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Sawyer
Kurt paced the living room while I sat on the couch drinking a smoothie. Tonight we were having dinner with Kurt’s father. Bastard. Using his son for money year after year riled me beyond measure. At least Lana had insisted Kurt not pay him another dime. From our phone conversations, I knew she was nervous and had gone to stay with her sister for a bit in case things got ugly. It was tough.
In a week, when we celebrated Kurt’s birthday, we’d be freed of this asshole. This year, Kurt simply wanted to spend time together. No party. No big production. Only mint chocolate chip cookies. Good thing my neighbor made some of the best in town.
I watched the clock—the hour was approaching when the sperm donor was due to arrive. Ugh. At least we’d decided to have dinner catered in one of the conference rooms downstairs instead of bringing him into our home.
Kurt’s heavy boots clunked against the floor as he paced.
“Kurt, everything is going to be fine.”
“Yeah.”
That was the fifteenth yeah he’d said in a row. Inside, he was a mess and not ready to process it. I took another sip as he wore a hole in the floor. George had given up trying to keep up with him and sat in a white heap of fur at my feet. Every few times around, Kurt would check his phone. When I was in the other room, he’d seemed a little more anxious, so I set up shop in the living room to work for a while.
My phone vibrated.
Cameron: Landed.
Me: Glad you made it home.
Cameron: Me, too.
Cameron had been in Denver, trying to see Adriane. For three days, he tried, but our sister would not see him. The facility had asked him to leave due to the stress it placed on “Matilda.” What a crock of shit.
Cameron was having a hard time facing what my parents had done. And they weren’t providing any explanations. After visiting the facility each day, Cameron had gone to my parents’ house, but they wouldn’t come to the door. They watched from upstairs as their son pleaded with them to open the door and let him in.
Heartless.
“Who was that?” Kurt asked, flexing his hands as he completed another revolution.
“Cameron. I think it’s been rough for him to face how terrible our parents are. I’ve had more time to process it and work through my emotions.”
“Yeah. You okay?”
I would not say yeah. The word was about to drive me nuts. “I am. Just thumbing through house plans and making notes of what I like.”
“Anything specific?”
“I don’t want it to be too big. I want it to feel like a home. And I want to try to figure out how to have places to sit and enjoy the view without putting in a balcony.”
“I like that idea. We could do a conservatory with lots of sliding windows. Would that work?”
Kurt’s posture grew less rigid and his hands relaxed. At least we were making progress. “I like that idea.”
His phone vibrated, and he stiffened. “He’s here.”
I stood and walked over to Kurt. “We’ve got this. I’ll be by your side the entire time.”
“I don’t want my mom to get hurt because of this.”
Raising my eyebrow, I looked him in the eye. “Then take the upper hand. You’re Kurt fucking Hendrix who has super sperm.”
“Hell yeah!”
That seemed to help. The darkness crept closer as the elevator descended to the first floor. Steve—who’d just returned last week—met us at the elevator. “Your father has been swept and his phone confiscated until the meeting is over.”
“Thanks, Steve. Let’s get this over with.”
