43. Hailey
A scream is trying it’s damnedest to escape me. The mix of excitement and disbelief and love and jubilation that this is actually happening makes me feel like a hot air balloon about to float away.
Judging by the veins popping in Hota’s hands, he won’t let me get far.
I fill my lungs with his scent, and my lower lip quivers. “I love you,” I whisper as the group cheers.
Hota’s smile is bright enough to knock me off my feet. “Ai shiteru, Hailey, but those words are so shallow for what I feel for you.”
I nod to keep from sobbing before we’ve even started because I know exactly what he means. Together, we look down the aisle at Arlo.
“He’s ours.” The awe in Hota’s voice is reverent, as though he’s looking upon a deity.
Arlo is larger than life. He’s transcended the torture of his past to be with us. He is awe-inspiring. And fucking gorgeous. His face lights with adoration that bleeds through his skin and the distance between us.
“Can you believe it?” I sniffle.
“Not hardly.”
Laurent takes his place under the arch by our lover. The second he does, Hota steps forward and takes my hands.
“Want me to hurry, I suppose?” Laurent chuckles.
“No.” Hota’s shakes his head. “Take your time. I just need to touch my wife.”
My heart swells, along with my cunt. Inappropriate or not, he’s so damn sexy and possessive and mine.
“Soon-to-be wife,” Laurent reminds.
“Fine, hurry.” Hota squeezes my hands.
I giggle and slide my finger over the place where his ring should be. After all, he and Arlo were married at the courthouse before we left New York.
It was my idea.
Since we can’t all marry legally, it made sense for Hota to marry one of us to get his permanent residence card. It made the most sense for him to marry Arlo—not only because they’ve loved each other for so very long but also they can now never be made to testify against the other. Just in case.
They weren’t in total agreement, until my last point, and they still hate the fact that we can’t all be bound by law. I do too, but I’m not worried about being left out. Arlo has managed to entwine us all legally in as many ways as possible and likely a few that aren’t.
Laurent clears his throat. “While the world loves to put parameters and rules to love, we know love knows no bounds. Not the number of partners or their identities. Not time or space. Not age or health. Not life or death. A soul’s love is unbound, but is tethered by those it loves.” He places a hand over his heart. “If you are ready to make that commitment to one another, please come forward.”
Hota’s lips graze my knuckles on my right hand, and then he releases it, while tightening his hold to my left. “Are you ready?”
“More than,” I barely squeak through the emotions clogging my throat.
We hold tight to each other and turn toward our future.
I see nothing but Arlo as we walk. I feel nothing but Hota’s hand in mine.
The closer we get, the impossibly tighter our hold on each other becomes until finally we’re standing in a semi-circle with Arlo on my right.
His hand immediately finds mine and squeezes. “That dress. You look stunning.”
“You should see me out of it,” I whisper. Because if I don’t make a joke, I’m going to lose my shit like Nat, ruining her makeup in the front row.
“We plan to,” Hota’s deep voice rumbles.
Laurent chuckles. “Do you, Hotaru Kido, Hailey Fitzpatrick, and Arlo Judge, come here of your own free will?”
“We do,” we say in unison.
“Do you promise to cherish, protect, and love one another all the days of your lives?”
“We do,” we say again.
Laurent beams. “Then place your right hands together in the center.”
Hota places his first, palm up. I put mine on top of his and Arlo’s encapsulates both of ours from the top.
Something settles in the very center of my soul. The itch I’ve always felt—the discomfort in my own ski, the worry, the anxiety—it vanishes.
Laurent wraps a cord braided with three strands of fabric around our hands. “May you strengthen these bonds each day until your last.”
“We will,” we say.
Laurent looks at Hota and nods. Hota nods back, and then faces me and Arlo more fully.
“Hailey.” He centers his gaze on me.
My heart stops beating, and I’m pretty sure my jaw hits the cobblestones under our feet. “You said no vows.”
I’m pretty sure people behind us laugh, but I don’t really care. I’m about to kill my new husband. “I didn’t prepare vows.”
“Hailey.” He smiles and begins again. “You tell us every day exactly how you feel about us. From the very beginning, you’ve been clear and unabashed with your love. Today, on the day you become our wife, we want to be as explicit as we can be about our love for you.”
That earns a few chuckles.
