Brie
Guy hits me with a smile as he takes the bowl I’m offering him. “Thank you.”
“Really, don’t thank me,” I grumble, sitting down on the edge of his long wooden coffee table. “I’m the whole reason your face looks like that.”
He shrugs. “Thankfully, I no longer financially rely on my face.”
His attempt at lightening the situation isn’t missed.
Even you smiled a little.
“And technically, you aren’t the one who punched me in the face. Your husband did.” Guy shovels a bite of banana frozen yogurt into his mouth. “Thought you said he used to play lacrosse, not that he was a boxer.”
I cross my legs. “He wasn’t.”
“Explain that to my throbbing nose.”
“Are the pain killers not strong enough?”
He leans his back against the gray couch pillows. “Not sure they’ve kicked in yet.”
My face falls and so do my eyes.
Cannot believe he hit him in the face! What? No. Don’t do that! Don’t take Kellan’s side on this one. I haven’t backhanded Beach Bimbo Barbie in spite of her numerous aggravations, so he damn sure shouldn’t have swung at an innocent person like Guy. We’re all adults. You don’t get to hit someone any more for trying to ‘steal’ your best friend or girlfriend or in this case wife. Which he wasn’t. You can’t steal a person who isn’t willing to go…Well, in this aspect. We’re not talking about Taken or anything. You ever wonder why they just wouldn’t leave Liam Neeson alone after that first movie?
After swallowing another bite, Guy gives my leg a light kick to look up. “Are you alright?”
I give him a sarcastic expression. “I’m not the one who’s wearing the baby of Freddy Krueger and Michael Myers on my face.”
He groans at the comparison. “That’s a horrifying image.”
“So is what they did to your face.”
“You heard the doctor. This is best alternative to surgery. If I have to look like a mutant villain for a couple weeks, then fine. Beats the hell out of going under.”
Basically his ultimate fear after an aunt of his had a poor response to the anesthesia. Like almost didn’t wake up…
“Seriously, though.” He stirs the treat around the bowl, creating the whipped consistency he prefers. “Are you alright? Those were…harsh words you threw at him.”
I glare. “So now you’re on his side?”
His head bobs back and forth for a moment.
“Seriously!? After all he’s put me through lately? After all the shit he said to you!?”
“Now wait a minute,” he wedges the bowl between his legs, “I didn’t say I was, but I can’t actually sit here and tell you I’m on yours either.”
The rebuttal drops my jaw.
“You know, above anyone else, I completely understand where you’re coming from. How locked out you feel at times. How ignored. How alienated. How sometimes you fear you will never be more than something for Kellan than a convenience.”
Hearing him line out my insecurities picks it back up and tightens it.
“But…I understand the irrational response to feeling like the center of your universe is being threatened. How everyone is the enemy. How you hit first and realize what an arsehole you were later. I’m not sitting here trying to play devil’s advocate. I swear. I’m simply saying, I’ve been on both sides of this situation. You’re both justified in your anger. And…truth be told I might’ve purposely pushed him past his breaking point.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Meaning?”
Guy sheepishly looks down at his bowl of ice cream. “I…may or may not have crossed a line to rile him up.”
It’s my turn to nudge him with my foot to recapture his attention. When his eyes meet mine, I lift my eyebrows in question.
“Okay, so I was a bit angry at him for standing you up like he did this morning. I mean, today of all bloody days, was the day you truly needed him. Not me. Not Kris or Soph or your father, but him. Your bloody spouse. I just…I kept seeing that vision of you trying not to cry in my car and snapped. Probably a little hard. But he needed to hear it. I didn’t think he’d haul off and hit me.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that either. He’s definitely always been more of a mouthy asshole than a physical one.”
Silence nestles between us and I divert my attention out the large glass window behind him. The view of downtown from his apartment differs tremendously from the one I’ve become a major fan of. While his place has three large windows behind the long gray sofa and three more across from the main area of the kitchen, they only capture one very specific view, neighboring high priced apartments and trendy food shops down at the bottom. Our penthouse allows me to view what feels like the entire city and the breathtaking view of the river in the distance. It’s an awe inspiring vision first thing in the morning when the sun is bringing to life an entire world you’re still barely learning to be in. The fact I get to do it from the pinnacle is humbling.
You know, when my husband isn’t convincing me it’s early enough to not get caught by cameras.
The sound of a door opening diverts my attention over my shoulder to the hallway that connects to the entryway.
Stephen rounds the corner, texting on his phone. “Darling, you home?”
Isn’t it weird they look like they could be Celebrity Weekly twins? The blonde and the brunette version of the same person?! I didn’t believe that whole couples who spend too much time together start to look alike thing until I met them. In fairness, they have a couple distinct differences like Stephen’s light facial hair and Guy’s slightly smaller stature. But they look close enough to ask the creepy question are you boning your cousin?
Guy doesn’t bother retorting. He simply stuffs another bite into his mouth and waits to be properly greeted.
We share many similarities I haven’t mentioned in major detail…
Finally, his boyfriend looks up and the look of concern on his face is faith reaffirming.
He may take a bit of reminding that there is life off of his phone, but when it comes to Guy’s safety, sanity, or security, his entire world seems to always stop. Last week I watched him spend twenty-five minutes comparing the most effective ways to nurse a burn after Guy accidently touched a scalding pot. Once he decided on the best, I was put in charge of stirring while he tenderly treated his lover. They’re very good together…When they get to be together.
“What the bloody hell happened to you?” He says in a barely audible voice as he rushes across the room.
“I’m fine,” Guy insists at the same time Stephen plops down.
