He meditates most mornings, cross-legged on his sofa if we’re at his place, and on the seat by my bedroom window wherethe light streams in if we’re at mine. He looks so peaceful and happy during these moments. Sometimes he tells me where the meditation takes him, and sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he keeps it to himself because it’s just for him.
He likes to make me breakfast when I have an earlier start than him. He got into really good dietary habits while at the facility, and he’s kept them up, which benefits us both. He makes the best Spanish omelette in the world, always adding a pinch of black and red pepper with a grin when he hands me my plate.
He has this thing where, if I’m washing up, he’ll come up behind me and kiss the back of my neck, running his hands across my hips and slowly up to my breasts. More than once we’ve had sudsy kitchen sex, on the floor or on the table or on the counter top.
We fuck for the pure pleasure of it, now. When he speeds up his thrusts, grabs me tighter, bites my neck, I know it’s because he’s having a bloody good time, not because he’s chasing oblivion. There’s tenderness in the way he touches me, attentiveness every second, more so than ever before.
And afterwards, he sleeps like a baby.
He was right: he can’t listen toThe Power of Lovewithout it upsetting him. It came on the radio one morning when I gave him a lift to the gym. He switched it off immediately, and I pulled over so I could hug him. He was pale, and sad, and he trembled a little, but he was able to ride it out like a champion, and went ahead with working out afterwards without any problems. Such a massive, undreamt-of change from before.
We went to see the disabled trained therapy dog my friend had mentioned all those weeks ago. Dean was sceptical, wondering if the dog’s skills would be wasted on him now that he was doing so much better. But when we met him, this wonderful golden ragamuffin, bounding around joyfully on three legs anddesperate to be useful and loved, it was love at first sight. We named him Click, as he’s able to respond to Dean clicking his fingers and seems to understand that he can’t speak, and as of next week he’ll be ours. Thankfully, Dean’s landlord has no issue with dogs, as he seems to be cool with anything as long as the flat's not destroyed in the process, and I’m fine with a dog visiting in mine as well. More love has entered our lives, and I can’t wait to go on long walks with them both.
This morning, he and I woke up at his place. It’s reading week at the university, so I don’t have to be there until later, which means I can walk with him to work. And Mitchell can’t say a thing about it. There’s a note on my HR file that I have requested not to work with him in any capacity, and Lynne is in full agreement. He and I have to attend the same meetings sometimes, but there’s no direct contact anymore, and he shuffles away quite comically if he sees me coming. I imagine he’s counting the days until my fellowship ends. I can’t wait for him to find out I’ve been taken on full time. And Lynne even said to me that she wants to groom me to take his place when he retires, which she is aiming to make happen sooner rather than later. Several complaints about him came out of the woodwork once I came forward. It’s safe to say his days at the university are numbered.
The thought is almost as satisfying as the way I was woken up today, with Dean’s lips travelling down my body until I was awake enough to pull him up towards me for a good morning kiss…
Emily
The sky is still slightly orangefrom the sunrise. It’s beautiful. I will always love the views this town offers - like right now, on the walk to work. We’re almost at the top of the hill, and the vista looking down at Foxton high street, sloping down with the sea in the distance, never fails to make me smile.
“Beignets,” Eli suggests next to me, squeezing my hand gently. We’re talking about what we can ask the chefs at our new wedding venue to make. Turns out, after cancelling our original plans, we got a much nicer place for the reception, and got it at a discount after another booking they had fell through. The registry office managed to accommodate us, too, so it all worked out for the best. And frankly, we’d get married in a pub toilet if it meant Dean was there with us.
Reuniting with him myself was a moment I’ll never forget. I held him so tight, unable to believe my eyes that my darling friend was looking so well. Watching him reunite with Eli was something else entirely. Even now, the memory brings a lump to my throat.
“Definitely,” I agree. “How about some kind of pumpkin pie? Aunt Wendy mentioned she had a family recipe. Maybe we can include that?”
“Ooh,” he winces, “giving an old family recipe to outsiders?” He shakes his head in mock disbelieft. I laugh.
“Well, maybe there’s something less sacred we could - ”
Eli has stopped stock still, looking in the distance with huge eyes. I follow the direction of his gaze, and smile.
Dean is saying goodbye to Liaden at the door to Wishbone. They’re wrapped in each other’s arms, laughing at some shared joke, nose to nose. Liaden’s hands are linked behind him, which I read somewhere is a sign of total trust and security. I’m so pleased they have this, that they found their way back to each other. He strokes her face affectionately, and the smile she gives him has my own tugging at the corners of my mouth. They kissonce more, and then she steps away. They don’t let go of each other’s hands until their arms are stretched right out. He signs something to her, I can’t make out what from this angle, and she laughs over her shoulder, loud and free.
“Awwww,” I murmur, beaming at the scene. I turn to Eli, only to find that he’s not there.
I look around, and quickly spot him in an alley, leaning up against the wall.
“Are you OK?” I step closer, and I’m stunned to see him wiping tears from his eyes with a sheepish smile.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
“Eli…” I reach for him, wrapping one arm around his waist and cupping his chin with my other hand.
“I just…” He swallows hard and clears his throat. “I never thought I’d see him happy.” He wipes his eyes and holds the bridge of his nose, and I understand. I see years of tension, worry, fierce protectiveness for the person who might just as well be his brother slowly start to drain away, properly this time. He’s been watchful ever since Dean returned to us; what he’s just seen seems to have convinced him he can stand down now.
I’ve only ever seen Eli properly cry twice, and both times Dean was the root cause. The first was when he told me about what happened with Dean’s teacher on Prom Night, tears of misery and helpless regret for Dean being unable to forgive himself. And now, he’s been brought to tears because he finallyhasforgiven himself, and has put his life back together against what were previously insurmountable odds. I’ve been a first hand witness to the strain Eli has been under, inextricably tied with his devotion to his family. And while neither of us have ever seen Dean as a burden, there’s an undeniable new lightness in our future. The possibility of being able to watch him be happy, have a real future, experience freedom from the weightof his trauma and live his life the way he actually wants to, is an unimaginable gift.
I hug my darling man tightly, letting him feel his feelings, and smile to myself.
Now, it all begins.
EPILOGUE
Dean
The wedding was incredible.
