Put a Ring on It (15 page)

When he had his breath back, he raised his eyebrows in a comic book leer. “And you thought I had no gag reflex.” He blew out air with a whistled sound. “Okay. I think I’ll hold off on eating until we’re through the questions. What made you ask that, what Ryan said today?”

Although Kieran was used to Theo’s stalling tactics, it didn’t make them easier to put up with. Pointing out that Kieran was onto him wouldn’t get an answer, only derail them. Brett had been the one to bring it up first, but hearing about egg donor catalogs hadn’t eased Kieran’s mind at all. He shrugged as Theo studied him carefully.

Kieran realized what Theo was trying to do. “No. Don’t answer with what you think I want to hear. Do you want kids?”

“Honestly—”

Kieran had to bite his lip at that to keep from yelling
Yes honestly. Be honest.

“—no. I never planned on it.” Theo backtracked a little. “But if it’s something you always wanted, we could talk about it. Now or down the road.”

“No.” Kieran was sure of his own answer.

Theo’s smile was back. “No to kids or no to talking about it?”

“No to kids.”

“See, perfect agreement.” Until Theo reached out and took Kieran’s hand, he didn’t realize how cold his own fingers were. “I don’t see that things will be any different for us after. You like how things are now, right?”

“So why get married, then?” Kieran knew Theo hadn’t been lying about the publicity—he knew it. It made no logical sense for him to be trying to promote
Two For the Show
with a song from
Susan
, long before he’d even heard from the backers. But there was a cold, irrational pulse inside him. The one that wanted to know what the hell Theo saw in Kieran anyway. The one that told him he was grossly miscast for this part.

Theo rubbed his thumb over the ring on Kieran’s finger. “Because to me, it means something to be able call you my husband instead of my boyfriend. I want that. I know there are no guarantees—actually, that’s another reason. If something happened, like one of those idiot safety inspectors finally gives me an aneurysm, then at least you’d be okay.”

“How would I—oh.” Kieran looked around the room. At the $200 champagne and the brushed nickel fixtures in the sink. “I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted it.”

“But I’d want you to have it. And suppose I fall off a catwalk and can’t work. Then you can support me.”

The joke wasn’t going to work. “I want to sign a prenup.”

Theo pulled his hand back. “Isn’t that like saying you expect us to break up?”

“No. It’s—I know it’s not romantic like oysters and champagne, but it’s something
I
need.”

“Okay. We’ll talk about that.”

It was Kieran’s turn to arch a brow.

“We’ll do that,” Theo grumbled. “Anything else?”

A million things and nothing. Kieran couldn’t very well ask about the ex-boyfriend who’d tied Theo up and blackmailed him. How would Kieran explain knowing about that?
Do you wish we were more kinky?
Or about any of Theo’s exes.
What’s the schedule for when I don’t fit that perfect picture anymore?

“We’re still going to take our time, right? No rush?”

“How does August sound?”

Six months. That should be enough time to figure it out. To be sure.

“Okay.”

All the tension in Theo’s body lifted away. Kieran could see it, like a piece of scenery flying up into the top of the theater.

Theo sliced off some of the bread and handed it to Kieran. “So. The beach. I never knew you liked the beach.”

Theo’s bare ass was sweating enough to stick him solidly to the paper stretched out over the gray pleather exam table. Not that he was hot, dressed only in a paper-and-plastic exam gown that reminded him of deli packaging. No, the sweat was straight-up nerves. He still hadn’t decided how he was going to mention his malfunctioning penis, even if he’d brought it in for repairs.

At least he was seeing Antonio. Theo trusted the nurse practitioner more than any of the doctors. Antonio had been the one who noticed the spot on the back of Theo’s neck before it turned into something scary.

Antonio came in wearing dark blue scrubs. “Good to see you again, Theo.” He put his tablet and stylus on the counter and washed his hands. “What brings you in today?”

If there was an obvious physical issue, Antonio would find it, and Theo wouldn’t have to explain that his dick had stopped working. He offered the same vague excuse he’d given the nurse. “I’m really not feeling well. Something isn’t right.”