“You are not fine. You have a bandage the size of Westburg on your face!”
One of the largest territories in this country. Yeah. Fun fact to learn for the test I am praying to death I didn’t bomb. I was so flustered with frustration over Kellan’s disappearance, then lack of communicating his whereabouts and his return that I had a bit of a hard time focusing. Ugh. And the test itself? Imagine all your exit finals being merged together to create one mega final. Done? Now multiply that by fifty. One thing’s for sure. They don’t just let anybody be a teacher in this country.
“I’m fine…”
“What happened?”
Guy cuts me a glance, which Stephen immediately sees.
Stephen’s eyebrow dart down. “Did you do this? Did you sock him for something stupid he said?”
“Well I didn’t…”
His befuddled expression returns.
Guy offers me his empty bowl to place down on the table. “Her lovely husband hit me.”
“Why on earth would he do that?!”
My friend hesitates his confession. “I…provoked him.”
“You provoked one of the princes of our country to punch you in the face?” Stephen swings his eyes to me and I surrender my hands in innocence. He returns his stern expression to his boyfriend. “Why? How? Do I need to risk my freedom during an attempt to retaliate?” His palm lands on Guy’s face and he angles it his direction. “And most importantly are you really alright?”
Guy places a short kiss on his lips. “I truly am. We went to the hospital. The physician got it examined. It’s broken, but the splint and pain killers will handle the major damage that was caused. You do not need to worry nor do you need to consult online readings on how to handle it. It’s been properly handled.”
Stephen nods slowly and resumes examining the handy work. “And as for why you were hit? And do I need to hit back?”
“No. There’s no need for that.” He gives me a short glance before informing us both, “I called him a prick.”
“What!?” We snap in unison.
“He deserved it!” Guy rushes to justify. “He was being a prick. First for standing Brie up then for slamming me into a wall for being a supportive friend and lastly for accusing me of trying to take his wife away from him.”
Stephen pinches the bridge of his own nose as he collects his thoughts.
“Wait. He slammed you into a wall first?”
Guy reluctantly nods.
Did you know about this? When did my husband turn into the Incredible Hulk?
There’s a giant huff out of Stephen. He drapes one arm around the back of the sofa and directs his question at his boyfriend. “Why would he accuse you of that?”
“He wasn’t aware I was gay. Though he is now…”
“Sorry again,” I sheepishly whisper.
“How did he not know?”
“Maybe because I forgot to dip myself in glitter today and ring my rainbow bell.”
The sarcastic remark causes Stephen to roll his eyes.
Guy’s not ‘in the closet’ as many would try to label. He’s just more private in regards to his love life than you would expect. While he’s open and honest about his entire life, from his love of French films to his severe disgust with educational systems in other countries, he prefers his true personal life to remain that way. To keep the matters of his heart exactly there. Hell, the apartment may be filled with pictures of the two of them but he isn’t flaunting it anywhere else. No social media. Not even a background on his phone. He’s just one of those people who believe his romantic relationship is his and his to discuss with only those of his trusted choosing. My shouting it crossed a line. He let me have an ear full about it while we were waiting to see the doctor.
“He also wasn’t aware I was seeing anyone. Perhaps that’s because my boyfriend can hardly break himself away from work long enough for me to plan a possible dinner for the four of us.”
Stephen grouses, “You really want to do this now? In front of Brie?”
“Why not?” Guy shrugs. “She’s in the same boat.”
I am…most of the time.
“Look what happened when it all bubbled to the surface after ignoring it.” He points to his nose. “I’m not saying she’s going to pop you in the mouth, but be careful. I believe she probably packs some punch especially with her ring hand.” Guy makes an attempt to lighten the situation. “Come on. You’ve seen the thing. You know how it hypnotizes you if you stare too long.”
The three of us share a small laugh. “It’s not that big.”
“Trust me,” Stephen sighs, “as a man who spends a ridiculous amount of time appraising items. Yes. It really is that big. And expensive.” He gives his boyfriend a sweet look. “We will discuss my schedule and a shared date with the Kenningstons later. In private. I promise. As for now how about I order the three of us some take out from the Mexican restaurant around the corner?”
“Extra cheese,” we croak together.
“You two are like bloody twins,” he grunts and places a kiss on Guy’s cheek.
Once he saunters away to the right for the kitchen, Guy stretches his legs out across the couch. “You’re welcome to stay here for however long you need, but you do know you are eventually going to have to go home.” I open my mouth and he adds, “And I don’t mean your place in the states, Brie.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I grump. “I know…”
“Look, I understand you’re not in the mood to discuss Kellan or his latest actions, but can I make a suggestion?”
I give him a nod to continue.
“While I am truly hoping your words earlier were just spoken out of anger and not actual belief, I can’t help but feel you’re at a crossroads with your marriage. There’s an exercise I do in every relationship that has been rather beneficial. I have a friend in Canada who is a relationship counselor. He has his patients, or clients if you prefer to call them, do this upon their first session and again after their six weeks of participation is up. You take a piece of paper and fold it into thirds to create three columns. The titles are ‘Love’, ‘The Tolerable’ and ‘Hate.’ You sit alone, in a quiet space, for at least thirty minutes and think over your entire relationship. You place everything underneath the appropriate category. At the end of the exercise if the hate outweighs the rest, it’s time to walk away. If it’s love then you need to confront him and push forward.”
“And if it’s just tolerable?”
“Then you have to answer a question only you can. Is there enough love in your heart to continue to try to make things work or have you finally had enough?”
My bottom lip tucks itself between my teeth.
Would you honestly blame me if I have? How much is one person supposed to tolerate before it’s too much?