Fast forward to now, Sunday night, and we had a great afternoon at my parents’ house having dinner with them. It wasn’t the whole family with aunts and uncles and Grampa, but we did get to hang with my parents and my brother. I had a side-conversation with my mother to tell her Ray and I were officially done, that he’s officially out of my apartment. I didn’t bother to say he was in jail because that would’ve led to questions I didn’t need to answer.
Dad and Killian got along great. My brother wasn’t around much, other than during the actual meal and they seemed to get along well, too. I heard them talking about chess. Cody challenged Killian to a chess match next time they get together, and it dawned that their conversation in that afternoon amounted to more words uttered between them than Cody and Ray in three years. Ray had no time for Cody and Cody made no attempts to hide that he thought Ray was a dickhead.
Killian was sweet, attentive, and affectionate with me around my parents and they were both friendly with him. And me? I’m having a hard time believing how much my life has changed in a few short weeks.
***
“I like your family,” he says as I open one of the boxes that have been put into his third bedroom. This is the only one not taped up for some reason. It’s one of eight large boxes and two large wardrobe boxes that were dropped off containing my things.
I also know Alana packed for me and I felt a little embarrassed about it because I have no idea what condition my apartment was in and no clue what she thinks of the fact that I appear to have moved in with her boss (even though I really haven’t, not officially).
“I think they like you, too. And you should definitely be prepared for a Thanksgiving dinner invite. If you’d rather not, that’s okay, too.”
He smiles. “Never been much for holiday meals, not since I was a little kid. Do you think they’d be cool with Will coming, too?”
“The more the merrier with my family. I’m glad you don’t seem to mind.”
He shakes his head. “Got a lot to be thankful for. I’ve always been a guy who likes to show gratitude. I’m fortunate.”
“You also work hard. That’s why you’re fortunate,” I point out, lifting out a brown envelope and feeling relief that I found this. Boudoir photos I had done for Ray for our first Valentine’s Day together. I’m glad to know where they are. There’s no nudity but they are definitely risqué enough that I don’t want them just floating around. I wonder where they were? I didn’t see them when I packed his stuff up.
Heat climbs up my face as I tuck the envelope into the back of another photo album and turn to Killian. His eyes are on the envelope.
“What’s that?”
“Just some pictures,” I shrug.
“Lemme see.”
“You don’t wanna see those,” I say.
He grabs my hand. “I’ve already seen them.”
I jerk back. “You have?”
He nods. “When I went into the apartment and got the chopsticks. They were on the coffee table, so I guess he was lookin’ at them. I recognize the envelope. If it’s the same envelope.”
“Pictures of me in lingerie?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says without inflection. “And nudes.”
“They’re here?” I look into the envelope again. What a relief. The stack of Polaroids are in the bottom. I dig in and see all five pictures are there. “Oh thank God for that.”
He growls. And it makes the hairs prickle on the back of my neck.
“I don’t exactly want these floating around. Oh my God, I hope Alana didn’t see them.”
“I have a confession,” he says.
I look at his face.
“I saw them when I picked up the chopsticks. I put them aside then. Popped them into this box yesterday.”
I’m dumbfounded by this news. But also grateful. I’m glad Ray no longer has these. Killian gently takes the envelope out of my hand and flips through the boudoir photos. I look over them with him.
My hair was a bit shorter, my face was three years younger, and I probably weighed ten or fifteen pounds more than I do now so my cheeks and hips show it, but I was full of confidence.
“Beautiful,” he says. “Even if they were for him.”
“Back when I thought he was who he claimed to be,” I say.
“I’m gonna burn these,” I say, nabbing the Polaroids. “Right now. Got a lighter?”
“In the kitchen.”
He follows me and watches me burn them in his kitchen sink. Watching my face (and other body parts) melt isn’t a whole lot of fun, but I’m relieved these are now gone. After I turn the water on to douse the flames and rinse the ash out of the sink, I turn to him.