“I was. I just didn’t look like it through your eyes.” He tightens his arms around me. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Not because I need you to take care of me. Because every day you’re in my life makes it better. I was surviving before you. Even before the shooting. Now I’m living and it’s because of you.”
I press my face into his neck and let myself fall apart. There’s nobody here but us and I don’t have to hold anything together.
“I want you to know something too,” I say. “I’ve adored you since the first day. From the moment I walked into that hospital room. If you’d turned out to be straight, I would’ve been the best gay best friend you ever had. I would’ve planned your wedding and given a toast that made everyone cry. Then I would’ve gone home and been sad about it in private. But I would’ve stayed. That’s how crazy I was about you from day one.”
He laughs. “I’m glad I’m not straight.”
“Me too. That would’ve been a real problem for us.” I look down at my ring. “The night of the shooting, I was wearing my rings. All of them. When I got back to the condothat night they were covered in your blood. I couldn’t wash them. I didn’t feel right washing your blood off my rings. I sealed them in a container and I still have them.”
His arms tighten around me and he buries his face into my hair.
“I haven’t worn rings since that night. And now you just put one on my finger.” I hold up my hand. The silver band catches the light. “This is the only ring I need. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Benji. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know it every single day.”
We sit there until the crying stops and the breathing evens out.
“The signs,” I say against his mouth. “They’re beautiful. It’s your handwriting.”
“Stormy hung them for me. He was out here at four. He tied every panel, hung every frame, then went inside so we could have this time alone.”
“How did he know how to do this? The fabric on the railing? That’s ceremony draping.”
“Stormy watched YouTube videos.”
“That draping would cost a client a fortune and Stormy did it by watching YouTube?”
“Apparently Stormy can do just about anything.”
A sound comes from inside and the glass door opens. Tex steps onto the deck in jeans and a T-shirt, carrying twomugs of coffee. When he sees the ring on my finger his eyes go bright and then a smile, slow and wide.
“Well, it’s about damn time,” he says, putting the mugs on the railing. “I’ve been holding onto this secret for three days. Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret when you talk as much as I do? I almost told two customers.” He clears his throat. “Congratulations, boys. Now drink your coffee before it gets cold.”
Stormy appears behind him. Standing just inside the glass door, half in and half out, the way Stormy stands when he wants to be present but isn’t sure he’s invited. His hair is messy from the wind. His hands are at his sides. He’s looking at the deck he decorated in the dark.
“Stormy,” I say. “Get out here.”
He steps onto the deck. I untangle from Mickey’s lap and walk to him. I pull him into a hug. His arms come up around me this time and he holds on tight.
“It’s beautiful,” I say into his shoulder. “Every sign. Every panel. It’s the most beautiful staging I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a thousand.”
“I wasn’t sure about the fabric,” he says. “I didn’t know if white was right for sunrise.”
“White at sunrise is better than white at sunset. The pink light hits it and it glows. You couldn’t have picked better. It’s perfect.”
He pulls back and wipes his face. Then he turns to Mickey in the chair and bends down and wraps his arms around Mickey’s shoulders. Mickey’s arms come up aroundStormy’s back and they hold each other. When Stormy straightens up his eyes are wet.
I hold out my hand to show him the ring. “We’re engaged,” I say.
He gives me his small smile. “Congratulations.”
Tex puts his arm around Stormy’s shoulder and pulls him close. Mickey reaches for my hand. Our fingers lace together on the armrest of his chair. The silver band presses between our palms.
“I’m going to plan an absolutely spectacular wedding,” I say.
“I know you are,” Mickey says. “You deserve to have your own wedding.”
“It’s going to be right here,” I say. “On this deck. At sunrise. With this view. Or maybe at sunset down there on the beach. What do you think?”
