Invitation

Auden

I stare at the two invitations in my hand—one addressed to me, plus one and one for Mark, plus one. I’m trying very hard not to grit my teeth.

I’ve never in my entire life felt the kind of possessive streak that I do right now.

Raising my eyes, I meet Rhodes’. He’s smirking. Fucker knows exactly what he’s doing. He can likely see the tick in my jaw as I try not to rage right now.

“Will you be bringing a plus one?” Rhodes asks.

“Just put us down for two,” I tell him, impressed that I keep my tone even.

“Two each? So you’re taking the plus ones?”

“Rhodes,” I warn.

“You need to deliver this to Mark, Dad. You can’t make his decision for him. Not unless he’s your partner. You know, officially. Is that the case?”

“Get out of my house.”

Rhodes has always had a very good innocent face. I’m not sure when he mastered it, but the little fucker is always looking at me like he has no idea what I’m talking about, and I’m losing my mind for no reason at all.

Which, okay, right now, I am. This is an internal crisis. One he’s not necessarily wrong about.

“Out,” I repeat. “Take your pack and leave my house. Now.”

“So does that mean—”

“Rhodes, so fucking help me. Two. That’s all. Not four. No plus ones. Two. Now get out.”

“You haven’t—”

“Now.” I lengthen the word, emphasizing each sound.

He sighs. “Fine. Come on, pups. Grampy is grumpy today.”

The wolves get to their feet and follow Rhodes out of the kitchen. I have half a mind to throw the damn invitations in the trash. That plus one after both of our names is irrationally pissing me off.

The clicking of nails on my tile has me turning. One of the wolves comes toward me with a stuffed animal in its mouth. The purple collar tells me it’s Floofy Pants. He stops and shoves his stuffie into my hand, big eyes looking up at me.

“I can tell you’re mocking me, too,” I tell him as I take the stuffed bunny from him. He waits until I pat his head and thank him before leaving me. The front door shuts a minute later. “Little bitches,” I mutter and turn to the kitchen counter.

The thirty-six individually wrapped long-stemmed roses of various colors are bundled in a paper cone on my counter. I feel foolish. I’ve never bought someone flowers before, and it feels fucking foolish.

Maybe it feels so foolish because of Rhodes’ visit. The way he smirked at the flowers and then handed me the wedding invitations with an even bigger smug smile as they sent me over the edge and I struggled not to lose my shit makes the flowers feel foolish.

Maybe they feel like they’re not enough. Are they too corny? Expected?

I drop the invitations on the cutting board and run a hand through my hair as I look at Floofy Pants’ stuffed animal. I’m shit at romantic gestures. A year into this thing with Mark and beyond the brief exchange in the truck when I took him from the torture facility, we haven’t had a single conversation about what’s happening between us. There’s been no exchanging of emotions. No labeling what we are. Nothing.

Maybe the reason I’ve never been in a relationship isn’t that the interest hasn’t been there. Maybe it’s because, at fifty-four, I’m still not emotionally mature enough to have a simple, perhaps vulnerable conversation with another person.

Is it the idea of being rejected? Not to sound arrogant, but I’ve never been rejected. I don’t go somewhere that I’m sure I’m not going to get a yes.

The front door opens, and my shoulders tense. If that’s my fucking son here to continue harassing me, I’m going to kick his ass.

My heart jumps into my throat as Mark steps into the kitchen. He stops abruptly as he meets my eyes. “What’re you doing home?” he asks.

“I live here. You?”

He huffs. “You’re home early.”

“As are you. Why?”

I adjust my position in the kitchen so he doesn’t see the bouquet and somehow manage to clutch the stuffed animal to my chest. I meant to hide them around the house. Or at least, make a path. Or something. Admittedly, I hadn’t fully formed the plan yet. I thought I had time.

My first thought was to purchase three hundred and sixty-five. One for every single day that we’ve been… sleeping together. It felt like a big enough gesture that he could convey from it that it wasn’t just sex anymore. I’m relatively certain he already knows that, but just in case, a whole lot of flowers should push the message home, right?

Neither of us has moved. Our eyes are still locked. Hmm. Perhaps I can fuck him until he’s passed out and then move on with my flower plan so they’re properly placed by the time he wakes up? Not that I have a plan.

Mark comes further into the room, and I hold up a hand. Conveniently, the hand with the dog toy, which has Mark’s attention for a brief, amused moment. “Stop.” He does, eyebrows knit together and meets my eyes again. I don’t want him to see the roses. How can I make him turn around so I can push them off the counter?

“What’s wrong?” Mark asks.

I sigh. “You ruined it.” Grumpily, I grab the cluster of three dozen flowers and close the distance between us, shoving them into his chest and tossing the toy on the counter instead. “I had big plans for these.” I leave out the fact that the plan hadn’t gotten beyond bringing them home.

He appears startled. His eyes linger on mine for a minute before turning his attention to the roses. My heart is ready to beat its way out of my chest. They’re stupid, right? I completely missed the mark. Jesus, I might pass out.

A smile touches his lips, and Mark lowers his face into the roses. His eyes close as he inhales. “What’re they for?” he asks.

“Uh… It’s the anniversary of the first time I put my dick in you. Maybe you needed nice things to acknowledge that moment.”

