We ended up in a basic room with fold-out chairs for the family and some of our friends. My sister’s made so many connections in the East Coast after building and running the community center for about a year now. And Em has been mentoring students interested in STEM in the dungeon’s lab. Both her and Elle visit hospitals and schools to run STEM programs, funded extra for orphaned youth in and around Darkhaven.
They’re fucking unstoppable, and with Damon and Sterling backing them up financially, the sky’s the damn limit for what they can do.
But here Stan and I stand, holding hands in front of a plain hardwood altar with plain beige walls that I think were painted white at one point. He and I are nothing like Elle or Em. The way we used to make money was as gunmen for hire, so it’s not like we can do much.
All we’ve been doing with our free time is be Em’s only two subjectsfor the past half-year for her experiment, trying out the cleaner Kys pills she makes. Every phase she goes through, she gets closer to nailing it. Stan has less and less insomnia each time. My mood’s more and more stable. And the bonus is Stan and I get to exert our extra energy on her, all night and day if she wants us too.
So yeah, it’s been a great year, even though we’re in a boring building that’s all business for our wedding.
At least, there’s a seal on the wall that makes things feel official.
It’s March 3rd. Just a bit past a year since I woke up. Since I opened my eyes to fluorescent lights and the realization that I’d survived something I didn’t think I would. That I didn’t think I’d ever want to wake up from.
A year’s passed since I stepped onto that ship, met Em and reunited with Stan, like the world decided to hand me everything I thought I’d lost, or never thought I’d have, and dared me to mess it up.
I wasn’t willing to do that. I got my impossible second chance at life and wanted to make something out of it. And that’s been happening since I woke up.
Stan’s standing tall in front of me, holding my hands. I try not to make a face when his hands feel so damn clammy.
I look at him to distract myself, so I don’t think about how much sweat he might be dripping on the fuzzy floor rug if my hands aren’t catching it.
He’s obviously big, looking good in a suit that probably cost more than my first bike. Pretty sure he “borrowed” Damon’s credit card to buy it. I’m also pretty sure Damon knows and lets it slide.
Anyway, Stan’s trying to look like he’s got it together, straight jaw set, gray eyes curving with his smile.
He leans in and whispers, “Okay, listen, babe. If I cry, it’s ‘cause the lighting in here really hurts my eyes.”
I snort out a laugh. From the front row, Em’s shoulders shake asshe giggles quietly, one hand on her mouth, glasses slipping a little down her nose. Elle smiles openly, like she’s watching something she’s been rooting for all along. Kayla just rolls her eyes and mutters something that I’m pretty sure is, “Sure, Stan.”
Stan straightens up. “Also,” he adds under his breath, “just so we’re clear, we gotta get our girl at an altar too. This is just the government-approved version for me and you, like test-driving marriage while she waits her turn.”
I sigh silently so we don’t have anyone hearing him say more stuff like that.
“What?” he whispers back, grinning. “I love you. We love Em. I’ve got a huge heart and a huge—”
“Stan.”
His grin’s nasty. “I’ll behave if you sign all the paperwork.”
I shake my head, but my smile won’t go away.
That’s the thing. He’s right. This is us doing what we can while we wait for a way to get Em married to us too.
A recently passed law says Stan and I can stand here today, two men making it official in the eyes of the state. But it doesn’t erase Em. It doesn’t shrink what we are.
Em meets my eyes and blinks big. I’ve always thought she could see through anything, like my insecurities, Stan’s bullshit, and everyone’s little acts.
She’s a straight shooter with her actions and words. It’s one of the many things I love about her, but right now, I feel like she’s seen the mess me and Stan are. And we’re lucky she still chooses us at the end of the day.
The clerk clears her throat. The room quiets. Well, honestly, it’s just Stan who needed to shut up. He takes a deep breath and puffs his broad chest out, nearly popping a button out.
Stan’s laces our fingers together tighter.He aims his smile at me while the clerk talks.
I take a deep breath.
A year ago, I thought I was just a number. A body that barely made it. A past full of memories still coming back to me that’ll wake me up some nights in cold sweat and dread that only goes away when I’m holding the two I want to share my life with.
Today, I’m standing in city hall, holding the hand of the man I love, with the woman we love watching us from the front row.
