Page 99 of Sliding into Love
"Perfect. I was running too late to eat." He lets me guide him to the empty seat beside mine, greeting my family warmly. Bellamy shoots me an I told you so look that I steadfastly ignore.
Kenneth settles in, accepting the slice of cake that a server brings him, and the normalcy of it—him here, beside me, charming my parents and joking with Bellamy—makes my chest feel too tight.
"This is incredible," he says after his first bite of dessert. "Royce, your family knows how to throw an event."
"Mama’s the mastermind. I just show up and look presentable."
"You do more than that," she says from across the table. "Royce has been instrumental in planning tonight. The entire program for the pediatric wing was their idea."
"It was a team effort."
"Take the compliment," Kenneth murmurs, his hand finding mine under the table. "You're allowed to be proud of what you've accomplished."
His thumb traces patterns on my palm, the same gesture that grounds me every time. I squeeze his hand in response, grateful beyond words that he's here.
The speeches begin shortly after dessert. My father talks about the Foundation's mission. A doctor from the hospital explains what the new wing will provide. A mother shares her story about her daughter's treatment and recovery that was aided by the programs we’ve established. It's moving and powerful, and by the end there's not a dry eye in the ballroom.
Then the orchestra starts up again, playing music that’s slow and romantic. Couples begin moving toward the dance floor.
"Dance with me," Kenneth says, standing and offering his hand.
I hesitate. Dancing together, here, in front of everyone is a statement. A declaration that we're together. That this is serious. That we're not hiding.
"Royce." He's still holding out his hand, waiting patiently. "Dance with me. Please."
I take his hand and let him lead me to the dance floor.
His arm slides around my waist, pulling me close, while I rest my hands behind his neck. We start moving to the music, and despite the dozens of eyes I can feel watching us, all I can focus on is Kenneth.
"You look beautiful tonight," he says quietly. "I should have told you that first thing, but I got distracted by how relieved Iwas that you didn't hate me for being late. This dress is sinful. And the heels are the perfect touch.”
"I could never hate you." I let my fingernails play with the hair at the nape of his neck. They’re long and red, to match the heels he mentioned. "Though you did have me convinced you weren't coming."
He spins me gently, and I follow his lead easily. "I'm sorry. Really. I should have responded to your invitation immediately. But I wanted to make sure everything was handled. That there were no loose ends that could interrupt tonight."
"Your mother?"
"Is still furious, but that's her problem, not mine." He pulls me closer. "Tonight is about you. About supporting a cause you care about. About being here with you publicly, showing everyone that I'm proud to be with you."
My breath catches. "Kenneth?—"
"I know we haven't talked about that night," he continues, his voice low enough that only I can hear over the music. "When I answered your phone and heard Carver. When you told me about helping people escape dangerous situations."
The mention of it makes my body tense instinctively. We've been avoiding this conversation, dancing around it for days.
"We don't have to talk about it now," I say.
"We do, actually." He meets my eyes, his expression serious. "Because I've been thinking about it constantly, and I need you to know I'm not scared. I'm not running. What you do, helping people who need it, it's incredible. Dangerous, yes, and it terrifies me that you put yourself at risk. But it's also exactly the kind of thing you would do. The kind of person you are."
"Kenneth—"
"Let me finish." His hand tightens on my waist. "I know you were worried about telling me. About pulling me into that world. But Royce, I'm already in. The moment I fell for you, I was in. Allof you, including the parts you think are too complicated or too dangerous to share."
The words hit me like a physical force. Around us, other couples are dancing, the orchestra is playing, and my world has narrowed to just Kenneth and the sincerity in his eyes.
"There are things I still can't tell you," I say carefully. "Details about specific cases, names of people I've helped. It's for their safety, not because I don't trust you."
"I understand that. And I'm not asking for details I shouldn't have." He spins me again, and I realize he's maneuvered us toward the edge of the dance floor, away from the crowd. "What I'm asking for is honesty about the broad strokes. About when you'll be gone for days coordinating a transfer. About when you're putting yourself in potential danger. About being partners in all of this, not just the easy parts."
