Chapter 4 #2
He and my sister organized the whole thing in the end, so I still haven’t met this Julian guy or even seen a photo.
I know Bee wanted for him to be a kind of present for me, never mind that this is hers and Isaac’s big day.
She just has that big of a heart. It’s funny that I’m actually sort of nervous to meet him, and kind of excited as well.
I’m pretty sure she’s made it clear to all our guests not to mention or make a fuss about the fact that our parents will be absent.
She’s told them exactly who it is that will be walking her down the aisle.
But I know people can’t help themselves.
There will undoubtedly be some who’ll be looking at me, thinking that it’s my fault our parents refused to come.
That if I was to be less selfish and could just rein in some of my more flamboyant tendencies, we might have reached a truce and had them here.
However, I swore to myself I’d never let them cower me ever again.
That I would live unapologetically as myself until the day I die.
Bee knows and supports that. But having another gay man here—a Black one, at that—might just make some people stop and think about how alone I’d possibly feel otherwise.
For the hundredth time, I picture a sweet grampa type making a fuss over my sister as he gives her away.
And we’re going to be seated next to one another for the wedding breakfast, so I hope it’s not cringe to wonder if he’ll have some stories to tell me.
Some pearls of wisdom to impart. I’m sure he’ll want to talk to Bee as well, but I hope it’s not greedy to anticipate that we might get some quality time between us, too.
In my opinion, our generation of gay men unfortunately aren’t always as appreciative as they should be toward those that came before us.
The ones we lost and the ones that are still here.
Obviously, things still aren’t all sunshine and roses nowadays.
My parents are enough proof of that. But men like this guy Julian lived through even worse.
I’m certain there’s a lot I could learn from him.
For a moment, I indulge in a daydream that he might want to consider staying in touch after today.
I know that’s not what he signed up for, and I would never be so presumptuous to ask anything like that of him.
But it’s my fantasy, and I allow myself just a little time to imagine meeting up to play checkers.
Or maybe I could help him out by mowing his lawn or walking his dog, if he has one.
Just simple things I might do if my parents weren’t terrible people or if their parents hadn’t already passed away.
Deciding I probably shouldn’t waste any more time, I sigh and haul myself to my feet to go in search of drinks, both alcoholic and not. This is a celebration, not a pity party. It’s time to forget all my woes and go have some fun!
So I brush my pant legs down and check my reflection in a mirror, pleased that my make-up is still in place. Straightening my pink vest, I banish all melancholy thoughts where they belong and turn to march out of the empty bar to find one that’s serving.
Only to bash headlong into someone trying to come inside.
“Shit!” I squeak, stumbling backward. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry!”
The other guy is far more solid on his feet, however, and reaches to steady me as well. His strong hands wrap around my shoulders as he smiles at me.
Oh. What a smile.
Tall and broad, Mr. Sex-On-Legs makes sure I’m stable again before letting me go.
I want to demand he put his damn hands right back where they were.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he says with a rumbling laugh that shoots electricity throughout my entire body. “Are you alright?”
I am now, I think, practically swooning before him. If I had longer hair, I’d twirl it around my finger.
“Just peachy,” I assure him, barely resisting the urge to fan myself. I clasp my hands together instead and suddenly realize he’s wearing the exact same vest as me. He’s already got his suit jacket on, so I missed it before. “Oh!” I cry. “Are you with the wedding party? Are you looking for Isaac?”
I know he’s got a couple of uncles coming. Nobody warned me any of them would be this hot, though. Yes, he’s older than me, but not too much. Maybe early forties if I had to guess. I flick my eyes to his temples where just a hint of salt-and-pepper is starting to show in his hair.
Yum.
“Actually, I’m looking for the bride,” says the stranger. “I seem to have gotten turned around, though.”
“You’re looking for Beatrice?” I ask in surprise. If he knows her, why don’t I know him? I want to know him.
The guy nods and looks a little nervous, rubbing his palms together as he glances down the corridor. “I’m helping her out today. But, um, if I’m being honest, we’ve only spoken over video call before. She gave me directions to her room. However, this place is huge.”
He’s never met her before but he’s at her wedding? He isn’t the photographer, as I arranged him. I arranged everyone. Except…
It hits me. He has to be…but he can’t be…can he?
Julian Valentine is stepping in as father-of-the-bride. He’s supposed to be, well, fatherly.
As I step back and drink the stranger in some more, it occurs to me that he’s still that in a way. A really hot way.
Hellooo, Daddy.
Best. Wedding. Ever.