Page 88 of Sliding into Love
We all clink glasses, and I catch Kenneth's eye across the rim of my wine. He mouths "Your Majesty" at me, and I have to bite back a smile.
The dinner progresses with multiple courses, wine flowing freely, and the noise level steadily increasing as people relax and enjoy themselves. I catch snippets of conversation from down the table—Gillies is now debating the merits of different pizza toppings with Walters, arguing that pineapple is not only acceptable but superior.
"I'm going to have to disagree with you there," Walters is saying. "Pineapple on pizza is a crime against nature."
"It's sweet and savory perfection!"
"It's an abomination!"
At one point, Naymon's baby starts fussing, and at least five different people immediately jump up to help. The baby gets passed around like a very precious football, each person taking a turn making ridiculous faces until the little one is giggling.
"The team really is a family," Kenny observes quietly.
"Our team since it’s very much still yours too," I correct. "And yeah. That's what I was hoping for."
Bishop leans across the table, lowering his voice so only our immediate group can hear. "So are you two together, or are we all just pretending not to notice the way you keep looking at each other?"
I nearly choke on my wine. Kenny goes very still beside me.
Bellamy sighs. "Bishop, we talked about this. Subtlety."
"What? I'm being subtle!" Bishop looks genuinely confused.
"You're really not," Atlas says, patting his boyfriend's arm fondly.
"I thought I was being very subtle. I didn't ask right away. I waited through appetizers and the main course."
"That's not what subtle means," Finn says, shaking his head.
"We're together," Kenneth says, his hand finding mine under the table and making no effort to hide the gesture this time. "We're just trying to be somewhat professional about it. For the team."
"Professional went out the window about an hour ago when Royce kept staring at you like you hung the moon, and you made that cute comment that we all pretended not to overthink," Finn observes.
I start to protest, then catch the knowing looks around the table. "Okay, maybe I did."
"You definitely did. It was very sweet. Also very obvious," my brother confirms.
"It's cute," Atlas assures me. "Also, congratulations. You both seem happy."
Kenny squeezes my hand. "We are. Very happy."
Bell’s expression softens. "You deserve that, Royce. You've spent so long taking care of everyone else. It's about time someone took care of you."
"Kenneth does," I say quietly. "He takes very good care of me."
"Okay, now you're both being adorable, and I don't know if I can handle it," Bishop says. "Can we go back to arguing about pizza toppings?"
"Please, no," Atlas groans. "If you start another food debate, I'm leaving."
"You love my food debates."
"I tolerate them because I love you."
The conversation shifts after that, moving to safer topics: Finn's latest finger-painting project, Atlas's newest stuffie purchase, Bishop's playoff predictions that involve increasingly elaborate scenarios.
Kenneth keeps holding my hand under the table, his thumb tracing patterns on my palm that are definitely not helping me focus on anything else. It’s distracting in a way the simple gesture shouldn’t be.
By the time dessert arrives, people are starting to drift into smaller conversation groups. Some of the players have moved to the bar area, while others are clustered around the baby, taking turns holding him and contemplating the benefits of fatherhood while being a pro-athlete.
