to us working together. This time around, there would be no limits. I’m not sure I can play well when I’m given free access to my partner all hours of the day and night.
On Friday night, I'm still turning it over in my head when we go out to dinner with Bellamy, Finn, Jake, Leon, and Maddox.
We're at this Italian place we love, sitting in the private back room, and the conversation turns to work, as it inevitably does with our friends and family, most of whom are in some form of athletics.
"Kenneth's been offered a consulting position with the team,” Royce says casually, swirling their wine.
I shoot them a look. "We didn't agree I was taking it."
"You haven't agreed you're not taking it either," Royce counters. "And I'm just mentioning it to have them weigh in.”
"Why not take it?” Jake asks as he stuffs another breadstick in his mouth.
Maddox reaches over to move the basket away from his boyfriend. “Last one, Jake. I’m not going to rub your stomach all night again, then get fart bombed all night.”
“I’d say I feel bad for you, but I had to deal with my fair share of it during our youth. Little bro had a sensitive tummy for a while there.” Royce smirks at their brother, an evil glint to their eyes.
“Don’t be mean, Royce. Or we can unlock some of your secrets.”
At Jake’s threat, a stare off begins. The two siblings ignore everything around them as they share some sort of secret conversation.
“They’re being weird again, Daddy. When will they stop?
My eyes hurt just watching.” Finn grumbles, scooting close to Bellamy while coloring one of those mats restaurants usually reserve for small kids.
They didn’t bat an eye when Bellamy Bellport requested one though.
That’s the kind of power this family has.
Bellamy sighs. “They’ll go as long as needed. Both of them are stubborn as hell. More alike sometimes than not.”
Leon and Maddox home in on me while their boy is preoccupied. Leon asks, “Why not accept the job already? Especially if you’re qualified and everything?”
“It’s complicated. I don’t want it to seem like we’re only working together because we’re dating. And I’d hate for people to think I’m being favored.”
“Well that’s bullshit,” Maddox interjects. “You had a job at the stadium before. You owned the whole damn thing, if I remember correctly.”
“I did.”
“Then you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You already showed you’ve got the chops to do this. All you have to do is do a good job. You’re not going to do crap work, are you?”
“I’d never!” I argue.
He smiles.
Yeah, I walked right into that. I see it now.
“In that case, it sounds like you’ve got a new employee, Royce. Stop staring at our boy before I have to be mean.”
Royce immediately turns from Jake and reaches for me. I let him tug me into an intense kiss. It’s one I’m sure he wouldn’t have given me even just a few weeks ago.
We’ve settled so deeply into our bond. Our relationship is no longer a question I don’t know the answer to. He’s all in. So am I.
There's a beat of silence before Jake laughs. "You're going to work for your partner? That's either brilliant or a complete disaster."
"That's what Kenny said," Royce observes. “But my little menace is a professional. So am I. We'd treat it like any other working relationship."
"Except you're sleeping with each other," Jake points out, which would be rude if it wasn't so obviously true.
"That's irrelevant to work," Royce says, and they say it with such conviction that I almost believe it.
The conversation switches from there, moving more into what Jake’s men are doing to prepare for the upcoming hockey season. I listen closely, despite not knowing much about the sport. It just seems polite after how invested they were in our stuff.
Later, in the car on the way home, I finally say what I've been thinking all week.
"I'm scared."
Royce glances over from the driver's seat. "Of what?"