Page 26 of At His Wife's Behest

“Why?I suggested this place.”

“You’re here as my companion. You shouldn’t need to pay for anything.”

Connor scoffed. “I’m not going to bicker over who picks up the check.” He scanned a brochure he’d apparently picked up at the window. “Hopefully that Spanish of yours comes in handy for this.” He shoved it toward Kellan, map side first.

“I’ll do my best.”

Kellan followed the signs to the entrance. Connor walked slowly through the garden, slowing progress. He didn’t rush, surveying everything, pausing to sniff a flower here or there. Reaching for his phone, he snapped a few photos. His head swung in Kellan’s direction. “Do you see this? It’s gorgeous. Not sure what kind of flower it is. I need to research it later.”

“You like flowers, hmm?”

“Is that a problem?” Connor replied, cocking his head to the side.

Kellan snorted.

“What was that for?” Connor asked as he sidled up beside him.

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’mnotreally 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 ateverything.Flowers, fauna, architecture, art…I want to see itall.”

“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 sosoft…“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…

“Butwhat?”

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

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.

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