Love Is Proud Read online

  “Nick, it’s so good to see you,” he says as I rise from the sofa to hug him. “How are you?”

  “Fine. How are you?”

  He shrugs. “I’ve been better.”

  I wait for him to launch into the story of the wedding picture, but he doesn’t. Instead, he apologizes again for not being able to meet me at the airport earlier and I assure him it’s no big deal. We talk about my flight and he asks how my mother’s doing. Craig and my mother have met before and their meeting was strangely anti-climactic. Not that I expected them to start yelling at each other or get into a physical altercation, but I did expect more than handshakes, cordial greetings, and dull chit chat. Even after that initial meeting, I’ve never heard my mother or Craig say one bad thing about each other. They both seem to accept the other’s role in my father’s life without drama or animosity. Or maybe they each just badmouth each other when I’m not around.

  “Where’s Tim?” Craig asks. “I didn’t see his car in the driveway.”

  I tell him Dad went to run some errands and pick up some things for dinner that night and he nods. I wait, again, for him to make a comment about the wedding photo, but he doesn’t, so I do.

  “Dad told me about the wedding picture.”

  He frowns. “I figured he would.”

  “For what it’s worth, I told him he’s making a mistake by not putting the picture in his office at work.”

  Craig smiles and claps my shoulder. “Thanks. I appreciate that, but you know how Tim is. He can be incredibly stubborn sometimes. I’m probably fighting a losing battle with him over this whole thing.”

  “Well, if anyone can change his mind, it’s you, Craig.”

  He laughs a little. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

  * * * *

  Craig changes clothes and he and I hang out and talk until Dad comes home. After that, everyone retreats to his own corner of the house. Dad goes to the kitchen to cook dinner, Craig heads to the office to finish up some work things, and I go to my room to surf the web. We don’t all reconvene until Dad tells us dinner is ready.

  Dinner is…odd. It’s obvious Craig is angry with Dad but his anger is so quiet and contained that it creates a weird dynamic between us all. On the surface it looks like everything is okay. The meal is good, everyone enjoys the food Dad cooked, the conversation is light, and nothing seems out of the ordinary. But something is wrong. I know it, Craig knows it, and my father knows it. While we’re having dessert, I give them my anniversary gift: passes for a bike and kayak combination tour in La Jolla. They both thank me for the passes and promise to use them. Then, Craig laughs a little and says, “Thank God you didn’t give us any pictures.”

  Dad shakes his head. “Jesus, not again.”

  Craig looks at him and asks, “Are you ashamed of our marriage?”

  Dad looks shocked by the question. “What?”

  “You heard me. Are you ashamed to let people know you’re married to me?”

  “Of course not. I’m not closeted at work or anywhere else, Craig. You know that.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Why won’t you put the picture in your office?”

  “Because I’ve always kept my private life private. I don’t like having people in my business. I never have.”

  “Did you keep a picture of Beth on your desk when you were married to her?”

  “Beth” is my mother, Elizabeth. She and my father were married for a little over ten years before they called it quits and divorced. My mother and father have an amicable relationship now and she claims to have no issue with the fact that her ex-husband is gay. “Tim is free to live his life however he chooses,” she told me once when we talked about my father’s sexuality. She didn’t always feel that way, she admitted, but time and distance seem to have healed her wounds.

  “Yes, I kept a picture of Beth on my desk when we were married,” my father tells Craig, “but that was a long time ago and the picture I had of her wasn’t from our wedding. It was a picture of her and Nick together.”

  “But you didn’t have any problem sharing that photo with your co-workers, right?”

  “I was in a different place in my career and in my life back then, Craig. I did what was expected. Now I can do what I want.”

  “And you don’t want to have our wedding picture on display in your office, right?”

  I try to quietly rise from the table so I can leave Craig and my father to argue privately, but Craig grabs my arm as soon as my ass is out of my seat.

  “Don’t go, Nick,” he says. “You should stay and hear this, too. This is a family issue.”

