Mal, card in hand, fitted his key into the lock on his door and let himself in. He guided the door closed with his hip, then made his way to the kitchen, where he laid the bouquet upon the counter and focused his attention on the card. The back flap of the envelope wasn’t sealed, so he worked it open with his thumb and slid the card out from inside. The design on the front was simple—a white background had been stylized to resemble brocade with white and silver glitter, its patterned, almost floral swirls elegant and tasteful. Mal traced his thumb over the glitter, enjoying the grit against his skin. Even something as delicate looking as the card in his hand had a hidden side—a strength visually overlooked, but detectable through touch. In that moment, the message the card conveyed from its decoration alone was enough. The text inscribed inside only made it better.
Mal,
Congratulations. I know how hard you’ve fought for this, and you have no idea how pleased I am that you’ve persevered and made it to the next step. You deserve this. I’m blessed to have been able to be taking this journey with you, even if only in a supportive role.
Let me treat you tonight. Don’t make dinner. I’ll be over as soon as I can after work, unless you’d prefer otherwise.
All my love,
x Vincent :)
The smiley face. As simple as it was, it stole the breath from Mal’s lungs and clenched in his heart. He set the card down, glanced again at the roses, then shook his head. All of this—the day he’d just had—was a dream. Definitely a dream. Any time now, he’d wake up alone, stripped of the memory, the happiness gaining force inside of him, and the confidence he’d begun to embody. Scenarios so perfect only lived in the minds of the lonely, those whose solace was in the “what ifs” and the “if onlys.” Not real life. Nothisreal life.
But Vincent was no dream.
Mal smiled again, and like contagion, it spread through him and left no part of his body unaffected. His chest lightened, his bones lifted, his muscles relaxed. Then, in the silence of his apartment, he laughed. It was a small, overjoyed sound—the kind that could easily turn to tears, if subjected to the right circumstances. Mal let his head roll forward, his chin against his chest, and felt each movement of his diaphragm. He braced his palms on the counter, letting it take some of his weight.
It had never felt like this before, and while part of him worried that it would never feel like this again, Mal refused to entertain the notion for long. Nothing lasted forever. The good and the bad came and went. Memories would fade. Time would march on without him.
It was up to him to remember this moment—to hold it tight to his chest and never let it go.
To never let Vincent go.
Roses. The scent of freshly cut grass. And now, instead of pain and violation, the man who made his every day better than the last.
Vincent redefined his world. In each preserved petal Mal made, he’d carry the memory of that with him no matter where life took him.
39
Vincent
“You know,” Alex said casually from the doorway of his home, brushing his fingers through his hair so it shimmered from black to purple and back again, “you’re going to owe us big time for all this impromptu babysitting. Matthew might need therapy—Nikki’s decided that he makes a fine love interest.”
Vincent grinned sheepishly. “Any time you need someone to look after the girls, you know who to call.”
“Thanks.” Alex looked him over. Whenever he spoke to Vincent, one of his eyebrows seemed perpetually raised, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. “You’re different today, you know. Different from how I’ve seen you before.”
“How so?”
“You’re more purple, more blue.” Alex leaned against the doorway. He brushed a hand down his arm and picked at a piece of lint on his sleeve. April had started to give way to warmer weather, but today was particularly cold, and Alex was bundled up in a sweater a few sizes too large—likely one that belonged to Gwynn. When the lint fell from Alex’s fingers, it caught the light and momentarily sparkled blue. “By that, I mean… you’re glowing. If you were an omega, I’d think you were pregnant, but that’s not the case, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” A smile crept onto Vincent’s lips. “Not really.”
Alex eased off the doorway. A knowing look flashed in his eyes. “Hmm. Well… I hope you enjoy your night. Tell him congratulations from Laurence and me.”
“What?”
“Mal,” Alex said as if it was obvious. “You two are pregnant, aren’t you?”
Vincent hesitated. It seemed enough of an answer for Alex, who smirked.
“Well, whenever you’ve decided to go public with it, you can wish him congratulations from us. It’s nice to know you have each other—that he’s found you.”
From inside the house, Nikki cackled, and Matthew made a sound that bordered on horrified. Alex looked over his shoulder, sighed, then met Vincent’s eyes. “So it’s begun. I should go. I have a feeling that there’s a little demoness in the living room who’s decided that Matthew is going to be roped into her adventure. Have a nice time tonight, okay?”
“Thanks again,” Vincent said. “I really do owe you. Let me know when I can return the favor.”
“Believe me, I will.” Alex stepped back into the house, but before he closed the door, he looked back at Vincent once more. He said nothing, but there was a gleam in his eye that spoke of unsaid mirth. With a little wave, he closed the door and was gone.
