- 43 -
December 31, 2045
Dean (3 hours until Midnight)
Do you think Hallee realizes now why Marlowe forced her to wear white tonight? My woman put up an excellent fight, insisting that white on New Year’s is socially unacceptable. I’ve never known her to back down from a belief, but against all odds, she was convinced.
Hallee’s been asking Avery for weeks why she suddenly had to work late. Avery somehow successfully swerved her questions, hiding that she’d been meticulously practicing sunflower arrangements to create the perfect bouquet. Hal’s heart would explode at the dedication our friends have shown to celebrate us.
As Hallee walks home to me, the moonlight dances across the sequins of her dress and shimmers on her tear-soaked cheeks. The veil between heaven and earth is torn, and for a moment we get to feel eternal. Heaven has descended to earth, I swear it.
Stopping before me, she unlinks her arm from Hudson’s.
“Thanks for taking care of her, sir. You raised a good one,” I joke, firmly shaking his hand.
“Take care of her.” He smiles, drawing a few chuckles from Avery and Marlowe. Even Hallee spares a giggle. As she steps forward, the smell of her perfume brings along an unexpected clash of emotion.
This is the happiest day of my life.
This is the saddest day of my life.
Today we gain and we lose, and I’m not ready. Don’t think I’d ever be.
The paradox of emotions is almost too much to bear as Matt opens our wedding ceremony. “Good evening. We gather here together to celebrate the extraordinary display of love that continuously pours out of these two wonderful individuals.”
Wow, he’s being formal. The air of respect, of honor, for how far we’ve come is nothing that I expected but everything I needed.
“Dean and Hallee, you have redefined what it means to love your neighbor. Individually, you have brightened the lives of your friends, but together you have been an unwavering force of hope for us all. You are our reason to believe that good things can continue to flourish in devastating circumstances.”
As she meets my gaze, I search for the pages of emotion I’m used to reading. All I see is joy. Pure joy—for what we were, are, and will be.
“Dean, you wanted to say a few things?”
“Yes, I did. I mean, I do.”
“Not time for the I dos yet, Dean,” Matt mumbles out of the side of his mouth.
Hallee’s face falls a bit as she admits, “Dean, I didn’t prepare anything. I didn’t know.”
“I know, Hal. I don’t want anything other than your unfiltered, unapologetic self. You’re the one who is good with words, remember? It was me who needed to practice for this.”
And I have—practiced. In the quiet moments after she falls asleep, in the shower, at the station, waiting for coffee, I’ve trained my mind to love her better in this way.
“Do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Just listen and accept everything I say to you. Can you do that for me?”
Swallowing down her tears, she takes a wavering breath.
“Of course,” she sighs.
The words I can offer are not a vow of promises to keep, but a eulogy to honor the love we have held so close.
“My stubborn, complex, essential Hallee. You are so incredibly easy to love, and my only regret is not telling you sooner. All of my best qualities have been strengthened by you, and my worst have shrunk substantially because of your light.” Pride swells in my chest that she doesn’t shake her head no. I knew she’d feel different after a year with me.
“In our free fall down to see how deep our love could span, you have captivated me. The way you’ve protected your ability to see the world with compassion. The bravery you exude in daring to dream beyond the constructs of this life. The kindness you show in acknowledging every single stranger you pass. The way your nose crinkles when you giggle. The way you’ve never given up on your quest to get me to read. The blush that floods your cheeks when you burn dinner. The hamster wheel of thoughts running wild in your beautiful mind—they are all part of the infinite reasons why I love you and am forever changed because of it. My heart is tattooed with the language of our love, and somehow, somewhere, someday, I will remember you. To put it simply, I love you more than you love an organized schedule, twinkly lights, painted sunsets, a takeout vanilla latte, and listening to Taylor Swift. And that . . .” I pause, reaching up to cradle the side of her face, “that is an immeasurable amount of love.”
My words taking her breath away is the most tangible example of how much better I am because of being loved by her. Her tears rain onto my hand as she cradles it on the side of her face. If we stayed like this through midnight, would we still forget?
