Page 105 of Sliding into Love
"Why?"
"Because we already spend a lot of time together outside of work. We'd be around each other constantly. We'd probably burn out this thing between us.”
Royce takes another sip of their disgusting cold coffee. “Did you forget how this all started? We’ve already worked together.We managed fine then. I imagine now will be even better since we can skip the animosity portion.”
“That’s completely different."
"How?" they ask, genuinely curious rather than argumentative. "We communicate well. We respect each other professionally. You know exactly how I operate. You know the stadium inside and out. You'd be perfect for this. What are you afraid of?”
I lean against the opposite counter, and we stare at each other across the kitchen island. Royce is doing that thing where they're being logical and reasonable, which makes it harder to dismiss their idea out of hand. I hate when they do that.
"What about the optics? Your partner working for you? People will say you hired me back because we're dating."
"People are idiots," Royce says flatly. "Anyone who actually knows us knows you should never have left. Besides, the position would be consultant, not reporting directly to me. You'd work with the front office, the stadium operations manager, whoever needs operational support. You'd barely be in my office."
Barely. The word sits uncomfortably in my mind.
"I need to think about it," I say.
Royce nods, setting their cold coffee aside. "Okay. But Kenneth? Whatever you decide, you need to dosomething. Because if I catch you color-coding anything else in this apartment, I'm hiding the markers."
They kiss the top of my head as they pass, heading back to their office, and I'm left staring at my perfectly organized pantry, wondering when my life became this complicated.
The thing about having a partner who's incredibly observant is that they're incredibly observant. Over the next few days, Royce notices every moment of hesitation, every time I almost speak but hold back. They give me space, which is both appreciated and slightly maddening because it means I have to actually think through my own feelings without being pushed.
The real problem is that I can't stop thinking about the stadium.
I miss it. I'd been lying to myself about that for the past month, but it's true. I miss the familiar chaos of game days, the smell of the grass, the sound of the crowd. I miss knowing the operations schedule down to the minute. I miss the team. I miss the people I'd worked with for years, who had been like family.
What I don't miss is the pressure. The constant demand for more, better, faster. The way my inbox would explode by six in the morning. The weight of knowing that every decision I made affected hundreds of people's jobs and thousands of fans' experiences.
But consulting? Making my own schedule? That's different. That's the good parts without the crushing weight.
Still, working with Royce feels like crossing a line in some ways. Our relationship has survived a lot—years of antagonism in our childhood, the complicated transition of them taking my job, the messiness of actually falling in love with someone you used to hate. But there's something about the professional boundary that feels important. Sacred, almost.
When we got together initially, there was a deadline to us working together. This time around, there would be no limits. I’m not sure I can play well when I’m given free access to my partner all hours of the day and night.
On Friday night, I'm still turning it over in my head when we go out to dinner with Bellamy, Finn, Jake, Leon, and Maddox. We're at this Italian place we love, sitting in the private backroom, and the conversation turns to work, as it inevitably does with our friends and family, most of whom are in some form of athletics.
"Kenneth's been offered a consulting position with the team,” Royce says casually, swirling their wine.
I shoot them a look. "We didn't agree I was taking it."
"You haven't agreed you're not taking it either," Royce counters. "And I'm just mentioning it to have them weigh in.”
"Why not take it?” Jake asks as he stuffs another breadstick in his mouth.
Maddox reaches over to move the basket away from his boyfriend. “Last one, Jake. I’m not going to rub your stomach all night again, then get fart bombed all night.”
“I’d say I feel bad for you, but I had to deal with my fair share of it during our youth. Little bro had a sensitive tummy for a while there.” Royce smirks at their brother, an evil glint to their eyes.
“Don’t be mean, Royce. Or we can unlock some of your secrets.”
At Jake’s threat, a stare off begins. The two siblings ignore everything around them as they share some sort of secret conversation.
“They’re being weird again, Daddy. When will they stop? My eyes hurt just watching.” Finn grumbles, scooting close to Bellamy while coloring one of those mats restaurants usually reserve for small kids. They didn’t bat an eye when Bellamy Bellport requested one though. That’s the kind of power this family has.
Bellamy sighs. “They’ll go as long as needed. Both of them are stubborn as hell. More alike sometimes than not.”
