Chapter Fourteen
Grant
Kiyah and I sat across from our second set of parents in a booth in the back of a cozy coffee shop. The calming Lofi that oozed from the Bluetooth speaker did nothing to ease the anger rolling off Uncle Ant.
I swear the man sprouted ten gray hairs since we’ve been held hostage.
Ms. Simone appeared to be taking our secret relationship in better stride. She called on Jesus a few times under her breath, but she didn’t look like she was about to pop a blood vessel like her loving husband.
I glanced at Kiyah. To anyone else, she seemed cool as a cucumber, but the rapid blinking of her eyes told a different story.
I grabbed her hand underneath the table and gave it a firm, supportive squeeze.
She squeezed it back, and I felt for the first time in a long time that she was leaning on me for support.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted—to love and be there for her in every way possible. To protect her from the things I knew could break her.
“What the fuck is going on?” Uncle Ant snapped.
“Anthony! We’re in public.” Ms. Simone admonished. She leaned across the table and whispered, “What the fuck is going on?”
I glanced at Kiyah once more and received a consenting nod. I pulled her hand up and kissed the back of it.
“Oh, my God,” Uncle Ant groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands. “How long has this been going on?”
“Kiyah and I have been involved for 13 years.”
“Thirteen goddamn years!” he bellowed, slamming his fist on the table.
Activity in the coffee shop came to an abrupt standstill.
The barista’s brow raised dubiously, a baby three tables over cried, and a nervous older woman looked as if she was about to dial 9-1-1 on her easily accessible phone that catered to seniors.
“Anthony… your blood pressure,” Ms. Simone warned lowly. “Relax and let me take care of this.”
“Jonathan’s not going to like this. Jonathan’s not going to like this at all. The jury’s still out on Kierra.”
“Relax, Anthony.”
He finally exhaled, and some of the crimson leaked from his face, returning him to a more palatable pink.
Ms. Simone smiled at us warmly, but she wasn’t fooling me.
It was the same smile she used before she pulled out the slipper for Nori, Daisy, and Ronan.
Kieran was exempt because he was a well-behaved child.
The other ones? Not so much. “Okay, let’s take it from the top.
I want to preface this by saying that your Uncle Ant and I love you two very much, and there’s nothing you can do to make us stop loving you.
This… finding out the two of you are romantically involved is a little upsetting, especially given how long this has been going on. ”
I seized Kiyah’s hand again. “It’s fine. We didn’t expect anything less,” I said firmly.
“I don’t feel that it’s our place to demand answers from you, but if you feel inclined to let us in, then we’ll listen and reserve our judgment. This is a safe space,” Ms. Simone insisted.
This is it. I can finally unburden myself of this secret.
“Thank you,” I started. “I can’t speak for Kiyah, but I’ve had feelings for her ever since I can remember.”
“I told Jonathan something wasn’t right. I told him they were too close when they were younger, but noooo, they’re just kids—”
“Anthony,” Ms. Simone warned again.
He waved a hand in surrender. “You got it, Simone. You don’t have to worry about me breathing another word. Wait… this is probably why Grant didn’t go to Harvard.”
“Is that true?” she asked skeptically.
“It is,” I admitted. A strangled noise erupted from Uncle Ant’s throat. “I didn’t need Harvard to be successful.”
“You’re right. Considering its acceptance rate, just the fact that you were accepted is an accomplishment in itself. Did the two of you start dating around the time you left for college?”
“Correct.”
“And you dated all through college?”
“Correct.”
“Okay… does anyone else know about your relationship?” We shook our heads. “All right… Kiyah, does your relationship have anything to do with why you’ve been gone for long stretches?”
“The relationship? No.”
“Then why?” Ms. Simone pressed.
“That’s… that’s personal.”
“Okay, I respect that. “Are you two happy?”
I closed my eyes when Kiyah started crying. “I’m… sorry,” she said between her sobs as she accepted napkins from Ms. Simone.
“No, don’t apologize. I’m sorry for asking.”
“It’s fine. Um… things have been complicated between us for the last seven years. We were very happy, and then I took off, and we haven’t been the same since. We still love each other, but—”
“This explains so fucking much,” Uncle Ant sighed. “This whole time, I thought he wasn’t interested in women.”
“You’d be right. I’m not interested in women—I’m interested in one woman,” I said.
“I stand corrected,” he replied gruffly.
“Was there ever a point when you guys were going to tell the family, or did you intend to keep your relationship a secret forever?”
“We were going to tell everyone, but then Kiyah took off after the wed—”
Their eyes bulged from their sockets, and their breath caught in their throats in a tight gasp.
Fuck… I didn’t mean to let that cat out of the bag.
“The wed what?” Uncle Ant pressed, anxiously waiting for an answer.
I peeked at Kiyah for direction. She sucked in a breath and nodded.
Well… here goes nothing.
“Kiyah and I have been married for the past seven years.”
Kiyah
We rode back to town in utter silence, not wanting to rehash the disastrous meeting with Uncle Ant and Ms. Simone after our marriage bombshell.
Instead of turning fire engine red, all color drained from Uncle Ant’s face, and Ms. Simone had to remind the man to breathe.
Once he regained a little composure, he pushed away from the table and limped out of the coffee shop with his cane.
Ms. Simone tried to smile encouragingly, but the disappointment turned her beautiful smile into a crooked, misshapen grimace.
She stood from the table, gathered her purse, and said they were never there and the conversation never happened.
She requested that we be respectful and keep our secret to ourselves until after her baby’s wedding.
Then she left, muttering about how we tried to put her husband in a premature grave.
