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I give Kipp’s leg a squeeze as I stand up, offering him some privacy. He sighs into the phone as I make my way toward the kitchen.
“I know, Mom,” he says quietly. “I know. But you have to understand, I can’t help how I feel. And asking me to hide who I am and be miserable all my life isn’t fair.”
He’s quiet for a minute, and I keep half an eye on him while I collect ingredients to make smoothies. He sits upright, wincing as he settles on his ass. When he runs his fingers through his hair, he stills and brings his hand out in front of his face. His expression—the way his eyes soften when he catches sight of his ring—has my heart pumping wildly.
I turn away, not knowing what my own face might be giving away should Kipp look at me.
“Yeah, I get it,” he says, sounding defeated. “If that’s how you feel, I can’t change that. But I’m a grown man, Mom. I’m not under your roof anymore, and you and Dad don’t get to decide how I live my life.” There’s a hum, and then, “Yeah. Okay. Bye.”
Kipp lets out a sigh, the thunk of his phone on the coffee table following.
“All right?” I ask.
He nods slowly. “I guess?”
“What’d she say?”
Kipp leans back against the couch cushions, idly twisting his wedding band on his finger. “She implied it was very rude of me to talk back and then leave yesterday after they came all this way to see me. She said she’s extremely disappointed by the choices I’m making. And she reiterated that they only want what’s best for me, and couldn’t I try to see that?” He makes a frustrated sound. “It’s…fine. It is what it is. I think this whole thing was a long time coming. I just… I wasn’t really expecting to tell them off last night. I don’t know where that came from, to be honest.”
I hum, dumping some yogurt into the blender. “I think, maybe, you were ready.”
“Ready to lose my family?” he asks wryly.
“Ready to put yourself first,” I counter.
And, just maybe, having me by his side gave him the bravery to do so. The thought warms me.
“I should call Niko,” he says, sounding lost in thought.
“Sure. Want to do that now or after a walk?”
“Is that a thing now?” he asks, standing up and coming into the kitchen. “You taking me on walks? I’m pretty sure that’s not my kink.”
“No?” I ask, suppressing a smile. “You don’t want to be a good pup for me?”
His brow furrows, like he’s actually considering it. “I… No, definitely not.”
I chuckle, popping the lid on the blender. “I’m glad. I’d much rather play with dolls.”
Kipp’s face reddens as the blender runs, two spots of rosy color rising on his cheeks. When it’s quiet again, Kipp says, “Dolls? Plural?”
Oh, did I strike a nerve? I leave our smoothies in the blender as I head his way. He tracks me, bright blue eyes on my person as I come around the counter to stand directly in front of him. I thread my fingers through his hair, tipping his head up half an inch.
“You know what my job is,” I say.
He nods. “Yes.”
“It’s not this.”
He shakes his head slowly, and I know he understands what I mean. What I do at the studio is worlds apart from my personal life. I don’t have an attachment to my scene partners, emotionally or romantically, and if Kipp held any jealousy over my position at Elite 8 or the fact that I have sex with the men there, I would know. He wouldn’t be able to hide it from me.
The same way he can’t hide what it is he’s feeling now.
“But you,” I tell him slowly, “are the only one I want. Singular.”
He swallows.
“Okay?”
