Chapter 10 Kit
Kit
About ten days into our road trip, we arrived at my friend’s house outside Austin, Texas.
Hal Nakamura and I had met while we were both studying fashion design, and back then I never would have predicted he’d end up on a horse ranch out in the country.
But he’d fallen in love with Ryder, a cowboy with big muscles and kind eyes, and the rest was history.
Hal had never looked better. He was a former model with long, dark hair, flawless skin, and a perfect body, so he’d always been gorgeous.
But now he also looked happy and healthy.
There was practically a glow about him. I didn’t know if that was because the slower pace of country life agreed with him, or if it was because he was in love. Actually, it was probably both.
I said something to that effect about an hour after we’d arrived. Hal laughed and said, “I don’t know about a glow, but I’m definitely happy.”
While Ryder showed Devon the horses, which he rescued and rehabilitated, Hal took me to see his design studio. It was located just a few yards from the main house. On the way, he threw his arm around me and squeezed my shoulders as he exclaimed, “I’m so glad you’re here, Kit! I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Sorry about the short notice, by the way. We’ve been playing it by ear with this road trip, so up until two days ago, I wasn’t entirely sure when we’d arrive.”
“That’s no problem at all. You’re welcome any time.”
He held the studio door for me, and when I stepped inside, I whispered, “Wow.” I’d seen it during some of our video calls, but I hadn’t realized how big it was.
Ryder had it built for Hal after he’d moved to the ranch, and it was glorious—airy and open with high ceilings, walls of windows for natural light, and all the state-of-the-art equipment Hal needed to produce his incredible wedding dresses.
We’d both graduated this past June, and he’d ended up totally killing it at the year-end fashion show.
Clips from his collection had gone viral online, which had helped him bring in a steady stream of clients.
He only worked on one dress at a time, and each was a labor of love with gorgeous, often hand-sewn details.
His dresses were so in demand that he had a long waiting list of clients.
Basically, he’d done exactly what I’d hoped to do, except with brides-to-be instead of drag queens.
Not that I begrudged him his success. I was absolutely thrilled that my friend got to make a living doing exactly what he wanted to do.
He was incredibly talented, not to mention kind and wonderful, and he deserved every good thing that came his way.
He also gave me hope that I might find my own unconventional path to success one day.
He was in the early stages of creating a new gown, and I circled around the dress form and complimented the elaborate corset he was constructing. Then I noticed a cluster of drawings on the far wall and hurried over to them as I asked, “Are those the sketches for your wedding outfit?”
“Yeah, they are.”
He and Ryder had gotten engaged just a few weeks ago, and I knew my friend was going to design something truly spectacular for himself.
While he tended to dress all in black, he’d also always preferred clothing that didn’t conform to traditional ideas about gender.
Of the almost two dozen sketches he’d tacked up, about half featured some type of flowy overskirt paired with slim-fitting pants.
“I’ve been thinking about this for months,” he said, “long before we officially got engaged, but I’m having a hard time narrowing it down. Would it be nuts to make myself six different outfits and change every hour?”
He was kidding, but I smiled at him and said, “It’s your day. If you want to turn it into your own personal fashion show, I say go for it.”
That made him smile, too. “I appreciate the support.”
“Seriously, all of these designs are gorgeous, and you can’t go wrong with any of them. I love the shades of blue, too. I knew you wouldn’t go for traditional white, but I guess I assumed you’d wear black, since it’s your signature color.”
“I’ve made a couple of black wedding dresses for my clients and they were amazing, but I felt like it was too somber for our wedding.
Ryder and I are planning on an outdoor wedding in April, and we’re hoping to time it for when the Texas bluebonnets are at peak bloom.
They inspired the entire color scheme, including my outfit. ”
“That sounds like it’s going to be beautiful.”
“It will be, and you and Devon are invited, of course. We’re planning to send out the invitations next month, right after the holidays.”
“I’ll be here. I just don’t know if I should bring it up to Devon…”
Hal turned to me and asked, “Does he hate weddings or something?”
“It’s not that. The issue is that it’s in April. If I mention it to him, he’ll tell me he’ll be dead by then.”