  My father lets out a sarcastic laugh. “There is no issue.”

  “You don’t even have a picture of Nick in your office!”

  “No, I don’t, but he, unlike you, doesn’t give a shit, do you, Nick?”

  Everyone looks at me then, waiting to hear how I’ll respond. Honestly, I don’t give a shit that my father doesn’t have my picture in his office, but I also understand why Craig is so upset about the lack of personal photographs in Dad’s office. Having a photograph of the two of them at work might invite conversation that my father isn’t comfortable having in his quest to keep his “private life private” but I think that’s a small price to pay for showing the world (or at least his colleagues) that he loves his husband and he’s proud of their marriage. With the legalization of gay marriage, my father should be shouting from the rooftops to let everyone know he’s married to a kind, decent man like Craig. Having their wedding picture on his desk does more than just show his coworkers that he’s married. That picture shows them (and anyone else who sees it) that his and Craig’s marriage is just as real and valid as any heterosexual couple’s.

  “This isn’t about me,” I say, “but I do agree with Craig, Dad. He gave you a great picture that shows your love for each other. Plus, the fact that you and Craig can legally marry now is a big deal and it’s something you should want to share with other people.”

  Dad’s eyes go from me to Craig and come back to me again before he nods. “Oh, I get it. You two got together and decided it was time to gang up on me. Time to tag team old Tim, right? Well you can save your breath trying to make me feel bad because it’s not going to work. I’m not falling for your guilt trip. Just because I don’t have a picture of my wedding in my office doesn’t mean I don’t love Craig or that I’m ashamed to be married to another man. You two are grasping at straws and you know it.”

  “Why are you so stubborn?” Craig asks.

  “Why are you so persistent?” my father shoots back. “You rarely even come to my office! Why do you care what I keep in it?”

  “Because it’s important to me. Before we got married, I didn’t make a fuss about your lack of personal photos at work and I accepted your desire to keep your private life private. Even after we got married, I didn’t say anything. But, Tim, we’ve been married for a year now. I’m your husband, not just some guy you’re living and sleeping with. I really want us to be on the same page about our relationship and, clearly, we aren’t.”

  My father looks crushed. “How can you say that?”

  Craig is silent for a few seconds before sighing. “Because if you asked me to do something as simple as put a picture of us in my office, I would do it with no hesitation.”

  And, with that, the conversation is over. Craig rises from his chair and leaves the room and the house. Dad doesn’t even bother trying to stop him. Once he hears the front door slam shut, he curses and storms off.

  * * * *

  Later that evening, I start to get worried because Craig hasn’t returned and Dad is a mess. He’s called and texted Craig’s cell phone multiple times, but Craig hasn’t responded. He also called Jill, Craig’s best friend and the woman who became a Universal Life Minister so she could officiate their wedding, to find out if she’d seen Craig or heard from him and she said she hadn’t.

  Finally, around eleven that night while Dad and I are sitting outside on the
back patio under a haze of citronella candles, he turns to me and says, “I’m a jerk.”

  He won’t get any disagreement from me over that assessment.

  “I’ll put the picture on my desk at work,” he says. “Hell, I’ll put ten pictures of me and Craig on my desk if it’ll make him happy.”

  “Why didn’t you say that earlier before he stormed out of the house?”

  “I don’t know. I just…I really didn’t think this was a big deal.” He sighs and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands before looking at me. “I’m scared, Nick.”

  “Scared of what?”

  “Fucking up my marriage. You know I’ve got one divorce under my belt already. I’m terrified of adding a second one. If I lost Craig, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “What makes you think you’ll lose him?”

  “Because sometimes I’m a lousy husband. I don’t always say or do the right thing.”

  “No one does, Dad.”

  He’s quiet for a few seconds before asking, “Have I totally fucked up my marriage?”

  Before I can answer, I hear a voice behind me say, “No, not yet.”

  Turning, Dad and I see Craig standing in the doorway of the patio sliders. I never even heard him come in and I wonder how long he’s been standing there. Dad is out of his chair immediately.