“My gentle, loving, kind, Dean.”
Another wave of pride rushes through my chest because it’s true—I’m all hers. It’s the best thing I’ll ever be.
“What a gift it has been to know a timeless love. Your selfless, patient, steady, and consistent pursuit of me has been the most exceptional display of love in its purest form. You have challenged each of my insecurities and re-framed them in a positive manner. Where shame once ruled, love has won. I’m kinder to myself, and to others, because of the confidence I’ve built, just by being loved by you. I will never forget—” Her voice breaks and grip tightens as she closes her eyes for a moment before meeting mine again. “I will never forget the way you smirk seconds before teasing me, the way your head tips back when you are laughing extra hard, the butterflies in my stomach when I look into your eyes and the desire in them as you hold me, the words you have said to me, or the way my world is a million times lighter with you in it. You are the buoy that holds me above the crashing tide, reminding me of goodness, of hope, and of joy. Rewriting the law of the land, you’ve built me a reality where my wildest dreams have come to life. It has been the great joy of my life to love you and to be loved by you.”
Inhaling quickly, her breath is shaky as she continues, “Because of you, I finally know peace. I will love every part of you, forever. You are, and always will be, my favorite reason.”
The devastation behind her never forget echoes off the walls of my chest. Makes me want to cry a bit. Makes me want to die a bit. If we die, can this be our reality? Is there an afterlife where we can exist together?
The beautiful fragility behind her trusting stare strengthens me. I’ve never loved her more than I do right now, and I’ll only love her more with each second until midnight. I’ll love her after midnight, too. Won’t remember her, though.
Leaning down and resting my forehead onto hers, I cup the sides of her face and lace my fingers into her hair as if it will tie her to me.
“Can you promise me one thing?” I whisper.
Her silent stare answers for her. No, I can’t.
No one can promise anything anymore, yet I find the courage to ask.
“Will you paint me a sunset someday?”
Hallee
Our falling tears water the sunflowers as our hearts are pulled apart by the contradiction of holding on tightly and letting go. I chose my words carefully, acknowledging the best things that I will remember about him, and refusing to speak about us as something being washed into the past.
Hudson’s holding Marlowe and Avery together through the sadness creeping in. There’s not a dry eye in the room as they watch the assumed conclusion of our love story. However, this can’t be the end for me. This will just be a carriage ride back to the beginning of our next life together. There’s no estimated time stamp on the loneliness that awaits, but I will be warmed by the fire of hope that has set up camp in my bones.
My fingers cling to the ghost of Dean’s hand as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out two identical gold bands.
“Have you been planning this since the park?”
“Consider your theory confirmed, Hal. There’s always an ulterior motive when a man buys jewelry.”
“I knew it.” I giggle through a sob.
“I’m sorry it’s nothing extravagant, but I thought that it’d be best if they didn’t draw any unnecessary attention. We can wear them into next year so when it comes down to it, I’ll always carry your love with me, and you mine.”
“It’s perfect, Dean.”
He’s as gentle with the rings as he’s been with me, delicately twisting them in his fingers while standing and staring. After nearly a year of us, he is still just Mr. Stand and Stare. With his help, I have picked up my pieces and created a mosaic worthy of his attention. I am finally the work of art he once suggested I was, custom-made to hang in the home of his heart.
Glancing at him with all of the warmth I have left, I lift my left hand. Matt begins his final speech as Dean’s trembling hands slide the ring onto my finger, and I do the same for him.
“With these rings as a symbol of your undying love, you are committing to carry a piece of each other with you, always. Dean, is this a commitment you are able to uphold? If so, now is the time for the damn I do .”
“I do,” he says, laughing like he can’t believe this is happening.
“Hallee, is this a commitment you are able to uphold? If so, please say I do.”
“I do,” I whisper, barely able to speak.
“With the approval and final authority of The Sexy Six, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Dean, you may kiss your bride.”