My friend instantly looked alarmed. “Oh god, is he sick? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“No, he’s not. Let me explain.”
After I told him about the psychic, the curse, and Devon’s family history, Hal took a seat on the edge of his worktable and muttered, “Wow.”
“You don’t believe in that kind of thing, do you?”
“No. I can be a bit superstitious, but that’s just silly stuff like throwing spilled salt over my shoulder.
I’ve known people who believed in psychics, though.
I used to work with a woman who went to visit one every week without fail and based all her big decisions on what she was told. She spent a fortune.”
“Devon changed his entire life based on that prediction, and he really believes he won’t live to see his thirtieth birthday.”
“When does he turn thirty?”
“On February first.”
Hal looked surprised all over again. “He thinks he’ll be dead in less than two months?”
“He’s sure of it. He’s believed that since he was twenty-six, which is why he’s spent the past three years traveling the world and working his way through his bucket list.”
“I have so many questions.”
“I did too, at first.”
“Do you believe in this stuff?”
“No. I’ve never believed in things like curses or psychic predictions,” I said.
“But I believe he believes it, you know? Since there’s no way to change his mind, I’m just trying to be supportive of Devon in general, while waiting for his birthday to come and go.
I’m convinced that’s the only way he’ll ever get past this, by turning thirty and realizing none of it was real. ”
“What do you make of the fact that his dad, grandfather, and great-grandfather all died in their late twenties?”
“It has to be a tragic coincidence. Nothing else makes sense.”
Hal nodded in agreement before asking, “How is this affecting the two of you? He doesn’t think he has a future, but here you are, in a brand-new relationship.”
“We’re not, though. This is just… casual.” That word sounded wrong, but what else could I say about what we were doing?
Hal looked skeptical. “You gush about him, Kit. Every single text I’ve gotten from you since you’ve met him has been Devon, Devon, Devon. Plus, from the moment I saw you two together, I knew you were both crazy about each other.”
“We only got here an hour ago. How much could you have seen?”
“It took me less than a minute to see you two are utterly smitten. Both of you light up when you look at each other, and you never stopped touching until Ryder took Devon to see the horses.”
“Sorry. That must have been awkward.”
“It was sweet, actually. You two weren’t pawing at each other like a pair of horny teenagers. It was deeper than that, more like a magnetic attraction.”
“There’s that for sure.” After a pause, I admitted, “The funny thing is, we haven’t actually fucked yet. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve done plenty of other stuff. But somehow, we’ve always stopped short.”
“Why is that?”
“This is already pretty intense, since we’re together all day, every day, sleeping in the same bed, and having all these shared experiences.
But we both said we weren’t looking for a relationship at the start of this, so maybe that’s our way of trying to apply the brakes to what feels like a runaway train. ”
He asked, “Why did you say you weren’t looking for a relationship?”
“I never told you this, but my last relationship was hell. It destroyed my self-esteem, what little I had to begin with, and it made me really distrustful—although I’ve always found it easy to trust Devon.
As for him, he thinks he’s got less than two months to live.
The way he put it was that he didn’t want to start something he couldn’t finish.
” I thought about it and added, “Maybe he’s also concerned that I’ll get too attached to him if we call this a relationship and start sleeping together, and he doesn’t want me to end up heartbroken after he’s gone. ”
“Is there really no part of him that thinks the psychic could have been wrong?”
“There must be, but here’s the thing—curse or no curse, his dad died at twenty-eight.
Devon mentioned that in a conversation we had early on, when I asked what he’d do if and when he lived past thirty.
He said he’d still try to live every day as if it was his last, because he’s always understood that life is short.
So, maybe all the psychic’s prediction did was give him an excuse to quit a job he hated, and to get out there and live the life he always wanted. ”
“There’s a lot at play here,” Hal said.
“I know.”
“I’m really happy you met someone though, and I hope everything falls into place once his birthday comes and goes.”
“Thanks. That’s my hope, too.”
My friend smiled at me and got to his feet. “Let’s go to the house, and I’ll make us some tea. It’s getting cold.”