Free Put a Ring on It by K.A. Mitchell Page B

kitchen door and found him in the yard. Shoulders hunched up around his ears, Kieran stood next to the shed that took up half the space. Frozen grass crunched under Theo’s feet as he approached. He stopped a few inches away, giving Kieran a moment to realize Theo was there.
    At last Theo reached out and wrapped himself around Kieran, like he should have done earlier instead of standing there listening like an idiot.
    Kieran remained rigid for a breath or two and then relaxed against Theo.
    “ Shabbat shalom ,” Kieran muttered, that wry tone clear even in a whisper.
    “Peace indeed,” Theo agreed, holding him tighter. “They are all off the invite list.”
    Kieran made a breath that could have been a laugh and turned into Theo’s embrace. “This is just the opening round.”
    “I begin to see the wisdom of privacy bordering on hostility.” Theo rested his cheek on Kieran’s head. “I don’t care about anything but you. They can be there if they behave, or we can do it ourselves.” He considered dropping to one knee again, but Kieran was probably tired of that. “I just want the right to know I’m yours and you’re mine. And that’s all that matters.”
    Kieran squeezed back and then showed he was his mother’s son. “What about Two for the Show ?”

Chapter 13
     
     
    SO MUCH for their alone-in-this-together moment. Theo stepped back, then kicked at a frozen clump of ground. “Christ. Martin should come with volume control.”
    “You said you wouldn’t spring stuff on me. If we’re going to”—there was only a brief hesitation, just enough that Theo knew Kieran was still trying to wrap his head around it—“get married, you shouldn’t keep shit from me just because you think I won’t like it.”
    “Point taken.”
    “Besides, I know how much that show means to you. Getting it produced. Even I know it’s good.” There was the first hint of a real Kieran smile that Theo had seen since this morning.
    “Despite music being nothing but a weird hybrid math language that can be plotted on a computer.”
    “Especially because of that. I might not feel it like you or Ash, but I can understand the elements that make it appealing.”
    “Appealing.” Theo tucked his freezing fingers into his back pockets. “That’s exactly the quote every producer hopes to lift from a review. Go see this. It’s appealing .”
    Kieran’s expression grew more focused, like when he was trying to explain something about Python or perl or one of the other languages he used to talk to computers. “That’s just how I describe it. What I know is that when I hear you play it, it stays with me. In the not-annoying-earworm way.”
    Theo started to seize again on the damning faint praise of not annoying , but the intensity in Kieran’s eyes stopped him.
    Kieran didn’t say stuff he didn’t mean, wasn’t any good at schmoozing or soothing feelings, and almost never had anything to say about Theo’s work, other than to say thanks but no thanks when asked to come along to a premiere or party. So Kieran’s next words warmed Theo up more than the synthetic knit sweater he was wearing.
    “It’s a good show. You should see it produced. I want to see it produced.”
    A flash of the future sparked in Theo’s head. The marquee: Book and Music by Theo Medina . Kieran in a tux beside him on the red carpet on opening night. With him at the Tonys. Smiling as Theo raised the statue and thanked his husband for his love and support. Then he remembered the rest of what Martin had said, and the vision vanished in a pop with a puff of special-effect smoke.
    “Then you must also have heard what Martin wanted me to do to get Pfarrer Investments on board.”
    Kieran nodded. “Sorry. Hard not to.”
    “I said no, and I meant it. I’m not letting anyone use you—us—like that.”
    “Kind of late for that. It’s already out there, and people are using it. So why shouldn’t it be you? At least then there will be some good coming