His smile climbs. “You know the date that happened, do you?”

“Yes. I remember dates.”

Mark licks his lips. He moves to the table and sets his messenger bag down. I watch as he pulls out a single rose and hands it to me, his fingers just below the bud that isn’t fully open.

“What’s this for?” I ask as I take it from him.

“Same thing. I remember dates too.”

My eyes meet his, hand pausing in bringing the flower to my face. “You do.”

“Of course. Best sex of my life. It was worth noting on the calendar.”

I hum, smiling. Yes, it fucking is. Glad he knows that. My attention turns back to the flower, and I bring it to my nose. I’m not the biggest fan of flowers. They die. It’s always felt like a silly gesture—gifting someone important to you something that’s going to die almost immediately. Maybe it’s a metaphor for the situation. Yes, I love you today, but it’ll fade over time. Congratulations on this huge accomplishment, but we’re going to dismiss it in just a few days.

The decay of the flower is a timeline. By the time it dies, the reason it was given has been forgotten. Life moves on as if it never happened.

Still, I stick my nose in the flower because that’s what people do. It smells like a rose. It’s kind of cute that we had the same idea, right? I’m going to take that as a sign that we don’t have to have a conversation of any kind. We’re obviously on the same page.

I pull the rose away and look at the petals. Something glints. I shift the rose and examine it a little more. Does Mark know there’s something stuffed within the petals? Wait, what is it?

Gently, careful not to hurt the petals, I try to dig it out. It’s not difficult. The petals have already been disrupted, apparently to put this…

A ring. My eyes widen as I stare at it. Is this? No. Accidental. Mark’s order was confused with someone else’s, but it looks suspiciously like it would fit on my finger. It’s beautiful too, with dark metal patterns and diamond studs littered throughout. I shift it between my fingers so I can look at the whole thing. It’s wonderful.

I raise my eyes to meet Mark’s. He watches me. Oh my god, he put this here!

“We avoid talking about anything serious, like it’s going to kill us, so I’m not going to say more than I have to. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Auden.”

My breath whooshes from my lungs. Chills cover my body. Seriously?

Reaching for him, I pull Mark into my arms and squeeze him until he grunts. I don’t know when he put the flowers down, but I’m glad he did. They’d be crushed because I don’t want anything between us right now. Even the clothes are a little much.

I bite his neck hard, feeling him jerk in my arms. Fuck. The emotion swirling inside me feels like a hurricane.

“You going to answer?” Mark asks.

“I didn’t hear a question. Just a statement.”

He huffs and pushes me backward. I don’t let him go, even as he forces my hands between us. He takes the ring from my hands and slides it onto my finger. Then his eyes meet mine again. “Marry me,” he murmurs. “Then we can continue to never talk about anything for the rest of our lives.”

I nod. “That’s still not a question.”

Mark sighs. “You’re being obstinate.”

“You sure you want to live with that until you die?”

His smile is small. Just as beautiful as the ring. “Every day.”

“For the record, that’s how you ask a question. It’s all about the inflection on the proper word. Now you try.”

His eyelids hood as he glares at me. “Will. You. Marry. Me?”

“I don’t feel like you really mean that question.”

“Auden,” he warns.

I don’t let him finish that warning as I press my mouth to his and kiss him until we’re both breathless. “Yes,” I murmur against his mouth. “I want nothing as much as I want to be your husband.”

Mark exhales as his lips curl into a soft smile. “Good.”

“Speaking of marrying someone. Rhodes is being a little bitch with invitations, but I set him right.”

“Do I even need to ask?”

“No. I think this pretty ring you put on my finger will do enough talking.”

“You’re wrong. It’s going to bring a whole lot of questions and comments from many people who will expect a response.”

“Sucks to be them. I don’t give in to expectations.”

“Is that right?”

“What expectations do you have of me as your husband? Perhaps we do need to talk about this.” There’s no mistaking the tease in my tone.

Mark rolls his eyes. “You already exceed my expectations, Auden,” he answers, voice as soft as his fingers brushing along my beard. “Every day. You’re far more than I ever imagined coming home to. Don’t change.”

I rest my forehead against his and hold him securely in my arms. “Do I need to say the words, or can you just infer from all the flowers how I feel?”

His smile climbs. “You never need to tell me you love me. I know. I love you, too.”

“Mark,” I whine. “You’re not supposed to say it! It’s like the floor is lava. Now you’re on fire, and all the pressure is on me.”

He laughs. “Ridiculous.”

I grip him under his ass and lift his feet. “There’s a scene in a volcano movie where some hero walks a little girl or a woman or something through lava in a subway tunnel to get them to safety while they burn to death.”

“This is a wonderful conversation.”

“I’ll carry you through the lava, Mark. Which means your feet can’t touch the floor.”

“Ah. I see how you tied that in.”

His smile is my favorite part of every day. I kiss him softly. “You know what?”

“What?” he murmurs, still running his fingers along my beard.

“I love you too.”

His eyes rise to mine, and I think they’re glistening. That could be a trick played by his glasses, though.

“You’re right. Let’s not play the lava game anymore. It’s far too serious.”

This man is perfectly everything that I’d never dreamed of having. I never knew what I wanted. I didn’t have a vision of the future. I was content to be single.

My life would have forever been incomplete.

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