Antonio’s silvered eyebrows went up, and he came right over, hands reaching for the sides of Theo’s neck. He prodded and pushed, then took out a flashlight and looked into Theo’s eyes and ears and down his throat, which got a “Hmmm.”

After asking Theo to track his finger with his eyes and doing some other things Theo thought were closer to a sobriety test than a medical exam, Antonio went and tapped on the tablet.

“So?” Theo asked. “Anything you can see?”

“You’re not running a fever, and everything looks normal. It would be helpful if I had more to go on than ‘something’s not right.’ I can’t even set up blood tests with that.” Antonio leaned back against the counter. “What’s up? What’s really up? Because it takes three notices and the threat of dropping you from the practice just to get you in for a physical.”

It was Antonio. Theo was comfortable with him. His problem couldn’t be that uncommon with those Viagra ads everywhere. But those guys were old. And straight. If Theo’s dick wasn’t working….

His mouth opened, and then he realized he still didn’t know how to say it.

“C’mon, Theo. I’m not going to rat you out to your boyfriend… I mean fiancé.” Antonio winked.

“Guess you caught the video?”

“It was adorable. Don’t waste my time. If you think you’ve been exposed to something, tell me and we’ll run the test. But you’re going to have to tell him eventually. There’s a bad strain of syphilis—”

“No. Not that.”

Antonio drummed with his stylus and finger on the tablet. “Well?”

“I—twice, right in the middle of things—” Theo held up a finger and let it wilt, then made a gesture at his crotch.

“It’s not staying up?” Antonio reached for the hem of the exam gown.

Theo shut his eyes. “No. Something happens. It just goes away. But both those times, after a while, it’s come back and worked fine.”

“Do you get the initial erection without difficulty?”

“Yeah.” Theo kept his eyes closed.

Antonio shifted around. “Any difficulty orgasming?” A drawer opened.

Theo couldn’t look. Like a kid with a shot, if he didn’t look, it wasn’t happening. “Not when it comes back. And the orgasm has been very strong.”

“Any reduction in production?”

In his come? Was he supposed to keep track by volume? He shot more in the morning and less at night. The night after Kieran moved in he’d gone three times, and then the next time it was barely a spit. “Um. Not noticeably.”

“Tell me if you feel this.”

Theo jumped at the sharp prick on his dick and looked down. “Yes. Jesus. Is that a spur?”

“I don’t think there’s any nerve damage. Have you experienced any trauma?”

“To my dick? No. Not before you went cowboy and dug a spur into it.”

“I can send you to a urologist, and I’ll run a blood screen to rule a few things out, like your testosterone levels, but what you’re describing sounds psychological.”

“Great.” Theo sighed. “So no little blue pill?”

“I don’t recommend it. Most of the time in this situation, I’d ask the patient about a major change or source of stress in his life, but I don’t even have to with you. I think proposing in front of a million people should cover that.”

“But I’m the one who proposed. I’m happy about it. I love him.”

“Happy or not, it’s still a big change. At least you’re keeping him satisfied. I can tell.” Antonio smirked and pointed the spike-wheeled tool at Theo’s mouth.

Startled, he raised his hand toward his lips.

Kieran had been moving a little gingerly after dinner, so Theo had made sure to take care of his morning wood with an apologetic blow job. How the hell could Antonio tell? Theo had flossed. Couldn’t be a stray pube.

Antonio smiled. “There’s a hickey at the back of your throat. From the suction. Tell your fiancé to take it easy on you.”

And then on the other hand, having a chatty, friendly, gay nurse practitioner might be less of an advantage than Theo thought.

“So how do I fix psychological?” Theo asked.

“Again, I can refer you to someone, but based on what you’re describing, I think you just have to give yourself a break.”

“From sex? Did I mention Kieran is twenty-five?”

“Not necessarily from sex, but from worrying about performing. If there’s a position or stimulation that’s causing it, don’t do that.”

“It was different each time.”

“Hey.” Antonio’s voice went from firm to consoling. “It really isn’t a cause for alarm right now. But if you keep focusing on it and worrying about it, it’s more likely to keep happening.”

“So your advice is ‘don’t think about my dick during sex.’”

