Page 12 of At His Wife’s Behest

Kellan walked closer to the door, Connor falling into pace beside him. “Never judge a book by its cover.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you surprise me. I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re a first-grade teacher for god’s sake.”

Connor frowned. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”

“You’re a jock. Six foot whatever, muscled, bearded—” he paused, shaking his head. “You just don’t look like a first-grade teacher. Nor someone who stops to smell the roses.”

“For the record, I’m not really into flowers. I kill everything I try to grow. But we’re in Italy. I doubt I’ll ever make it back here on a teacher’s salary, so I’m looking at everything. Flowers, fauna, architecture, art… I want to see it all.”

“Noted.”

“Now I have a question for you.”

Kellan lifted a brow. “Shoot.”

“Why can’t a six-foot something jock teach first grade? Or stop to smell the flowers?”

Kellan hedged, realizing he’d sounded exactly like his father. Don’t act like a fag, Kellan. Don’t wear purple. Don’t cry. Stop being so soft… “I suppose there’s… nothing wrong with it.”

“Nope. There isn’t.” He stepped closer to Kellan.

“You’re not the first one to make a note of my profession as if a man isn’t capable of nurturing and educating young children, but I do have to admit I’m a bit shocked to hear it come from you.

You seem to be a very dedicated father, nurturing and teaching your own daughter. ”

“Yeah, but…” I’m not like you…

“But what?”

Kellan shrugged, unwilling to open his mouth and share his own bias.

“Because I’m not femme, I can’t have a soft side. Is that it?”

Kellan met Connor’s heated stare, face warming.

“Men can be whatever they want. They can nurture. They can enjoy beautiful flowers. They can show emotion. And they can love other men.”

Kellan tensed.

“You need to reprogram that brain of yours. Delete all the data your father entered. Being in-tune with who you are, with your environment, with your emotions—that’s a sign of strength.

” Connor moved an inch closer. “It doesn’t make you girly or a fag or anything else that asshole told you. It makes you human.”

Tears stung the backs of Kellan’s eyes, and he hated himself for it.

He’d always struggled to contain his emotions, and his father hadn’t helped in that department.

It was as if the worse his father beat him for it, the worse it had gotten.

Thirty years of induced shame was difficult to erase.

He turned his head away, but Connor wouldn’t let him.

He snagged Kellan’s chin and tucked two strong fingers under it.

“Your father took a boy and filled him with shame. That’s abuse in my book.”

Kellan tensed, the shadows of the past always close. “Are you calling me a victim?”

“No.” Connor released his chin and caressed his cheek. “We all have people in our past who’ve crossed lines. Some more than others. Our parents and caregivers had their own prejudices and childhood trauma to contend with. Mistakes are made. I’m sure you’ve don’t things you regret with Abigail.”

Kellan nodded. He worked hard not to pass his bullshit down to her, but he’d had missteps. Being confronted with his own narrow-mindedness in that moment made him realize maybe he’d screwed up more than he realized.

“If we let those bad moments define who we are, we let people like your father win. Don’t let him define you.” He pressed a kiss to Kellan’s forehead and gazed down.

Kellan inhaled, wanting another kiss. To taste Connor on his lips and tongue.

To let the unlearning begin then and there.

He opened his mouth, hunger raging… but he remained silent. Kiss him.

There was hunger in Connor’s eyes, too.

Kiss me.

Connor smiled before moving past… and the moment was gone. He just saw how damaged I am. Why would he want to kiss me now?

Kellan stood rooted to the spot, Connor’s comments digging deep. Don’t let him define you.

When he spun toward the entrance, he saw Connor waiting. He approached hesitantly; not sure he was ready for more of the man’s insights—or where they’d lead him. He didn’t want to relive the pain of the past.

What am I saying? I relive it every fucking day of my life.

Letting my father win.

He paused inches away from Connor, who reached for his hand.

Kellan stared at the hand, instinct screaming. For once, he ignored his inner policing. Connor’s fingers entwined with his. He glanced down at their hands, instinct screaming to pull away. He fought the urge, tightening his grip and lifting his gaze to Connor.

Choose to be something more.

Connor grinned, a dimple Kellan had yet to notice appearing above his beard line. “Let’s go.”

They entered the museum, marveling over the pieces, with Kellan doing a piss-poor job of translating.

It was enough for them to get the idea. Kellan wasn’t as interested in the art or the furniture or the architecture.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Connor… or the sensation of their joined hands.

His heart sped, the simple joy of having his hand held was almost too much for him to process.

