Chapter 34
Chapter thirty-four
Rhys
Morning, Boyfriend
Noises filter past the veil of sleep and slowly I remember where I am. The smell of the sheets, the feel of the pillows, the echo of someone showering ten feet away.
This is the first time I’ve slept over at Duncan’s. He seems to find his way to my place instead. But, I like being in his space.
He steps out of the bathroom with a towel low around his hips.
"Morning Charming." His voice is gruff from not using it yet today.
I was so tired last night I barely remember our pillow talk but I seem to remember Duncan agreeing to be my boyfriend.
"Morning, Boyfriend." I set my smile free and watch it reflected in his glasses.
Duncan’s hands slow a fraction as he finishes drying his body, but he’s smiling. I stay curled in his bed as he gets dressed. Once he returns from hanging up his towel he stands at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips.
"Well, c’mon Charming. Be a good boyfriend and make me breakfast."
"You’re the one who needs boyfriend practice. You make me breakfast." I toss a pillow at him which he, of course, catches easily.
"You know not what you’ve done." He says as he smacks the pillow against my ass. "But I’m tired of Bryson saying he’s the world’s best boyfriend."
"I can’t wait to see what you whip up."
He straightens his shoulders and I enjoy the view of him leaving the room.
We haven’t had a night together since Nashville where we haven’t fooled around a little and it feels so good to be playful and flirty without sex hijacking everything.
It gives me hope we can figure this out. That what we share is more intimate than what our bodies crave.
Duncan curses in the kitchen and after I indulge in one final inhale of his pillows I get out of bed and head to the shower.
Hopefully my boyfriend is still in one piece when I get out.
***
"The shells shouldn’t be in the bowl." I hear through a speaker phone as I walk to the kitchen. "I have a personal chef but at least I know that much."
"Rub it in, why don’t you. I’m dying here!" Duncan exhales. Before I announce my presence I take in the scene in front of me.
Three mixing bowls are on the counter. One is tipped on its side, a box of high protein pancake mix is half spilled into it. It looks like all twelve eggs have been cracked between the bowls and a few casualties ooze on the counter.
Milk is open, a few spoons are scattered across the island, and Duncan is looking at the stove with both of his hands on top of his head.
"Duncan? Everything alright?" I ask quietly.
He whips around, mumbling, "gotta go" as he stabs at his phone. "Rhys! Charming. Hello. Ummm, it’s not quite ready yet."
"I’d say. What are you working on?"
"Pancakes?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
"Both."
Fuck, this is the best morning of my entire life. "How can I help?"
Dunan flutters his eyelashes and pouts. "You could make me pancakes instead."
"I think you’re out of eggs." I start to pile the broken shells into the crate.
"Yeah, those are tricky little buggers."
He starts to help clean up too. "How is it possible you never learned to cook?" I ask as I wipe excess flour into the trash.
"Mom always cooked at home, then in college there was the cafeteria and team meals. As a pro, a lot of food is available at the arena and at practice, and I survive the rest of the time on take out and dino nuggets."
He shrugs and presses a kiss to my shoulder as I rinse out the mixing bows. "Good thing you have a boyfriend who can cook for you now."
"Exactly!" He slides his apron off and tosses it on the counter before opening a drawer excitedly. "I bet you even know what this torture device is for."
Duncan is holding up a can opener and he’s twisting the side while also trying to pump the handle. "You don’t know what that is?"
"I assume it’s something for like deboning a chicken or something, I dunno."
"It’s a can opener."
"Really?" He inspects it more closely.
"Yeah, do you have a can of beans? I’ll show you how it works."
"You’re the cowboy out of the two of us. I don’t eat beans out of the can."
I roll my eyes. "Neither do I. Do you have a can of peaches?"
"I don’t need canned peaches, I have the real thing right here!" He slaps my bum as I open his pantry cabinet. Shaking my head, I look through what he has. A loaf of bread, nut butters, pretzels. More snack foods, a few boxes of dried pasta.
But no cans.
"I didn’t even realize it was possible to have a kitchen without something canned." I say as I turn back to him.
