Epilogue
ELLIOT
Ten years later
I always said I’d never return to Boston. Besides my mother, there was nothing else there for me. It was a reminder of everything I could never become. A reminder that not everyone in this world has a heart as big as Gerard’s. But it was also the place that would become Gerard’s future and, therefore, ostensibly mine.
Gerard called me immediately after getting the news during our senior year at BSU. “Can you believe it, Elliot? The Bruins! I’ll be playing in Boston. Your hometown!”
“That’s amazing, Gerard. I’m so proud of you.”
“And that’s not even the best part,” he continued excitedly while people in the background clamored for his attention. “Oliver got signed, too! We’ll all be together again. Well, except for Drew and Kyle, but New York isn’t that far. We can still see them plenty.”
I listened as Gerard rambled on about Drew joining the Devils and Kyle getting picked up by the Rangers. As hard as I tried, it was impossible not to get swept up in his excitement. If Gerard was happy, then I was, too.
The posh condo Gerard and I live in is a far cry from the cramped, rundown apartment I grew up in. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathe the open-concept living room in natural light, illuminating the plush, cream-colored sectional sofa that Gerard picked out.
A sleek, modern fireplace is set into the exposed brick wall, creating a cozy ambiance. The hardwood floors gleam, leading to a state-of-the-art kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a marble-topped island perfect for casual breakfasts together.
Down the hall, our bedroom is an oasis. The king-sized bed is adorned with luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets and a fluffy duvet that feels like sleeping on a cloud. Built-in bookshelves line one wall, already filled with Gerard’s ever-growing collection of hockey biographies and my eclectic mix of romance novels. The en-suite bathroom boasts a spacious walk-in shower with multiple shower heads and a deep soaking tub, which I spend hours lounging in.
But the real showstopper is the balcony off the living room. It offers a breathtaking panoramic view of the Charles River and the Boston skyline.
Gerard has been not-so-subtly hinting for years about christening it with a little al fresco fun. Ever since that memorable New Year’s Eve back in college when I fucked him while the party was going on downstairs, he’s developed quite the exhibitionist kink.
Maybe one day. Maybe.
It’s not just Gerard and I who have entered another tax bracket, though. My mother has traded her waitressing uniform for designer labels. Her new job as Gerard’s personal assistant affords her a taste of the good life.
I barely recognize her now, with her perfectly coiffed hair and manicured nails. But I’m happy for her, truly .
Of course, I’ll never tell her the truth about how she became not only Gerard’s personal assistant but also the proud owner of a beautiful home in one of Boston’s most affluent suburbs. That’s a secret I’ll take to my grave.
It all started in our junior year at BSU when Gerard misplaced his hockey stick. He was frantic, saying anything would be mine for the taking if I helped him find it.
Naturally, I filed that away for future reference, knowing that a favor from Gerard Gunnarson was a valuable currency.
Fast-forward to Gerard signing with the Bruins and us moving to Boston when I saw an opportunity to cash in on that long-ago promise.
“Remember when you said you’d do anything for me if I helped you find your hockey stick?” I asked casually one evening as we cuddled on the sofa.
Gerard’s brow furrowed for a moment before realization dawned. “Of course, I remember. What do you need, babe?”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “I want you to buy my mom a house and hire her as your personal assistant.”
Gerard blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that request. “Wow, Elliot, that’s…”
“I know it’s not a simple request, but you did say anything, and this is what I want. My mom deserves a better life, and you can give that to her.”
Gerard was quiet for a long moment, considering my words, before he pulled me closer and nuzzled his nose in my hair. “Okay, Elliot. If that’s what you want, consider it done.”
And just like that, my mother’s life was transformed. Gerard found her a stunning Colonial-style home with a wraparound porch and a manicured lawn in a neighborhood I never could have dreamed of growing up in.
He furnished it with all the finest things, from plush carpets to gleaming stainless steel appliances. And just to really drive home the fairy tale, he bought her a shiny new car to park in the driveway .
As for the personal assistant gig, Gerard created a position solely for her. She manages his schedule, handles his correspondence, and keeps his life running smoothly.
