The thought terrified Quentin, but he realized he knew the answer. “Yes, I do. I still don’t know if I’m ready, but I know I want that someday, and sooner than I once thought.”
“That’s good. You don’t need to come out tomorrow, or even in a month. Coming out is a personal thing, and no one else should dictate how you should do it. You can and should do it on your own time and in your own way. I have faith that you’ll do it the right way when you need to.” He hesitated. “And, Quentin, if you really like this guy, don’t be afraid to tell him. You can be honest about how you feel. It’s worth being honest in this life. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to be loved.”
Quentin blinked away tears. “Thank you, Drew. Really, thank you.”
Boston crushed the Chicago Architects the next day. After the game, Drew smiled at Quentin and gave him a thumbs-up. Quentin returned the smile. He’d seen Gabriel, Quentin’s partner, in the stands, cheering for Drew. They seemed so happy together, so perfect. Quentin knew what he wanted.
After the game, some of the team went out to celebrate. Henri dragged Quentin along with them. Cort had joined them in Chicago for the game. They went to a restaurant, and then a bar, and then Henri said that he wanted to walk around the city for a bit. He loved Chicago, and he wanted to see more of it.
Quentin, Henri, and Cort left their other teammates after the bar and went walking by the Chicago River, standing on one of the bridges and looking out at the lights of the buildings. It was a beautiful city. It was a night in April, and spring was coming to the Midwest. It was an unusually warm night, and Quentin was sweating in his shirt.
“It’s so pretty here,” Henri said, looking out at the river. He turned to Quentin. “Would you mind getting a picture of Cort and me? I love the lighting there.”
Cort balked. “My hair isn’t cooperating right now.”
Henri rolled his eyes and handed his phone to Quentin. “You look very handsome, honey,” he said.
Quentin took the offered phone and positioned himself to take a photo of his friends. “Okay,” he said. “Try to look more natural, Cort.”
“I’m awful at posing for photos,” Cort lamented. It was true. He smiled like an awkward schoolboy getting his yearbook photo taken.
“Not at all,” Quentin lied. He snapped a few photos and showed them to Henri and Cort.
“Eh, try another,” Henri said, giving the phone back.
Quentin repositioned himself. Henri and Cort stood by the railing of the bridge, the lights of the city illuminating them. Cort went to put his arm around Henri.
Quentin almost dropped the phone as Henri slipped from under Cort’s arm and dropped fluidly to one knee.
“Oh, my god,” Quentin whispered. He frantically started a video and tried to keep his hands as steady as he could.
Henri pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket.
“What are—ohfuck,” Cort said, covering his mouth and staring down at Henri.
Henri grinned up at Cort.
“Cort Styleton,” he said gently.
Cort burst into tears.
“Jesus,” Henri said, “could you wait to cry until I finish proposing?”
Cort choked on a sob and wiped the tears on his face. “Keep going!” he managed to say.
Henri huffed. “Cort Styleton, my love. You came into my life like a furious light, and you have irrevocably changed me for the better. I love you dearly. You are my best friend, my lover, my partner. Will you do me the honor of also being my husband?”
It was short, simple, and beautiful.
“Yes,” Cort cried, dragging Henri to his feet and kissing him deeply.
Quentin captured it all on video—including his own choked sobs in the background. He was overwhelmed with love for his friends.
Henri slipped a ring onto Cort’s hand. They were both laughing and crying, and then they both held their arms out to Quentin. He hugged them tightly, adding his tears to theirs.
“I love you both so much,” he said through his tears. “I’m so happy for you, and so proud of you.”
He walked a few steps behind the happy couple as they returned to their hotel.