This is going to be a shit show. If that’s how Uncle Ant and Ms. Simone reacted, then I can’t imagine how Mom and Dad will react.
“I think that went well,” Grant said, parking the car in the driveway. I side-eyed him and unbuckled my seatbelt.
“I’m concerned about your definition of ‘well.’ Uncle Ant looked like he was about to stroke out.
Grant’s lips wiggled as he held back a grin. I mentally prepared myself for whatever foolishness would come out of his mouth.
“At least Granddad would have company.”
“You’re sick.”
He shrugged callously. “To be honest, Ki, I don’t give a damn. I don’t think you understand how relieved I feel that someone outside of us knows. It’s so freeing.”
“I understand, but we shouldn’t leave victims in our wake.”
He narrowed his alluring eyes at me before saying, “We never got your cell phone.”
“It’s fine, Grant. We can get it later,” I said, leaving the car.
“It’s not fine. But I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it at the moment. I’ll have a new one for you by tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. Can you order me an Uber? We should’ve gotten my bike when we had the chance.”
“And we would’ve, but you couldn’t keep your hands off of me,” he said teasingly as he ordered my rideshare.
I rolled my eyes and circled back to the backyard.
I sat on the teak hanging porch swing bed and tucked my feet beneath me.
Grant joined me and didn’t resist smashing me against the gray and white striped pillows.
“Your ride will be here in twenty minutes.”
“You picked the furthest one away.”
“You know me so well,” he sighed, nuzzling his face into my neck.
I stroked his blonde hair as we swayed gently in the breeze.
I was strangely at peace despite the earlier calamity, and being with Grant at that moment felt like Heaven.
I pictured lazy weekend afternoons basking in the sun after we stuffed ourselves silly with barbecue.
We’d be too tired to move and too content to care.
My nose wrinkled when I felt Grant’s tongue on my neck. “You taste spicy,” he mumbled.
“That would be my perfume.”
He snorted and ran a hand over my abdomen.
“Ki?”
“What’s up?”
“Stay away from Thaddeus Branson. I know he seems nice and charming, but you know who can be nice and charming, too?”
“Who?” I whispered.
“The devil.”
* * *
I was combing my hair at my vanity when I heard a knock on the door. I glanced at my unexpected visitor through the mirror. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“May I come in?”
“You pay the bills,” I answered, laughing lightly. He smirked and crossed the threshold.
“I wish you had acknowledged that when you were younger. Instead, I got an angsty teenager telling me I didn’t respect her boundaries,” he said, straightening a frame of me, him, and Mom at one of my track meets.
I was holding a gold medal and a bouquet of flowers in my arms. “Do you remember this?” he asked, becoming nostalgic.
“Of course I do. I broke a record.”
“I was in the stands cheering you on, and I hate to admit it, but I was praying for the girl in the next lane to trip.”
“Dad, that’s awful. She did trip and skinned her chin pretty badly.”
“Spare me. I didn’t give a shit then, and I don’t give a shit now.”
“You’re such a villain,” I teased, turning around and catching him eyeing my packed bags in the corner of my bedroom.
“You have more bags than usual.”
“I do.”
He smiled faintly. “You’re dead set on breaking an old man’s heart, huh?”
“I won’t be far,” I insisted.
“Chicago is far.”
“I’m not returning to Chicago.”
“Well, wherever the hell you’re going is far,” he said, sitting on my bed with a sigh.
“Did you need something, Dad?”
He sighed and slid his palms together, as he usually did when he was about to discuss a sensitive subject.
“Grant? Have you heard from him?”
“Why?” I asked curiously.
“I texted him a few times earlier this week, but he hasn’t responded. I tried to catch him at work, but Casey said he’d taken off the remainder of the week.”
He didn’t text you because he hates himself for hurting you.
“Have you tried swinging by his place?”
“Nah, you know how Grant can be sometimes. He doesn’t like it when we fuss over him. Casey confirmed he’d heard from him daily, so I know he’s alive.”
“He should be here in a few hours to ride to the rehearsal dinner. You should talk then.”
He shook his head. “No, thank you. For the next three days, I will focus on your sister and that hoodlum Anthony raised.”
I snorted. “Dad, give it a rest. I remember watching Daisy fly off the back of the couch like a flying squirrel with every intention of landing on Nori.”
“You would remember that.”
“Do you have your speeches ready?”
“I do. I plan on keeping them short and sweet. I don’t want to lie too much.”
“Felt.”
“I guess I should get to the point so I can leave you to get ready. A few little birdies told me that Governor Hopeful Thaddeus Branson Jr. came by the office with your cell phone and flowers. What’s that about?”
“Flowers?” I asked incredulously.
“Yes, flowers. Did you happen to get them?”
“What kind of flowers?”
“According to Daisy, they were a lovely pink rose bouquet.”
The same roses Grant said he bought for me…that son of a bitch.
“Oh, duh. Yeah, I got them. I’m sorry. I’ve been a little scatterbrained with the wedding coming up. I received them. I ran into Todd at Emerald Hills and helped him find his way to his wife’s room.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“And your phone?”
“I lost it when we bumped into each other, and he returned it.”
“I see,” he said resolutely. “He sounds like a gentleman who’s going places.”
“Good for him. His wife is fortunate to have him.”
He shot me his lawyer smile before rising to his feet. “I can tell when the conversation is over. Everyone should be arriving soon enough. Remember, we must have our talk on Sunday morning at 8:00 AM sharp.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“I love you, Kiyah,” he said, leaving my bedroom.
“I love you, too,” I whispered.
I sat there and contemplated whether I’d call Grant out on his lie, and the short answer was no. He lied about the origins of the flowers; however, he did what any reasonably jealous husband would do.