"What canned goods do you have?" I open my mouth but Duncan stops me with a hand up. "Besides beans."
"Olives."
"Aren’t those beans?"
"No, they’re a vegetable. Or fruit."
"Bullshit." Duncan grabs his phone and lifts himself up on the counter with an athletic bounce. "Hey Siri, are olives beans?"
He holds his phone out as we wait for her to answer.
"No, olives are not beans. Botanically, olives are classified as fruit, specifically, they are drupes (or stone fruits) because they grow from a flower and contain a single seed (pit) surrounded by fleshy pulp.
They are related to cherries, peaches, and plums, rather than legumes like beans. "
"See, they’re a fruit." I say, satisfied.
"You’re a fruit." Duncan grumbles.
My arms cross and I raise an eyebrow at him.
"Not my best comeback, sorry."
It takes a lot more for me to actually be offended than being called a fruit but I do appreciate his apology. When I first met him, Duncan was highly energetic, forward as fuck, and unapologetic about who he was.
The man in front of me, my boyfriend, is that same man but I’ve earned the privilege of seeing his softer moments too. I see the way he cares for those he loves.
I can feel the way he cares for me.
It’s easy for me to come to the love conclusion but is he with me? I already pushed the title of boyfriend on him, I can’t push it further.
"So, what are we going to do for breakfast?" He asks. "We have time to go out before I have to leave for conditioning."
"Umm. Yeah, sure." I never told Zara about this. I haven’t had the chance but she’ll be pissed as hell if I am seen out for brunch with a new man.
"Actually, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
" Duncan’s head tilts to the side. "I need to talk to Zara about it and we need to come up with a plan to announce it. Us."
"Oh, right."
"Sorry, it’s just, it’s easier to let her run it and tell us what to do than have her scrambling to cover for something."
"Sure." His tone says the opposite.
"Duncan, c’mon, don’t you want to tell people before they find out on some gossip site?"
"I’m pretty sure all my people already know. Or at least they have a strong inkling. I mean, I could call my parents I guess." Duncan shrugs but it’s the opening I need.
"Okay then, you call your parents, I’ll call Zara. And I’ll place an order for delivery from Sunrise Bakery."
"Alright." He slides off the counter, gives me a quick kiss, and takes his phone out to the balcony.
I open my food delivery app and place an order, it’s probably enough to feed eight but I’m overcompensating.
When I navigate to my text thread with Zara, there’s a message waiting.
ZARA: The shelter confirmed, you’re on for Thanksgiving from two to seven.
When I’m in Nashville for Thanksgiving, a holiday I don’t exactly celebrate, I volunteer at a soup kitchen.
I add it too my calendar, seeing it conflict with Duncan’s Teamsgiving event he shared with me, and decide to handle the overlap later. With a centering breath I call Zara.
"Rhys! I was just about to call you." She answers excitedly.
"You were?"
"Yes. You’re going to love me so much." I can picture her eyes sparkling with plans and her smug smile. "The Kingmaker was just nominated for album of the year and their schedule is about to be absolutely booked solid so this is a big get."
"How'd you hear that?" Nominations are usually announced for another month or more. But, attaching Lennox Calloway’s name to my album will help with the crossover exposure to the pop channels. This is my chance to expand my style of music beyond the country stations.
"A publicist never tells."
I let out a laugh. "Fair enough. Okay, so I have two weeks here and then what, four in Nashville."
"Six."
"Six weeks." Not bad.
"Months."
I freeze. "What?"
"You're going to record the whole album over the next six months."
"I don't need that long for the album."
"Well, I've got the time. And hell will freeze over before I give it up." I can hear her typing on her other phone in the background.
"Zar. This is too much."
"No, this is you reclaiming the spotlight."
"But last night you told me you could make a relationship work. Remember?" I ask her, my mind reeling with how I'm going to date Duncan from Nashville while recording an album and starting to rehearse for a tour.
"I do. And, this is going to make my job easier because you won't actually spend any time with him."
Now it's my turn to place my hand on top of my head in frustration. "But, this isn't what I wanted."
