In one capacity or another, I’d been around alternative dynamics all my adult life, and I knew the stress it could bring to have to constantly explain yourself to people who didn’t get it. I was lucky in that my folks had accepted my sexuality fairly quickly. Pop and Nonno had been on the fence for a while, which I’d counted on. Irish-Italians smack-dab in the middle of Brooklyn, with Catholicism’s chokehold as an added spice. An instant acceptance hadn’t been on the radar. But they’d come around, thanks to Ma and Nonna. And by the time Nicky came out, they were seasoned pros.

My family had struggled more to accept my relationship with Charles, who’d been thirty years older than me.

This was no different. Fetishes were just an extension of our sexuality. We didn’t choose our kinks and preferences.

When King returned, I could tell he had another apology on the tip of his tongue, and he was probably ready to scrap this day and try again later tonight. So I spoke before he could.

“I have friends in the lifestyle. You don’t have to hide that when it’s just me.” I was still a realistic man, and Camden running around like a carefree kid tonight would likely not go over well with some of the other guests.

I was fairly certain I detected at least an ounce or two of relief in King’s eyes, and some of the tension eased off his shoulders.

“I appreciate your sayin’ that, Anthony, but I knew today was a bad idea.” He opened a cupboard and hauled out two bowls in different sizes. “PR people—Christ. Can’t reason with them. Clara would probably turn our life into a reality show if nobody hit the brakes.”

I couldn’t imagine. My own life was as different from theirs as it could be.

Hoping I wasn’t overstepping my boundaries, I joined King at the long counter along the wall and turned on the water in the sink to wash my hands.

“Well, instead of kicking me out, how about you put me to work? I’m completely useless at cooking, but I clean up like a champ.”

He gave me a sideways look. And a faint smile. “First of all, my mama would tan my hide if I gave my guests chores to do. Second, you should be running for the hills.”

“A saying that actually works in this area,” I noted.

He chuckled and pulled out several spices from another cupboard.

Sensing he wasn’t wholly convinced yet, I went a step further. “Teach me, Chef. I didn’t come all the way to Nashville to stand by and watch.”