70. Kendall
Kendall
“Come on,” Kai urges, tugging my hand. I follow him with a smile wordlessly and sashay up the long steps behind him.
We enter the Bates room hand in hand and my jaw nearly hits the floor again.
There’s at least a hundred neatly set tables all decorated with tall flower centerpieces.
Vivid blues and bright purples and softer pinks are mixed in with vines and greenery to create stunning bouquets that paint the circular tables in a sunset of colors.
There are uniformed waiters and servers hustling back and forth between guests and the bar.
The two bars stand on either side of the room, a few people lining up to receive signature drinks and glasses of top shelf alcohol.
And right in the middle of the opulent hall is a fifteen-piece live band, a decent sized dance floor positioned right in front of it.
Every person I let my gaze linger on is wearing an item of clothing that costs more than my monthly rent. Myself included.
Kai stares at me while I stare in awe at my surroundings. His fingers still woven in mine, he finally says, “Let’s find our table.”
Our table it turns out is in the perfect location, sitting equidistant between the band and bar, with easy access to the restrooms. Jonah and his date, Mindy, Jax and Emma, and two guests we have yet to meet are also seated with us.
Jonah greets Kai with a hug and a slap on the back before he introduces us to his date.
Shortly after we sit down, appetizers and bread appear on the table followed by a fresh caprese salad. Kai’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket aggressively. I watch as he pulls it out and ignores the call.
“It’s just Aiden,” he tells me unphased. “I’ll call him back tomorrow.”
“Did you ever figure out what was going on with him? When you said he was acting strange?” I wonder.
“Not really. Jenna had a little insight, but I think he has some deep gambling bets. Maybe some other stuff he’s dealing with.”
“Hmm,” I murmur as I cut into my steak.
I’m at the bar waiting for my long island when I realize the bartender is staring at me.
I guess glaring is more like it. His lips are pursed and his jaw is clenched like he tastes something bitter.
If he grinds his teeth any harder, they might turn to dust. He shakes the drink tumbler, his cold assessing eyes never leaving my face.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, curious and emboldened. He stalks closer to me, slowly coming to stand at the end of the bar I’m perched in front of.
“Just wondering why a Black queen like yourself wouldn’t choose to be with a Black king, that’s all.” The only reason this man does not have an imprint of my rings on his cheek is because he too is Black. Tall, dark, objectively handsome. As well as arrogant and incredibly stupid, I surmise.
“Excuse me?” I rear back dumbfounded.
“Did I stutter?” he presses and I feel like I might choke on my own saliva. Fury courses through my blood, hot and ruinous.
“No, I’m just appalled that you would ask that,” I manage to reply. We’d been on the receiving end of distasteful comments and judgmental looks before. That wasn’t new. But never, never has anyone deemed Kai unworthy, inferior. That spot had always been reserved for me.
Kai appears at my side a moment later. Kai, who encompasses my entire childhood.
Kai, who fills me up. Who makes me whole, who loves me even when I can’t love myself.
Who forgave me even when I didn’t deserve it.
This man would go to war for me any day of the week and he has.
Because what were the last three years we spent apart, if not war?
It certainly wasn’t peace. And this prick has the audacity to judge our relationship?
“Everything okay?” Kai asks, placing his large hand at the small of my back, sending little shivers of heat down my spine. The bartender clocks his movements, his eyes trailing from Kai’s hand to my face.
“Yeah, everything is fine,” I respond. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for a drink anymore,” I say, moving to turn around and pull Kai along with me.
“You know what, no. Everything isn’t fine,” I declare while abruptly facing the bartender.
“Marcus here seems to think he knows more about our relationship than we do,” I explain to Kai.
I feel Kai’s posture stiffen, his hand flex against my hip.
Kai’s gorgeous eyes flare with heat and I preemptively place a palm on his chest to prevent him from leaning over the bar and grabbing Marcus by the collar.