His eyes roam over my body before he pulls me in for a kiss. Beginning softly and building with passion, he dips me down in the safety of his arms as our favorite fans cheer. None of this would have been as exceptional without them.
“It is my greatest honor to announce as a couple, Mr. and Mrs. Dean . . . uh . . .” Matt tries to stifle his laugh because none of us know our last names.
“Mr. and Mrs. Dean!”
Hysterical laughter overpowers the pain. Even in sadness, there is joy.
“Time to party!” Marlowe cheers, sprinting behind the coffee counter. Dipping down, she lifts a beautifully decorated cake.
“It took awhile, but I finally perfected the Peter method. Turns out I can be good at listening,” she quips.
“Ah, the Peter method. How could I forget?”
Dean’s eyes squint suspiciously as we cut into the cake. “Come here, Hal.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why? You afraid of a little cake?”
“You wouldn’t dare.” My eyes flare as he pretends to shove it in my face.
“Right as always, Sunshine.”
Marlowe pops champagne as we feed each other the first bite.
“Shit,” she mumbles as it bubbles over her hand and onto the floor. “Lea’s only request was to not make any major messes.”
“What will they think about the sunflower field sitting in their table space?” Avery asks.
“Yeah, they’re beautiful, but wouldn’t leave a very good tip,” Hudson jokes.
“I can’t take all of them with me, can I?” I ask. Maybe someone will think the display was for them and feel special on the first day of the year.
“I’ve got it handled. The Marmotte will be restored to working order by opening day,” Dean answers. Even now, he calms my obsessive need for control.
“One final order of business,” Avery says, winking and joining Marlowe behind the counter. “The official, Top Secret, Marriage License of Dean and Hallee.”
“Are we actually doing this?” I ask as Dean and I look from each other to the paper.
“We’re doing this,” he says with a single nod.
Happiness and sadness go head-to-head in the boxing ring as he grabs the pen. Happiness is starting to win, throwing an uppercut as he proudly signs his name—including a last.
“Did you make that up?” I ask, and the fire of hope flares. Please say no , I blink.
“I did.”
Sadness takes a knockout punch.
“I love it.” The words choke out as I kiss his cheek.
Picking up the pen, I sign my name—first and last.
“That settles it. You two are officially Most Likely to Elope ,” Matt jokes.
This year’s title is my favorite so far. Wait, does he—?
“Hudson is Life of the Party ,” Avery murmurs.
“Avery is Best Dressed , for sure,” I say, holding Matt’s intrigued gaze. “Her closet really is impeccable.”
“Flawless taste, truly,” Marlowe says as every single one of us nods. “Matt is Most Musical .”
“Marlowe is Best Laugh ,” Matt responds.
It’s true. I’m glad I won’t have to miss it tomorrow. Matt’s eyes fall because he’ll have to.
“Okay, okay, you all got individual ones,” Dean says. “We do too. Hallee is Most Likely to Change the World .”
My shoulders tense. Does he know?
Will he ever know?
“Dean—” I swallow. Am I about to do what I’m about to do? “Dean is Most Likely to Be Remembered .”
Life ceases to exist. Even the ground shudders at the strength of my final arrow aimed at The Gift. Is the room spinning? The air is getting thicker . . .
“I think a toast is in order!” Marlowe interrupts, sparing us from the approaching mental breakdown.
Raising his glass, Hudson starts us off. “To doing things that matter to us.”
“To creating pockets of joy,” Avery sounds off.
“To a year of a life well lived,” Matt joins, raising his glass with the others.
“To the most bold and reckless display of affection,” Marlowe chimes in, smirking at Dean.
“To finding each other again,” I whisper.
“To forever ,” Dean closes the toast.
This time, there’s no uncomfortable energy shift as there had been the first time I spoke of forever . There’s a charged silent agreement between the six of us—we will not be diminished down to a stunted future. Tomorrow, they will be scattered pieces of fabric waiting to be stitched together, and I will be the seamstress.
My memory will reunite us all.