The background keystrokes pause.
"I'm sorry to break it to you Rhys, but your career is what you wanted. Your career comes first."
She's right. I hate that she's right. I came to the U.S. after my first album was released in the top ten on the country charts. Stardom was happening. And I wanted it.
My life growing up was too quiet. And the pain of making music in a house where it couldn't be heard ate at me. It was part of my rebellion, it was childish at first, playing loudly late into the night.
Then it became a compulsion. I couldn't not play music.
Then it became my job.
And I never truly understood the scope of what I’d be giving up. Or that someday I would crave a quiet life out of the spotlight.
And now my job is going to keep me from Duncan.
He’s busy too but naively I thought our conflicting schedules would just sort themselves out.
I expected us to have a conversation soon about what my schedule would be like going forward. He’s still playing hockey through April, longer if they go to the playoffs. I just wasn't planning to tell him I was leaving for six months.
I let out a beleaguered sigh.
"Listen Rhys, I know. And I can probably swing some time off once the album is out and the first leg of the tour is over."
"So a year from now." My words fall flat, my chest deflating with the weight of the challenges ahead.
"No, like eight months."
"Fine, but next summer I want a break to spend a week at home and two weeks with Duncan."
"Three weeks off?" Zara sounds like I've asked her to add an elephant to my rider.
"Yes, I'll do one show in the UK if I have to but I want that time."
"Fine."
"Thank you."
"But then you're touring all summer. I'm talking music festivals, carnivals, church bar-b-ques."
I roll my eyes. "Fine."
"Pleasure doing business with you Rhys." Sarcasm and affection laced in her tone.
"And I agreed to play at one of Duncan’s friend’s weddings. So work around that too."
"Of course. What else can I do for you boss?"
"I should pay you less so you're more afraid of me." I grumble.
"You like me too much." She chuckles and I join her.
She's right, I do.
She hangs up and I battle with my excitement for Lennox being on my album and still not knowing how I’ll be handling Duncan.
There’s no denying how difficult she just made this conversation with Duncan. And, we didn’t actually discuss how we’d announce our relationship.
I fire off a text asking if she’d meet me for a coffee later as Duncan comes back from the patio.
"Tomorrow is going to be a beautiful day for Teamsgiving." He’s beaming and my body lights in response.
"What time do things get started?"
"I usually head over at two. Football starts at three."
Shit.
"Do you mind if I meet you there?"
Duncan’s brow furrows. "Why?"
"I’m volunteering tomorrow at a shelter from two to seven."
"Oh, do I need to be there too?"
"I don’t think so."
"Okay. What did Zara say?"
"We didn’t get to talk about it. I’m going to try and get coffee with her later."
He pulls up his phone. "I can probably make it after conditioning if I shower at the facility."
"Oh, I don’t think you need to be there. We’ll come up with a plan. If you want to review it with me you can but she’ll know when the timing is right and which outlets to leak it to."
"Got it."
The air in the kitchen has changed. Duncan’s phone rings and he answers to tell the doorman to send up the delivery guy. We’re silent as he takes the food and brings it to the kitchen.
I hate that I dimmed his light. I hate that there isn’t a clear path for me. For us.
But I’ll figure it out.
"What is the dress code for Teamsgiving?" I ask as he starts to unpack the boxes full of pastries.
"Comfortable? Elastic waistband for sure." He says, his tone absent of the bright and cheerful melody I love. He simply sounds drained. "You can always go fancier if you need to dress up for Zara."
"That’s not fair." I point out as I watch his shoulders round forward.
"You’re right." He flattens his palms on the counter and looks up at me. "Sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing here."
"That’s fine, I’m not asking you to know. I’m going to get it figured out for us. And then after my commitment tomorrow I’ll meet you at your party." My stomach sinks like rocks to the bottom of a loch but I manage to summon the courage. "Do you still want me there?"
HIs brown eyes lift to mine but they don’t sparkle when he says, "Rhys, you don’t need my permission to come, Rhys." With that he pushes off the counter and walks down the hall. "I’m going to workout."