But more than that, she’s become a mainstay in our little family. She comes over every Sunday and cheers on the Denver Broncos with Gerard.
And I couldn’t have asked for anything more.
My head is on Gerard’s broad, bare chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His fingers card through my hair, lulling me into a state of absolute contentment.
“Did you hear about the renovations they’re planning for TD Garden?”
“Mmm, no. Tell me,” I murmur, tracing idle patterns around his pebbled right nipple.
“They’re going to completely overhaul the locker rooms. State-of-the-art everything. And they’re adding a new VIP section with private boxes and a lounge.”
“Fancy.” I tilt my head to press a kiss to his pec. “You’ll be living the high life now.”
Gerard chuckles, and the sound vibrates through me. “I guess so. But you know what I’m most excited about?”
“What’s that?” I prop myself up on my elbow to gaze down at him.
His blue eyes sparkle with mischief. “The fact that tomorrow is our first anniversary as husbands.”
A slow smile spreads across my face. “Is that so? I hadn’t realized.”
“Liar.” Gerard grins, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ve been counting down the days.”
“Guilty as charged.” I lean in and brush my lips against his. “What do you have planned for us? ”
“It’s a surprise.” He captures my mouth in a searing kiss.
I moan loudly as heat unfurls in my belly. My hand slides down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, to palm the growing bulge in his boxers.
Gerard groans, his hips canting into my touch. “Elliot…”
“Shh, let me take care of you.” I hook my fingers in the waistband and tug his underwear down, freeing his hardening cock.
I wrap my hand around him and stroke slowly from base to tip. Gerard’s head falls back against the pillow, and his eyes flutter closed.
“I love seeing that ring on your finger,” I murmur, my gaze zeroing in on the black metal band on his left ring finger.
“I’ll always be yours, Elliot,” Gerard rasps.
That sleek black band encircling Gerard’s finger never fails to make my heart skip a beat. It’s a tangible symbol of our love, our commitment, our forever.
Gerard’s breath hitches as I take his ring finger into my mouth and swirl my tongue around the digit. I hollow my cheeks and suck, mimicking the way I worship his cock. Gerard’s toes visibly curl against the sheets, and a low moan escapes him.
“Elliot,” he pants, pupils blown wide with desire.
I release his finger with a pop. “Yes, dear?”
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans.
“But what a way to go.” I trail my hand back down to his straining erection and leisurely stroke him, relishing the velvety soft skin that stretches taut over rigid flesh.
Beads of pre-cum gather at the tip, and I swipe my thumb through the slickness, spreading it down his length.
Gerard’s hips buck up into my fist, and his hands fist the sheets as he surrenders to the pleasure I’m giving him.
I’m so lost in my single-minded focus on reducing Gerard to a quivering mess that I don’t register the sound of our bedroom door flying open.
But Gerard sure as hell does. In a feat of athleticism that would impress even his teammates, he yanks his boxers up and flips over onto his stomach in record time.
I blink at the sudden absence of his gorgeous cock in my hand before my brain catches up to what just happened.
There, standing in the doorway with an impish grin on his cherubic face, is our son.
“Gunnar Gunnarson!” I attempt to scold, but it comes off as more of a chuckle. “What have we told you about knocking?”
“To always do it!” Gunnar chirps, clearly unperturbed by his father’s state of undress and compromising position.
“And did you knock?” Gerard asks, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow his face is currently smooshed into.
Gunnar’s grin widens. “Nope!”
I sigh, leaning over the bed and grabbing Gerard’s shirt off of the floor. “Gunnar, we’ve talked about this. Daddy and I need our private time.”
“But it’s morning!” Gunnar protests as if that explains everything. “And Daddy promised we’d make chocolate chip pancakes.”
Gerard lifts his head, his cheeks flushed a charming shade of pink. “I did promise that, didn’t I?”
“Yeah!” Gunnar bounces on his toes, his blond curls flopping into his eyes. “So, come on, Daddy!”