Marcus proceeds to hold his hands up as if in surrender.
“Listen, I didn’t mean anything—"
“I’m not really sure why our relationship is any of your goddamn business, why it’s so insulting or unpalatable to you. But I have news for you: this man is my best friend, love of my life, and father of my child. And as far as I’m concerned, you can choke on our fucking relationship, okay?”
Who the hell did this guy think he was, that he could judge the worth of our love.
It wasn’t the first time Kai and I had experienced something like this.
But this is definitely the first time someone has been this blatantly aggressive about it.
As if Kai and I being together is that hard to comprehend.
As if we can’t possibly belong together because he’s Japanese and Hawaiian and I’m Black.
It makes me feel like our relationship is wrong, even though I know in my bones everything about it is right.
I am seething. People always needed a reason to destroy love in all its shapes, forms, and colors.
That much hasn’t changed. I’m not sure it ever will.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
“Come on, Kai,” I urge him while tugging his arm to lead him away from the bar.
Desperately needing some air, Kai and I decide to take a stroll around the building and through the courtyard. We’re walking along the edge of the fountain, his shoulder curled around mine. It’s a perfect spring evening, warm with a slight breeze in the air.
“Doesn’t it make you angry?” I ask.
“What?” he replies as if he and I were not just present for the same hostile exchange with the bartender.
“Other people thinking they know us or are relationship?”
“No, because I don’t care if other people think we don’t belong together.
I know that we do. I’ve known since you came over to my house in hideous red overalls and chocolate brownie batter all over your face.
From the moment you burst into my life and put your sticky hand in mine and said ‘Hi I’m Kendall.
’” He was right those overalls were hideous and Kai really really hates messes and certain textures.
So the fact that he followed me willingly back then says a lot.
“Really,” I chuckle. “You’ve known since then?”
“Yupp,” he confirms bringing my hand to his and brushing a kiss over it.
We walk a little further in silence. I wasn’t going to let one asshole ruin my night.
Kai is right. What other people thought was irrelevant.
How we felt together mattered more. That’s what mattered most. Judgmental bartenders and casual acts of racism be damned.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
“No, I’m okay.” But before I can protest, his jacket is covering my shoulders.
“Just in case,” he says softly.
“Kai, thank you for this. Not just the jacket but for everything. For always being exactly who I need,” I whisper, turning to face him.
“You’re welcome,” he says, bringing his hands to cup my face. “Thank you for letting me and for being everything I need and more.” I cover his hand with mine, leaning into his palm.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you for months and for whatever reason I couldn’t,” I go on.
“But I want you to know, I think you’re perfect.
You’re smart and you’re kind, selfless and loyal.
You’re the hardest worker I know and you aren’t afraid to go after what you want.
You love me and Akio exactly the way we deserve to be loved.
And I just wanted you to know that for me you’re perfect. ”
“Is that all?” he grins. His eyes are shining, his smile uncontainable.
“You already know I think you’re perfect, but I’ll say it again if you need me to.
As many times as it takes until you believe it.
” I put my finger over his lips to silence him, because he has already shown me every day how much he loves me, how much I mean to him.
And I want this moment to be entirely about him.
“I love you so much, Kai,” I say. He’s about to reply but I shake my head with my finger still hovering on his mouth. “I know,” I murmur.
His hand is gripping my neck, he’s rubbing his thumb over my cheek, staring at me with the universe in his eyes and a thousand words on the tip of his tongue.
And it feels like a love like this should be impossible.
But it isn’t. Not with him. It feels easy.
Safe. Right. Like pancakes on Sunday morning, or curling up by the fire with a good book.
Like hearing the hook of your favorite song or the smell of fresh rain in the summer.
He doesn’t say anything—he doesn’t have to. He kisses me with longing, ferocity, and passion just like he always has. His lips move over mine with the same intensity that he had when I was 17 and insecure and scared of what a kiss might do to us.
And I melt away into his arms.