  “Baby, I’m sorry,” he says, pulling Craig into his arms. “I am. Can you forgive me?”

  “Yes,” Craig says.

  “Are we okay?” Dad asks.

  “No,” Craig says, “but we will be.”

  Dad smiles and kisses Craig and I breathe a sigh of relief. One anniversary down and many more to go.

  * * * *

  ABOUT KIM DAVIS

  Kim Davis is the author of Clean Hands, Collusion, Daddy Issues, Pivot, Baggage, and the short ebook, There Will Be Cake, from the Love Wins series published by JMS Books. After stints in Detroit, Philadelphia, and Brooklyn, she currently lives in Evanston, Illinois. For more information, visit detroiter-in-brooklyn.blogspot.com.

  The characters featured in “Paper Anniversary” also appear in There Will Be Cake.

  Men to Hold Her by Annie Dean

  Charlie and Justin were up to something.

  For the last couple of weeks, they’d been highly secretive, changing the subject whenever I came into the room, or distracting me with kisses and other lovely things whenever I asked what the hell they were up to.

  It could be anything, I suppose, but I figured it probably had something to do with our six-month anniversary, which was today. In fact, I was just about finished with my last customer, Mr. Reston, and planned to leave early because I had a special outfit at my place that I wanted to wear for our celebratory dinner tonight. Whatever my men had planned, I wanted to look my best.

  As Mr. Reston’s hair was curly and a little unruly, he always requested me because I got the best results. He tipped well, too. When I was finally done, he thanked me nicely and handed over a fifty-dollar bill.

  I blew him a kiss as he left and quickly cleaned up the area before grabbing my stuff and practically running out the door. My fellow stylists called out “congratulations” and “good luck” in my wake. Half an hour later, the train broke down two stations away from my stop.

  It was hot and stuffy, since the air wasn’t functioning, naturally, and the man squished next to me had the worst body odor imaginable, though he’d tried to mask it with cologne. Really?

  Maybe I should have taken Charlie up on his offer to pick me up in a limo after work, but I never wanted to take his or Justin’s wealth for granted. If they had their way, I’d be showered in ridiculously expensive gifts every single day, and I didn’t want that. I could make my own way in the world, though the occasional fancy present wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. They liked to spoil me, and I did my best to curb their enthusiasm as much as possible.

  My cell phone was useless, though I’d managed to send a quick text to Justin before it had died that I was stuck and wasn’t sure when I’d make it to the restaurant. The people around me were grumbling, and one woman was making her displeasure known, loudly. As if that would fix things faster.

  It reminded me of times at the salon when walk-in customers would gripe that they should have been served the minute they entered the establishment. I usually gave them my biggest smile as I styled their hair, and checked the urge to accidentally dye their locks a lovely shade of puce.

  After what seemed like forever but was likely only forty minutes or so, the train began to move again, and I got off at my stop a hot, sweaty mess and very grumpy. When I made it outside the station after being pushed and shoved by the surging crowd, the air was muggy and my temper was at its breaking point.

  And then I noticed the limo waiting on the curb with Trevor, Charlie and Justin’s driver, leaning casually against the passenger door. I smiled reluctantly as I walked over to him. “Who called you? Boyfriend number one or two?”

  Trevor grinned as he opened the back door. “They both did.”

  Rolling my eyes, I thanked him and made myself comfortable against the plush leather after grabbing a bottle of water from the tiny bar. Incorrigible, both of them. I watched as Trevor eased back into traffic, feeling myself relax a bit. It was nice to be taken care of and fussed over, even if my men went overboard sometimes.

  After a few minutes, I realized that Trevor wasn’t taking me to my apartment. I knocked on the glass to get his attention. He slid it to the side. “Yes, Miss Cross?” he said, keeping his eyes focused on traffic.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I was asked to deliver you to the restaurant.”

