Page 2 of Julian Shared (Secret Lives of Hot Twinks #2)

Julian

Now

“You and Joel have been together for ten fucking years?” Minh gapes openly at my ring. A silver band with a princess cut ruby hugged by marquise diamonds.

That’s right. I nod my head and try not to let my smile slip into a smirk. Most military marriages crash out and burn up within the first few years, but Joel and I were built different. We nurtured our bond and grew together instead of growing apart.

“This was his abuelita’s wedding ring.” Though Joel and had a few moderations done. It didn’t always have the diamonds. “She passed it down to him so he could propose to me with it.”

“How romantic,” Minh sighs wistfully.

I wiggle my fingers so my ring sparkles in the sweltering afternoon sunshine.

It’s autumn, technically, even if the ever-victorious Southwest sun makes it feel like there’s not much difference between the seasons.

It still feels like summertime. Anything not in danger of melting in the heat has to be set up in the church’s front yard.

I led the charge for the sudden change, so, my muffin baskets are front and center among the outside display tables.

Today’s bake sale has been more popular than planned for. All us military spouses who volunteered to provide the baked goods went above and beyond. Everyone’s baked a little extra and we’ve run out of room inside. That’s a good thing. The more we sell, the more money we raise.

“And that’s right,” I nod as much to my handiwork as to Minh’s question. “The big ten. Our anniversary barbecue is tonight, remember?”

She doesn’t.

I can see the apology in Minh’s deep brown eyes before it even leaves her lips.

“Damn it. I’m sorry, Julian.” She taps the side of her head and then pats her swollen belly. “I can’t remember a fucking thing anymore.”

In another life, one where Minh signed enlistment papers to the Navy instead of a marriage certificate to a soldier, she would have made a fantastic sailor. She curses like one.

“That’s all right,” I tell her with a forgiving smile…and a sympathetic look.

Minh’s due to pop out her twins any day now. The whole process of pregnancy is foreign to me, but the whole idea of getting pregnant sounds like an actual horror plot.

Thank goodness Joel’s side of the family is big enough that he’s never wanted any kids of his own. I certainly don’t want to adopt any. Kids are so…sticky.

And prone to all sorts of messy, chaotic behavior.

That type of thing is totally incompatible with how I live my life these days.

“I’ll save some leftovers for you,” I tell her as I re-adjust the bow on one of my muffin baskets.

I’ve packaged them in three different varieties.

Single, half a dozen, and a baker’s dozen.

Each and every one with a red, white, and blue bow.

“And I’ll swing by tomorrow to drop them off, how does that sound, sweetie? Around one o’clock.”

“You’re a saint,” Minh sighs again. This time there’s no wist in it.

She just sounds tired. “I don’t know how the hell you do this,” she nods to my table of muffins, “or the whole happy married thing. Me and hubby are on year two and I already want to smother him in his sleep sometimes. Is that horrible?”

I choose my answer very carefully. “Well, sometimes adjusting to them being back from deployment can be as hard as living without them while they’re away.”

Not for me and Joel, of course, but I don’t want to brag.

I always missed Joel terribly when he was gone. I’m so thankful he doesn’t deploy anymore. With his rapid rise in the ranks and his assignment here at Fort Cactus, we won’t have to move again for years.

We might even get to stay here until his retirement.

Making coffee every morning and welcoming him home with a drink every night. Not having to pack up and move every other year. That’d be the dream life. You’d think a born and bred military brat like me would be made of sterner stuff, but I’m not.

It’s why my father disowned me.

Well, that and the gay thing.

Minh pats her belly. “At least he’s promised me a real ring for my push present.”

First it was gender reveals, now push presents. What will the straights think up next? I hide my distaste and glance at the plain and simple ring on Minh’s left hand.

No gem. No diamond. No pretty adornment. Drab of personal touch or inherited history.

I feel bad for her. I enjoy spending time with Minh and she might be the only housewife who actually likes me instead of just humoring my presence. She deserves nice things.

I just wish she didn’t have to wait for the arrival of motherhood to have it bestowed like a service medal.

“Why don’t you take one of these home with you?” I’m reaching for a basket and handing it over even as Minh shakes her head. A small gift. A quick treat. Nothing that can be kept and cherished forever, but she’ll be able to enjoy it for a few days.

“I can’t,” she says with a tight frown, “I only bought enough money for hubby’s stupid lemon bars.”

I won’t take no for an answer. “I got you covered. Besides, these are my famous pistachio and rosewater muffins.”

“Fuck, really?” Minh can’t snatch the basket out of my hands fast enough. “I’ve been dreaming about these ever since the Fourth of July picnic.”

