"Turkeys?"
"Fuck yeah. Old-school intimidation tactic. It's surprisingly effective," he said. "Coyotes, bobcats, mountain lions, raccoons. Or goats. Goats always work."
"Don't do that," I said, laughing. "She has kids."
"They won't eat the kids," he replied. "Not much."
"No wild animals." I offered him a weak smile as I lifted my hands and let them fall. "This is enough. It's more than enough. I said all the things I'd stored up for years, and by itself, that was an accomplishment. I didn't expect to hear back from her but now I know where she stands. She knows it was fucked-up, she knows my mother won't change, and she's only able to offer an apology. And I'm okay with it. I don't need a family to be happy."
"We'll make our own family," he whispered. "If you'll have me."
We stayed there while the bartender argued with someone about red wine and then grumbled about fetching five more cases from wherever they hid the good stuff around here. We stayed while someone barked orders about centerpieces and someone else asked where they wanted the cake set up.
The rustle of fabric to my right caught my attention and I turned my head to find myself staring at the gorgeous Miss Andy Asani in an enormous tulle ball gown. It wasn't white because why would it be? Instead, it was the deepest, darkest plum at her waist, the color dissolving down the skirt and up the bodice into pale, smoky violet. It was nothing I'd expected from her but completely perfect at the same time.
"Hi," she said, gesturing toward us with a bouquet of paper flowers. "I am delighted this is happening and I don't want to interrupt your moment but if I don't walk down this aisle in the next minute or two, Patrick will rip doors off hinges. As much as possible, I'd rather he not destroy our wedding venue." She glanced over her shoulder and then back at us. "And I know those doors and their casings are old. Restoring them would be a pain in my ass."
"Do you want us to go inside?" I asked, looking up at her from the floor. "Or go calm Patrick down?"
"Inside." She tapped a finger to her cherry red lips, humming. "I'll handle Patrick."
Wes extended a hand in her direction, saying, "I don't think I was invited but thank you for having me, ma'am."
Andy grinned at her bouquet, letting out a sharp laugh as she studied the paper petals. "You settle up with your guy, Tom. I'll settle up with mine."
We watched her go, a fog of smoky tulle and dark, curly hair floating around her as she slipped into the room next door.
"What did she mean by that?" Wes asked.
I pushed to my feet and brushed off the legs of my trousers but the damage was already done. "You were invitedandI put you down as my plus-one. You're my date."
"So,thatwas what Will meant. Okay. One less grave to dig." Nodding, he said, "I'm not used to being anywhere legitimately. I have a lot of adjusting to do tonight." He stood, looped his arm around my waist. I let him steer me toward the ceremony location. "Thanks for grounding me back there."
"Anytime." I pointed toward a pair of empty seats in the second to last row.
"And thanks for the push. I needed it."
He took my hand as we shuffled single file between the rows, passing his parents as we went. Not even a flinch from him. We sat down in separate seats but there was nothing separate about this. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, shifted my body into his, and pressed his lips to my forehead.
"I meant it," he whispered. "What I said earlier, I meant it."
Those sticky thoughts returned, liquefied, spilled into every corner of my existence. I had to force myself to smirk when everything inside me wanted to swoon. "Babe, you've said many things this evening. I'm going to need you to be much more specific."
He ran his tongue over the crease of his lips, his gaze fixed on mine. "I love you," he said, every word ringing with challenge.
"You don't have to say that. It might seem like the right thing because of"—I waved a hand at him and the ceremony space—"this. But there's no obligation to—"
"I'm messy as fuck and I don't know what I'm doing and I don't know who I am when I'm not a spy and not halfway in the closet but I love you," he interrupted. "I want to be the man who gets to love you, Tom. I want that job. I want the right to call you mine and I want to be yours, and I want to do this with you."
"I love—" I nearly choked on the word. Wes tugged me closer, resting my head on his shoulder. "I love you too."
"We don't have to stay in this city if you don't want to," he said. "I'll go wherever you decide."
I shifted, looking up at him. "What? Why wouldn't I want to stay here?"
Wes searched me with wide, confused eyes for a moment before running a hand over his brow. "I'm gonna kill my brother."
"We've talked about this. We can't run around murdering people or making offhand comments about murder. Not everyone understands the Halsted way of life."