  I stared at him in horror. “But I’m a mess! They don’t actually expect me to walk into a five-star establishment looking like this, do they?”

  “Just following orders, Miss Cross.” Trevor replied, though the look he gave me in the rearview mirror was sympathetic.

  Sighing, I settled against the supple leather. I was going to kill them.

  * * * *

  When Trevor opened the door fifteen minutes later, I was helped out of the car by Justin, who’d been waiting when we pulled up.

  “Angie,” he said while pulling me into his arms. “Are you alright? I’m sorry you had such a rotten afternoon.” He leaned back a little to look me over and frowned. “You look the worse for wear. Still beautiful, though,” he added, kissing my cheek.

  I let my heart melt just a little bit, but not much. “I’m fine, love, but there’s no way in hell I’m going anywhere fancy looking like this. What were you and Charlie thinking? You always do this.”

  “We were thinking you’d like some two-on-one time, so I reserved the entire restaurant for the night,” Charlie said, coming up behind me to wrap his arms around the both of us and resting his chin on my shoulder. “You look wonderful, my love, whether you’re wearing something fancy or nothing at all. Are we forgiven?”

  I turned my head to look at him. “You…” Just when I thought I was getting used to the lengths these men would go to show me how much I meant to them, they did something else that simply floored me.

  “I…I don’t know what to say.” I looked down at my rumpled clothing and knew my hair was a mess. Some stylist I was. “You’re both very sweet, but are you sure it’s alright for me to go in there like this? You’re wearing suits, and tonight is special. I wanted to…” My words faltered.

  “Shh, love,” Charlie said, taking my arm while Justin took the other before leading me inside. “You’re perfect.”

  “I don’t know about that…” I began to say, but was kissed quiet by Justin when we stopped at the table to which our smiling hostess had led us.

  When I was like melted butter in his arms, Justin let me go and Charlie kissed me just as thoroughly before pulling a chair out for me. A good thing, too, since my legs were like limp noodles by then. With the three of us seated, I was able to catch my breath and admire my surroundings. We were indeed the only three people in
the place, aside from the staff.

  “This is too much, guys. It’s not really necessary. I know how much you care for me, and you know my feelings on the matter. But you always…” I stopped and shook my head. “I don’t need all this, you know? I nice evening at home watching a movie is fine, too.”

  Charlie lifted a glass of champagne that had just been poured for the three of us. “I know it’s a bit much, and perhaps we could tone it down a bit. But it’s our way of expressing our deep affection for you and all you’ve brought to this relationship. Justin and I love having you in our lives. You make us whole. And now…”

  I frowned. “What?” I prompted when he hesitated.

  After exchanging a look with Justin, Charlie announced, “We want you to move in with us. Permanently.”

  * * * *

  I sat there for a minute or two, gaping like a fish. That was something I hadn’t expected. Wasn’t it too soon? I mean, sure, we got along famously and I missed them desperately when I went to my place to spend a night or two in my own bed. I…could they really want this? Was it a dream?

  Charlie reached over to pinch my lips together, grinning. “You practically live there, anyway, and half your wardrobe is at the house. Justin and I hate it when you’re not there, and it would make things official.”

  “And you keep Charlie in line,” Justin added, winking at his lover. I felt Charlie’s leg brush mine as he aimed a kick at Justin’s ankle.

  I snickered at Justin’s pout, but quickly sobered. “I don’t…” At that moment, a server arrived with their entrees, and then we were focused on the delicious food before us. My mind was reeling with possibilities for the future.

  When I’d met Charlie, I was in the closet about my feelings regarding being with two men at once. It was a secret fantasy of mine, but I’d had no idea how to go about finding such a relationship. Then Charlie came alone, and he’d brought me home to Justin.

  The feelings…the desire I’d felt watching them together, and then realizing they wanted me, too, was overwhelming at first. But they showed me there was nothing wrong with what I craved, that I had to take a chance on finding happiness in being who I really was, and acting on it. And now, here we were, six months in, and I never wanted it to end.