After the museum, they explored the town of Varenna.

They strolled along the Riva Grande before they stopped for a midday meal.

Another ferry ride brought them to town of Bellagio where they ended up traveling to the Salita Mella —which they’d been told was one of the most Instagrammed locations in the world.

The narrow alleyway was filled with bright, colorful shops and eateries that held a certain French style, in his opinion, with second and third story wrought iron balconies reminiscent of his trips to the French Quarter in New Orleans.

In one of the shops, Kellan found a necklace for Emma and a bracelet for Abigail and tucked them into the large pocket of his lightweight jacket.

As the sun began its descent, they climbed aboard the ferry one last time, headed back to the villa.

They were both exhausted from their travels—he more than Connor.

He’d struggled to keep up with Connor’s level of energy.

He supposed being a first-grade teacher, Connor needed that kind of stamina to corral fifteen six-year-olds day in and day out.

A chill filled the air once the sun set. Connor moved in close, wrapping an arm around his back. He smiled, realizing the voice in his head had gone silent after one day of being ignored. He leaned his head on Connor’s shoulder, reveling in the small intimacy of the moment.

Once home, Connor heated the dinner Ana Maria had left for them. Kellan excused himself for a phone call. Emma answered on the third ring.

“I was beginning to think you were too busy to call home,” she said, a hint of humor to her voice.

“We’ve been exploring today.”

“Exploring one another, I hope.”

Kellan scoffed. “Varenna and Bellagio.”

“What time is it there? Six?”

“Seven,” Kellan remarked.

“Not too late. The exploring of Kellan can happen later tonight.”

“Em—”

“What?” she asked, almost thrumming with joy from the other end.

“Don’t think I don’t see through you.”

“Meaning?”

Kellan sat on the edge of the bed, stretching his tired legs. “You’re trying to push me into coming out.”

“Not even,” Emma said. “I simply wanted to show you what you’re denying yourself. What you do with that information is up to you.”

“But you want me to come out,” Kellan replied.

“Kel, if you don’t want to, so be it. I won’t make you do anything—but—you needed reminding that you aren’t simply Abigail’s father. You’re a man with needs. Needs we all have. Needs I know aren’t being met.”

Kellan closed his eyes.

“I can’t be that person for you… so I found a person and a place to allow you a glimpse of who you could be.”

“Are you even putting the villa up for sale?”

“Maybe. Not this week or even this month. I just needed to get you as far from Texas as I could without you guessing what I was doing.”

Kellan grunted. “Can I talk to our daughter?”

“Sure. If you tell me how attractive he is and if you’ve tapped that ass yet.”

“No tapping,” Kellan answered.

“Kel! Get with it.”

Kellan laid back on the bed, starring up at the ceiling, a grin on his face. “There might’ve been a kiss.”

Emma let out a whoop. “Who kissed who?”

“He did. Last night.”

“And you didn’t immediately jump into bed with him?”

“I did not.”

“What a waste!” Emma scoffed. “You’ve ignored my other question, Kel.”

“Hmm?” Sure, he’d ignored it. He didn’t want to out their daughter’s teacher, even if he knew Emma would be accepting.

“Is he attractive?”

“Very attractive,” he finally answered, knowing Emma wouldn’t let up until she got some kind of answer.

“Well, alright, alright, alright,” she slurred in her best Matthew McConaughey voice.

He heard Abigail babbling away and he smiled. “Now let me talk to Abby.”

“Fine,” Emma said. The next voice he heard lifted his spirits.

“Daddy! Are you having fun in Italy?”

“I am, baby girl. I bought you a gift today when I was exploring one of the towns. I can’t wait to see you so I can give it to you.”

“When are you coming home?”

“It’s only been a couple of days. I’ll be here a few more.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, baby.”

Abigail proceeded to recount her swimming lesson, the bird she’d found in the backyard with a broken wing that she and Ms. Price had nursed back to health and was residing in the sunroom birdcage (that was a plant holder, not a cage, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her that), and the delicious lunch Mrs. Jacobs had made her that afternoon.

“Can we keep the bird, Daddy?”

“Darling, that’s a wild creature. Wild creatures deserve to live free and uncaged.

” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he tensed.

Did he deserve to live free and uncaged?

For a few more days, he had the opportunity.

After that? He wasn’t so sure. “When it’s healed, we’ll need to release it. ”

“But I wanna bird.”

“Maybe we can look into getting you a pet when you’re a little older.”

“I’m older now.”