Page 64 of Forever King

Salem’s question tears me from my thoughts, and I look up at her to see an expression of irritation. She thinks I wasn’t listening to her. That’s not entirely untrue, but it’s not the typical guy not listening to his girlfriend scenario.

So I blame my brothers.

“Sorry, I was thinking about Marius and Matthias with their kids earlier. They brought them to work today.”

That comes out way lamer than I intended to sound. For Salem’s part, she seems confused. I get it. I’m not usually the guy to think about kids.

“Are they okay?” she asks like the good person she is. Like me, she doesn’t care about kids either, but she does do a nice job of pretending when it comes to my nieces and nephews.

“Yeah, yeah. My brothers just like to bring them around at work because so many people ask about them.”

Of course, that invariably leads to people asking me when I plan to have some to increase the size of the King brood. I always hate those questions. I’ve learned that tact has to be a primary part of my job at King Industries, so my answer is the same every time I’m asked. I smile and give a noncommittal shrug everyone interprets as my being cagey.

I’m not. I simply have come to understand that as one of the King brothers, I’m expected to have children. Nobody seems to bother Ronan about this, though, which never fails to baffle me. Why isn’t he supposed to reproduce?

Maybe I’ll ask my other brothers the next time we’re all around and someone brings up when I’ll have some kids.

Salem grimaces at the mention of children at work, and I can’t deny it’s not something I want to happen as often as it does. Since I’m not the CEO, I don’t get to make that decision, though.

She walks back to the table where we just finished dinner and grabs the takeout box her salmon dinner came in to throw it in the garbage. “I was saying that I have a couple new clientsstarting tomorrow. Typical public relations mess. Cheating husband, beautiful yet scorned wife, one kid, who I think is around two. I’ve done this routine dozens of times.”

Curious about this new project, I ask, “Anyone I know?”

With a wicked grin, she answers, “Chase Parker and his wife Cheyenne.”

I recognize Parker’s name immediately. “The guy from that action movie we went to see a few months ago? I think I saw a picture of his wife in a magazine at the doctor’s office last week. She’s pretty hot. Who the hell did he cheat on her with?”

That gets me an eyeroll. “It’s so typical that it’s cliché now,” Salem says. “The nanny.”

That must have been one smokin’ hot nanny because Cheyenne Parker is a gorgeous woman. Since I always think of nannies as looking like Mary Poppins, even though I know that’s not what they’re like these days, I struggle to understand stepping out on a woman you married for the one who watches your kid.

“Why do men go for the nanny?” Salem asks with more than a hint of disgust I know is aimed at Chase Parker specifically and men in general.

I shrug, not sure she’s going to like my answer. “It’s easy?”

That’s the best answer I can come up with. The nanny in these stories is rarely more beautiful than the wife. They’re younger, so maybe that’s the right answer, but I think it has more to do with the fact that the nanny is around a lot.

Salem walks her takeout container over to the garbage can and tosses it in. “And people wonder why women don’t want to get married. Go figure.”

Her mention of what I call the M word for the first time in a while makes my ears perk up. While I may not be very interested in having children, I have been thinking that the two of usgetting married wouldn’t be a bad thing. We’ve been together for years, so why would it be any different?

This is a case where my brothers could be useful. They’re always asking me if I plan on getting married anytime soon, so if I bring it up and she recoils like she always has before, I can say it’s because of them pestering me.

“Yeah, well my brothers were busting my chops about that very topic the other day,” I cautiously say, dipping just a toe into the dangerous waters of marriage plans.

When she doesn’t say anything, I quickly add, “You know them. They’re happily married, so they assume everyone around them should be too.”

She stares at me blankly, and then lets out a laugh. “You think they’d get the hint after all this time.”

“Yeah.”

I hold back the question on my mind for a few moments before adding, “But aren’t we going to eventually do it?”

For a long time, it feels like the world falls away, leaving just the two of us in our kitchen staring at one another, Salem standing over near the garbage can and me sitting at the table with the remnants of my chicken marsala meal in front of me. Every so often, I bring up the topic of marriage, and usually it’s a brief discussion where the two of us agree maybe someday.

Tonight feels different, though. The way she’s looking at me, like the very topic is turning her stomach, makes me wonder if she’s not as interested as before in the two of us making what we have permanent.

Finally, she smiles. “Maybe someday,” she says, but I get the distinct impression she’s just using that to placate me.