* * *
Heath
Looking down on my boyfriend, I have a newfound sense of pride. There’s no one particular thing I’m proud of, though. I’m proud of Roly for growing as a person, and I’m proud of me for finally just letting go of hurtful things. I’m especially proud of us for realizing that we’re better together.
“Whatcha thinking about, Sexy Papa Bear?”
I lean in for a firm soft kiss from a man who excels at firm soft kisses. “Us.”
“Hope you’re thinking good things?” he asks, looking a little shy.
“I very much am.” I cup his face and kiss him again, then whisper in his ear, “I love you and I’m proud to be with you.”
Roly’s eyes go all gimlet-y, and he buries his face and my shoulder. We hold each other for nearly the full length of a song, stuck together like that. Near the end, he pulls back and whispers into my ear, “I love you so much, I’ve always loved you, and you’ve always been the piece missing from me. And I’m sorry that it took something so extreme to figure my shit out, but if this is the end result, then it was worth everything that I went through.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Heath
The gallery in downtown Austin is beautiful, the perfect venue for Jake’s art. Jean-Pierre is so proud and happy that his happiness could power this entire state. The art crowd doesn’t usually Venn diagram with the basketball crowd, but Jean-Pierre is in a class of his own, and many people come up to him during the course of the show. He uses every opportunity to talk about Jake’s art, promoting his bespoke pieces, showing anyone willing to listen how much he admires the man he loves.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m so damn happy for my friend. I take a sip of champagne and surreptitiously wipe my eye.
“Awww, my Sexy Papa Bear is all verklempt and happy for his friend,” Roly says, bouncing up to me on a smile. I roll my eyes and lean in for a kiss, expecting something chaste and on the cheek, but he’s not having it. He loops his arm around my neck and pulls me in for a soft, slow kiss. We use church tongue because we’re classy gays, but as I pull back and look into my lover’s eyes and see his happiness, words of adoration easily trip and fall from my tongue.
“Get a room, you two,” Scout whispers in my ear, but there’s no heat behind it. This is technically our first outing as a couple amongst the friends, but they all act like they knew it was inevitable, and several five-dollar bets were won and lost in the process. Supportive and meddlesome is a line they ride pretty hard, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I refocus on my hot boyfriend and kiss his cheek, chuckling as I remember his antics earlier in the day. We were helping Jules set up the tables for the hors d’oeuvres and champagne, and at the last minute the curator realized that the lighting for Jake’s large piece, the one made of pictures of people to look like the sun in the universe, was better on a different wall. Without thinking twice about it, Roly, looking like an ant moving a huge leaf, went up to the picture, angled it off the wall, and walked it over to the curator’s wall of choice. It freaked the curator out a little bit, but she’d been right about the placement.
I bring my thoughts back to the present and look at Jake’s masterpiece. The details on the piece shine, though I can’t tell if it’s the lighting or Roly’s soft kisses along my jawline that make the difference.
What’s most amazing is that this room is full of people who all love each other, plus all of the supportive parents who raised these brilliant, kind, funny people. I have a moment of sadness knowing that I’d never have that, but then Jean-Pierre’s mom comes up to me and gives me the best mom hug. We chat for a bit, and then as she flits off to chat with another beloved “surrogate child,” a sweet-looking lady with brilliant salt-and-pepper hair down her back, couldn’t be more than five foot tall, shyly comes up to me.
I’d recognize her anywhere from her attendance at every high school football game, where she sat front and center to cheer on her cheerleading son, always so proud.
“Mrs. Martinez!” I say, wrapping her in a gentle hug.
“I’ve already asked you to call me Connie, Heath. Don’t make me old before my time—I’m a single woman on the prowl.”
I giggle pretty loudly at that, and she swats my arm. Roly’s head pops up when he hears me laugh, and he hurries over when he sees his mom. They embrace warmly, and Roly asks, “What did you do to get Heath to giggle? You know he doesn’t giggle at just anyone.”
She shrugs, mock innocently. “I don’t know. I’m just naturally funny, that’s all,” she says, a familiar sly smile on her face.
I roll my eyes and hug my man to me. “Yeah, right. All I’m going to say is that the apple does not fall far from the tree.”
She winks at me, her dark eyes twinkling. “Well, it’s a good tree.”
* * *
Roly
This was a magical night. Jake’s art… stunning. I’d seen a few samples and had been impressed with those, but I hadn’t realized how much work he’d been able to do in his new space in Jean-Pierre’s condo. He’d honestly been a great operations manager, but this is clearly what he was meant to do.
And then… to have all of our friends and families in one space? We are, every single one of us, so lucky and blessed. I know Heath got a little sad when he realized that his parents would never be a part of these kinds of moments, but then he was given a one-two punch of mom power from Mrs. Sehene, and my very own supermom. Everyone’s in a better mood when Consuela Martinez is around. And yeah, if people say that I have that in common with her… shit, I couldn’t be prouder to accept that compliment.
As the evening is winding down and we’re saying goodbye to our peeps, someone taps my shoulder. I turn around expecting, well, someone else, but find Rafi there, looking remorseful.
“Are you okay?”
