Epilogue
MAX
One year later…
“So are you ready?” Eli asked me, raising his coffee cup to his lips and studying me.
We’d grown close over the time I lived with Evelyn, and now we tried to check in for coffee or drinks at least once a week.
It turned out that for all Eli looked like a burly bear who’d as soon punch you as look at you, he was actually a teddy bear, always happy to help with anything Lucas or I needed.
We’d bonded over our shared affection for campy novels and he’d even taught me to make some small repairs around the house.
I met his dark eyes over my own drink. I’d invited him out this afternoon because I needed to get out of the apartment and away from Lucas before my anxiety completely took over.
I knew what I wanted; I just didn’t know if I was going to get it.
If I could keep busy until it was time to go to group in an hour or two, maybe I could hold on to my sanity.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” I said.
“I don’t think it’s possible to be totally prepared when there’s a whole ‘nother person and his whims and emotions involved.”
He put down his cup and scrubbed a hand through his short hair. “Don’t stress, brother. The man loves you hard. He’s going to say yes.”
Trying not to let my doubts show, I took a big gulp of my latte.
I knew Lucas loved me, and I knew he loved living with me, but what I didn’t know was how he felt about marriage in general, and marriage to me in particular.
He’d made the odd comment that sounded like he thought it wasn’t necessary for a happy life as a couple, but I’d also caught him looking longingly—at least, I thought—at people’s rings a few times.
The messages were mixed, and that wasn’t helping my anxiety over my forthcoming proposal, but at the core of it, I just really wanted to be married to him.
I wanted people to know he was mine and I was his, and I wanted us both to be protected if one of us ended up back in the hospital.
So I was going to do this, despite my practically paralyzing fears.
“I hope so,” I finally told Eli. “And I hope he’s not disappointed with my proposal. What if he wants a big production number? A flash mob or something?”
He eyed me skeptically. “I don’t know Lucas as well as you do, obviously, but I don’t get the impression he’s an attention-seeker who’d want everyone’s eyes on him as you serenade him or something. Am I wrong?”
I shook my head and sucked down the last sip of my coffee.
“No, you’re right. He’d die if I put him on the jumbotron, metaphorically speaking.
Or, hell, literally speaking.” I looked down into my empty cup and considered getting a refill.
That had been my third, and the voice of wisdom in the back of my mind told me that the last thing my anxiety needed was more caffeine on top of it, but I needed something to do with my hands.
“But he does like originality, and sometimes I don’t feel like this is going to come across like I put a lot of special thought into it.
Even though I’ve been thinking about how to do it for months and this is the most ‘him’ thing I’ve come up with. ”
“You’re still planning on doing it tonight?” he asked. “Taking him to dinner and all?”
I nodded. “Is proposing over dinner in a nice restaurant too cliche?”
He tipped his head back as he poured the last of his drink down his throat, then set the mug down. “Nah, man. I mean, it is a little cliche, but you’re doing it that way because you think it suits your man, not because you don’t have any better ideas. What else did you consider, again?”
I thought back to the last few months, when I had flitted wildly from idea to idea, many of which I’d called Eli to talk through.
“I considered getting a song written for him about wanting to marry him and then trying to sing it. Except I can’t sing for shit.
” Eli snorted. “I thought about just getting take-out at home and slipping the ring into his drink, but I’ve heard too many horror stories about people swallowing the ring or biting down on it and breaking a tooth.
And then I was thinking I’d just get down on one knee before bed one night, all casual, because he’s a low-key sort of guy.
But none of those felt right. I want him to know that I care about him enough to have put some work into it, but also enough to not embarrass him or go over the top. ”
“See?” He slapped his hand on the table authoritatively. “You’ve thought about this a lot. He’s going to understand that. You’ll probably laugh together over all your rejected ideas later on.”
“God, I hope so.” I pushed back from the table. “I’m getting another. You want one?”
Eli shook his head and studied me closely, looking from my face to my hands, which I realized were trembling slightly. “You sure you need that much caffeine today, of all days?”
“I’ve gotta do something, Eli. And I need to stay out of the apartment or else I’m just going to see Lucas and blurt it all out and ruin everything. So, coffee it is.”