As he drags Gerard out of bed, I think back to how our family of three came to be.
I never wanted nor could deal with an infant. The very thought made me break out in a cold sweat. Those tiny, fragile creatures with their never-ending needs and ear-splitting cries? No, thank you. I was content being the cool uncle to Oliver’s twin boys, spoiling them rotten before sending them home hopped up on sugar.
But then, two years ago, we met Gunnar.
Gerard had insisted that we should at least consider expanding our family, and so I begrudgingly went to an adoption event with him. I knew that resistance was futile when he set his mind to something.
We walked into a room filled with bright balloons, streamers, and the excited chatter of children. Kids of all ages, from chubby-cheeked toddlers to gangly preteens, darted about with wide eyes full of hope and longing for a family to call their own.
That’s when I saw him. A little boy, no older than three, with a mop of blond curls and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. He was sitting quietly in the corner, clutching a worn teddy bear and watching the commotion with a solemn expression.
Gerard noticed him, too.
As if sensing our gaze, the boy glanced up, and our eyes locked. Something inside me shifted. A piece of my heart that I didn’t know existed suddenly made itself known, clicking into place.
Gerard tugged me forward, and we knelt in front of the boy.
“Hi there,” Gerard said softly. “I’m Gerard, and this is my fiancée, Elliot. What’s your name?”
The boy hugged his bear tighter, and his little chin wobbled as he whispered, “Gunnar.”
Gerard’s face split into a grin. “Gunnar? That’s an awesome name! I wish my name were that cool.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across Gunnar’s face. “Really?”
“Totally!” Gerard enthused. “I bet you’re super brave and strong, just like your name.”
Gunnar ducked his head shyly, but I could see the pleased flush on his cheeks.
I cleared my throat, finally finding my voice. “Gunnar, would you like to come home with us? We promise to love you and take care of you always.”
Those luminous blue eyes met mine, searching, hoping.
“Forever?” His voice sounded so small and uncertain that it cracked my heart wide open.
“Forever and ever,” I vowed.
“Okay,” he whispered .
And just like that, our family was complete.
Of course, Gerard was over the moon that our son’s name was Gunnar.
“Gunnar Gunnarson,” he kept saying, rolling the name around on his tongue like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. “It’s perfect!”
I, on the other hand, was not as thrilled. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the name Gunnar. But the alliteration was a bit much for me. I could already picture the endless teasing and nicknames he’d endure on the playground.
“Maybe we should change it,” I suggested tentatively one night as we lay in bed with Gunnar snuggled between us. “Something a little less…tongue-twisty?”
Gerard’s head snapped up, his brows knitting together. “Change it? Absolutely not! Gunnar Gunnarson is his name, and that’s final.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the fierce determination in Gerard’s eyes made me pause. This clearly meant a lot to him. And truthfully, seeing the joy radiating from him every time he said our son’s name was enough to melt my reservations.
So, Gunnar Gunnarson he remained. And as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, I couldn’t imagine him being called anything else. It suited him perfectly, just like Gerard said.
Watching Gunnar grow and thrive under our love and care has been the greatest privilege of my life. Every milestone, every giggle, every “I love you, Daddy” is permanently etched into my heart.
And the bond he shares with Gerard? It’s something truly special to behold. They’re thick as thieves, always conspiring and adventuring together. Gunnar follows Gerard around like a shadow, soaking up every word and imitating his every move.
It’s uncanny, really, how much Gunnar resembles Gerard. From the unruly blond curls that refuse to be tamed to the mischievous glint in those cerulean eyes, he’s a mini Gerard through and through.
He even has the same infectious grin that makes you want to smile right back.
Sometimes, I catch myself staring at the two of them, marveling at the miracle of it all.
How did I get so lucky to have not one but two gorgeous blond-haired, blue-eyed boys to call my own? It’s like the universe knew exactly what my heart needed and delivered it to me in spades.
Sure, Gunnar may not share our DNA, but he’s ours in every way that matters.
And watching him grow into a spitting image of the man I love most in this world?
Well, that’s just the icing on the cake.