His free hand brushes my cheek. “You are the light in our darkness. You are the mortar that holds us together.”
Arlo cups Hota’s cheek for a moment before joining Hota’s fingers on mine. “Hailey.”
“Seriously?” I sniffle, unable to keep my tears in check.
“Seriously.” His grin is magnificent on his perfect face. “You are everything we never knew we needed. Now that we do, we’re never letting you go.”
I shake our bound hands. “Same to ya,” I sob and laugh.
Everyone laughs.
“Here.” Laurent unwinds the fabric around our hands, while the guys reluctantly release my face. “Rings are an outward symbol of your commitment today and always.”
Arlo pulls two velvet pouches from his pocket. My instinct to squeal returns full force. I’ve never been into rings or jewelry more than a pair of earrings or a bracelet with an outfit, but I want their rings on my finger.
Mr. Bossy Britches wouldn’t let us in on the rings or designs. Not even for his.
He pours a heap of rings into his large hand and I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of how many there are, and then I see them. Really see them.
“Oh my god, Arlo.” I cover my gaping mouth.
Three thicker black tungsten bands and three thinner gold bands rest in his palm. All six are engraved on the inside. The word on each of the darker ones shows gold, while the gold bands show the dark tungsten.
Abiding
Adoring
Enlightening
One word representing each of us.
Hota
Arlo
Me
“They’re perfect,” Hota says the words I can’t seem to get out. “Where are yours?”
“Back pocket.” Arlo grins.
Hota dives for them before the words fully leave his full lips.
A buoyant laugh warms my throat.
“Hold out your hand,” Hota orders as he scoots close to me with the velvet pouch in his clutches.
“Yes, Sir,” I obey.
They both groan as the rings tumble into my palm. They’re light when they should weigh a million pounds to represent our love, but that wouldn’t be right. Our love doesn’t hold us down. It lifts us so high that anything is possible.
Hota shoves the pouch in his pocket and I hand him Arlo’s ring with the word adoring on it, while I hold the other two. He nods as he takes the ring.
“Arlo.” I grab his hand and hold it in mine. “Do you take these rings as a symbol of our love…”
“…and devotion?” Hota finishes.
“Yes.” He wipes at his eyes with the hand that clutches our rings. “You were supposed to go first.” He laughs.
“We’re marrying you first,” Hota slides his ring onto Arlo’s finger after mine, “and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“Okay.” He grins and blinks back tears as he stares at his ring finger and then the two of us. “I love you both so fucking much.”
Hota wraps his fingers around my nape and his thumb caresses my jaw. “We love you too,” we say as though it’s part of the ceremony.
Arlo hands Hota two of the gold bands, and then he grabs my left hand. “Hailey, do you take these rings as a symbol of our love…”
“…and devotion?” Hota completes.
“Yes!” My scream finally makes its way out, and there’s nothing to be done except laugh at my outburst with everyone else.
Arlo slides his ring on my finger, and then Hota steps closer and places the last two on my finger.
“My husbands.” I gasp.
Hota squeezes his hold on my nape, while Arlo tightens his grip on my hand. My gaze bounces between them until it lands on Hota. “Your turn.”
He releases me and straightens, looking ready as he’s ever been.
Arlo passes over my ring and I take Hota’s hand. My fingers play over the expanse of his ring finger. “Do you take these rings as a symbol of our love…”
“…and devotion?” Arlo finishes.
His dark gaze jumps between me and Arlo. “Yes. Yes.”
I slide my ring on his finger, and then Arlo follows.
Our hands clasp. All three rings on all three people.
“We’re married,” Hota whispers.
“I now pronounce you husband, husband, and wife!” Laurent cheers.
We stare at each other as though we can’t quite believe it. Behind us, people scream and clap, but our eyes never leave our tightened circle.
Like I did not too many months ago, I snake my hands up their arms and clamp onto their napes. Gently, I pull them closer and closer and then pucker. Our three mouths meet in the center. My lips on both of theirs and theirs on each other’s. I hold them in the center and graze my lips over Arlo’s mouth, and then Hota’s. Where they meet, I let my tongue slip out and catch the edge between them, before I kiss them both once more.
When I lean back, they do the same, and then we all scream and jump and hug and cry and laugh and dance until our feet hurt and our cheeks are sore.