“For the record,” he said thoughtfully, “I don’t think you’d ruin anything if that happened. It might not be what you planned, but any way is the right way if it works for you guys and gets you a ‘yes’.”
He had a point. I’d been obsessing so much about getting the proposal right that maybe I’d lost sight—slightly, just a little—of my objective: Lucas and me, together, any way I could get him.
Giving Eli a nod, I picked up my cup and headed to the register to order a refill, the slight hitch in my gait the only sign now that I was operating with one leg that was store-bought.
I’d finished my official PT ages ago, but I still did my stretches and exercises every day; I wanted to be strong and capable and never have to treat Lucas as a crutch rather than a lover.
When I returned to the table, Eli had pulled out his Kindle and was flipping through pages and pages of the books he had stored on there. “Whatcha reading now?” I asked, putting down my coffee and slipping into my chair.
“I’m about to start The Mad Count and the Stableboy,” he said with a smile. “It just came out last week.”
I tried valiantly not to laugh at his choice of reading material.
I knew Eli loved gay romance, the cheesier the better, but somehow the title was just icing on the cake of absurdity.
But who was I to judge? The book I was working my way through was a ridiculous techno-thriller that featured hackers doing things that weren’t even possible in the real world.
“Do you need to go?” I asked Eli. “Or do you want to hang out a bit longer?”
He shrugged. “I’m free all afternoon. I’m yours.”
“Awesome.” I pulled out my phone. “We can read together. I have got to see how this hacker takes over someone’s cat’s microchip.”
“Do what, now?”
I grinned. “Exactly.”
***
The ring box was burning a hole in my pocket when I strode into the restaurant that night to meet Lucas after group.
This was it; I was going to go home either elated or devastated, and I had no control over which it would be.
“Dion, party of two? I think my partner is already here,” I told the host.
“Ah, yes,” he said with a nod. “I put him in a corner booth in the back, as you requested. It should be quiet and relatively private for your...event.”
I glanced reflexively over my shoulder, half-afraid Lucas was lurking and would have heard that, but there was no one there. “Thanks,” I said, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d sucked in.
The man gave me a professional, if slightly supercilious, nod and turned to escort me to the love of my life.
Lucas was slouched down in the booth when we arrived there, sipping a glass of wine and scanning the menu halfheartedly. When he saw me, he straightened up and grinned. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey.” I slid into the booth, my bad leg bending awkwardly as I lowered myself into a half-crouch to put my butt on the seat. “Have you been waiting for me long?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I know what time group gets out, and I looked up how long it would take you to get here from there. I got here about ten minutes ago.” He reached for my hand and squeezed it, eyeing me curiously. “So, wanna tell me why we’re here tonight instead of McDonalds?”
Oh. Shit. The man wasn’t dumb. I fumbled for an excuse.
“I, uh...well…” Lucas’s raised eyebrow at my stumbling discomfited me even more.
“I just wanted to try something nice for a change,” I managed, knowing it was about the weakest excuse known to man.
“You deserve to have me treat you every now and then.”
He perked up, distracted. “Ooh, you’re paying?”
Well, that had turned out better than expected. I grinned at him. “I am. And if you want the surf and turf, get the surf and turf. Whatever you want.”
“Damn, loverboy,” he teased. “You must want something from me if you’re telling me to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”
I shook my head firmly. “Just you, Luc. I just want you.”
“Aw.” He gave my hand another squeeze and then let go of it to focus on his menu. A few minutes later, the server was walking away with our orders and I was sipping a craft beer. I slumped back in my seat, holding the bottle to my chest.
“So,” Lucas said, eyeing me thoughtfully, “how was group tonight? Any big revelations?”
“Nah. We talked about advances in prosthetics, mostly. I’m so glad I didn’t lose an arm or a hand; can you imagine your ability to interact with the world and manipulate things being reliant on whether your prosthetic had decided to completely work that day?”
He shuddered delicately. “Sounds tough as hell. It’s not like you’ve had a totally easy time of it, either, though. Walking and balance are complicated, too.”