“I know,” I smile, knowingly. That’s why I baked them in the first place.

There’s a flurry of activity from the door of the church. Along with the sudden smell of too much hairspray.

Sally Grace, the post commander’s wife, has finally showed up.

I check my watch. She’s not early so that means she’s late. You can always tell who fell down the military brat turned dependent pipeline versus who’s just a spouse who married into it.

When I turn my attention back at Minh, she’s already torn into the basket and has half a muffin shoved in her mouth.

“Show time,” I announce while smoothing down the lapels of my polo shirt and checking my breath. No worries there, I’m minty fresh.

“Good luck with the crazy bitch,” Minh says as she wolfs down the rest of the muffin.

“You know I’m white too?” In fact, with my pale freckled skin that only knows how to burn under the sun, I might be the whitest person on post.

“Yes, but you’re also gay and a redhead,” Minh laughs as she waddles away to safety. “The natural enemy of white blonde ladies who think they’re royalty.”

I steel myself for Sally Grace’s inspection.

As the wife of the shiniest top brass around, she has a hand in everything that happens right on Fort Cactus and even in the neighboring small town of Paradise Palms. She's the local queen bee.

Even has an old-fashioned hive styled hairdo to go with the buzz of housewives flowing like honey around her.

She never arrives or leaves anywhere alone.

Bake sales. Potlucks. Hospital visits. Picnics and barbecues.

No fundraiser, charity event, or communal party is left behind on Sally Grace’s watch. She knows everyone and goes to everything. Nobody ever leaves her off the guest list.

I’m not jealous. I’m just…okay, maybe I’m a little jealous.

Mostly because I’ve never been able to get into her inner circle. House wives only, apparently.

“Oh, Julian,” she coos as she approaches my table.

She gives it a hard, searching glance. No doubt trying to find something missing or something to fix.

There isn’t. It’s perfect. Sally Grace will have to find something else to critique.

“So happy you could make it. I wasn’t sure if you’d feel… comfortable here.”

I play dumb. I might be short, but my pride makes me feel tall even next to her towering high heels. Briefly, I glance at the wide-open, bright red door to the church. I blink and smile. “Oh, Joel and I find it very welcoming. The Easter service was so lovely.”

“Y’all attend church?” Sally Grace gasps with unmasked surprise. Her accent is the only thing real about her. “Well, that’s wonderful.”

What I’d really love to ask Sally Grace is how her Southern Baptist ass hasn’t burst into flames after walking into a Catholic church.

Technically, yes, we attend church, but only for the major holidays. Joel tosses a coin every year to decide if he’ll confess on Easter or Christmas. This year, it’ll be Christmas. Not that either of us are religious.

We prefer to do our worship in our bedroom.

The only reason we go is so it’s not technically a lie when Joel’s abuelita asks if we’re going to church.

Sally Grace turns her attention back to the muffins.

“And these are wonderful too. I just know they’ll taste as good as they look.

Now, don’t let the ladies know I said it, but you always bake the best quick-breads, Julian.

I think, maybe, you might be ready for cake duties next time. Maybe even the pies.”

She gives me a sly wink.

Finally. Cakes are my favorite and it’s killed me to sit on the sidelines waiting to prove myself.

With so many house spouses on post, you don’t just show up to these sort of events doing whatever you want.

There’s a system. There’s a hierarchy. I’ve been working my way into Sally Grace’s good graces to get out of the no-bakes and basic baking tier.

“Well, whatever you need,” I continue with my hands clasped in front of me. “I love baking and I’m always happy to help.”

“Speaking of help…” Sally Grace’s voice trails off as she sticks her nose into the air and looks around. “Where’s the other half of Team Muffin?”

Damn. Sally Grace found it. The one and only thing that’s gone wrong today.

Cameron, my neighbor and really the only other male house spouse who bothers to be involved in these sort of things, was supposed to be here to help me out.

Only, he’s not there. Cameron never showed up. Still, I cover for him.

Gay boys have to watch out for each other, right?

“Something came up with his husband. Cameron needed to stay home today.” When in doubt, blame the soldier.

“Such a dear,” Sally Grace coos. There isn’t much for either of us to say after that. She tells me she’ll keep in touch and moves on to inspect the next table.

I whip out my phone.

No missed calls. No texts. No emails.

Nothing, absolutely nothing to explain why Cameron’s gone missing. And to add insult to this social faux pas, Cameron still hasn’t RSVP-ed to tonight’s barbecue either. I checked my mailbox before I left for the bake sale.

Minh is forgetful because she’s pregnant. What in the world is Cameron’s excuse?