“My advice is to relax. Be close to him, but don’t worry about what you’re going to do. Just let it happen.”

It sounded more like Dane’s brand of New Age meditation bullshit. Life was an act of will. He hadn’t “let himself” become a producer. Or “let himself” become Kieran’s fiancé.

“And you should fill Kieran in on what’s going on.”

Theo shook his head. He should have gone to a Chinese herbalist instead. Tried acupuncture. Hell, having his palm read might have been more help.

“Hiding it from him will only increase the stress and the problem. What would you think if the situation was reversed?”

Theo looked away and shuddered. “I’d think he wasn’t into me anymore.”

“I meant him not telling you the truth about what’s going on.”

“Do you tell Eddie everything?”

“Everything that matters.”

“How do you know what does?”

“Welcome to long-term relationships.”

Theo couldn’t remember the exact number, but he thought Antonio had said something like twenty-two or -three years together. In his exam room were pictures of the two of them together: smiling from what looked like the lip of a volcano, another in front of a European-looking landmark. They weren’t just picture-smiling. They looked happy. Neither of them were wearing rings, and Antonio only ever referred to Eddie as his partner. Marriage had been an option for them in New York for years. So why not do it?

Theo substituted him and Kieran in the pictures, thought of taking him someplace besides Atlantic City to a comics convention. Yes, there they’d be, twenty years from now. Antonio was older than Eddie, so it could work. Theo would make it work.

“That was Barcelona last year,” Antonio said as Theo stared at the picture.

“You—” Theo stopped himself. He wasn’t sure if it was over the line.

“What?”

“You guys didn’t get married?”

“We don’t plan to. Not making any kind of statement. It’s just not for us.”

There had to be a reason, though. Maybe they had an open relationship like Dane and Spencer, but asking about that was a complete leap into the orchestra pit over the line.

Antonio smirked. “You could always go full out traditional. Tell him that from now on you want to wait until the wedding night.”

“Until August?” Theo realized he’d almost shouted and dialed it back. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, that is a little extreme. And I don’t think abstinence is going to help you with your problem.”

“Good, because I think I’d rather have you rolling the spur on me again.”

“Not that you’re planning to take my advice anyway.”

Tell Kieran? Theo couldn’t even begin to picture that conversation. He supposed he could try “letting it happen,” but he didn’t know how that worked either.

Antonio sighed. “I’ll leave a referral for a urologist at the front desk.”

WHEN THEO
was growing up, after the
News at Noon
, there had been soap operas. His mother had muttered back at the characters as if they were in the room with her as she moved around, cooking and cleaning. It was the first time he’d noticed how real stories could be to other people. Watching Dr. Harrison take off his shirt as often as possible from 1:00-2:00 p.m. had also been how Theo realized what gender made his dick hard—when the damned thing worked right.

Now soap operas were a casualty of the streaming video/reality TV age, and no amount of hunky hospital doctors could revive their gasping corpse. In their place were talk shows, local and national. When Martin had called to tell Theo that
The Casey McMann Show
wanted him, Theo had wanted to refuse out of simple spite. Casey McMann’s narcissist hour had been what permanently retired a still distinguished, though usually clothed Dr. Harrison.

“Wait,” Martin had said, “I know the guy’s an ass, but they only want you, not Kieran. Plus, you know who Casey’s fucking.”

“The Fraz,” Theo had agreed with a sigh. Big time retired movie star who was so deep in the closet he made Jax look like the grand marshal of a Pride parade.

Two hours after that uncomfortable round of questions with Antonio, Theo stood backstage and readied himself for another unpleasant interview. He watched on the backstage monitor as Casey Wannabe-Oprah-With-a-Side-of-Tim-Gunn McMann played some social media game with his audience.
Remember why you’re doing this. For Cal and Rudy, so they and all the other characters in
Two For the Show
can be brought to life for other people.

For an annoying twat who had fucked his way into the business, Casey did have a way with an audience. His blue eyes and prematurely silver hair didn’t hurt him on that score either. Theo thought the demographic for talk show audiences was solidly middle-aged women in from New Jersey—in other words, a lot of his ticket buyers—so he was surprised to hear squeals as he took the cue and stepped onstage.