Epilogue
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
“Bryce, are you almost ready to go?” I yell from the bathroom where I put the finishing touches on trimming my beard. I put my hearing aid back in post-shower so I can hear Bryce’s response.
However, he says nothing.
“Bryce?”
I strut into the bedroom and find my boyfriend sprawled out on the bed in a T-shirt and sweats.
“Bryce,” I sigh.
“I can’t get dressed. There’s a dog on me.”
Bobo lounges across Bryce’s legs. He looks up and yawns, then goes back to licking his paw.
“Bobo. Off.” I give him a strict nod and point to the floor. Bobo has gotten better at heeding my commands over this past year. Or maybe I’ve gotten better at giving them, a difficult task when faced with such an adorable dog.
Bobo lumbers off Bryce and jumps to the floor. He rubs against the towel wrapped around me.
“I wish you could come with us,” I tell him.
“He can take my place,” Bryce says, still prone on the bed with no intention of moving. “Put a bowtie on him. Nobody will know the difference.”
I gently shake Bryce’s ankle.
“Ow,” he deadpans.
“We have to go soon. The opera waits for no one.”
“I can sum up what happens. Someone sings a beautiful song in a language we don’t understand while their lover dies. The end.”
“We’re seeing Die Fledermaus . It’s a farce.”
“People in elaborate makeup and costumes trying to be funny while singing? Honey, can’t we just go to drag cabaret instead?”
I sit on the bed and give his leg another shake. When I was growing up, my dad used to overturn the mattress when I slept in. Maybe I should do the same here.
“It’s a special night. A year ago, you mistook me for a Grindr date, and our love blossomed from there.” I chuckle, thinking about the truly odd path that love can take. So long as that path led me to Bryce Derrickson, then it was worth the crazy twists and turns.
“Let’s stay in instead.”
Bryce reaches out a hand and feels around my face like he’s searching for a light switch in the dark.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Trying to give you a hand job.”
“I’ll pass.” I politely move his hand away.
“Ugh I’m so tired. I just got home an hour ago, and I was on set until eleven last night going over the choreography for next week’s show.”
“I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of me, too. But working hard is really hard. I have an idea. What if you quit teaching and do finance?”
“I don’t think ‘do finance’ is grammatically correct.”
“This is why I’m bad at money. Anyway, you do finance, and then we’ll buy a house in the Hamptons, and I can be a housewife who reads magazines and shops at farmstands all day.”
“Baby, you would be so bored. So. Bored.”
“Ugh, you’re right.”
I massage deep circles into his foot. The first season of Queers in the Headlights was a big hit for the network and quickly renewed.
However, most of the major talent involved realized that filming in LA didn’t have the same energy as filming in New York.
They couldn’t do on-the-street segments because there were no pedestrians in Burbank, for one.
They missed the grungy, scrappy downtown vibe that had birthed the show.
With the improved clout, Preeti and the producers got them to move production back here.
Just as I was about to psych myself up for a long-distance relationship, I learned that Bryce wasn’t going anywhere.
His days on the show are long, but he gets to come home to a home-cooked meal and lots of snuggly couch time with me and Bobo.
My heart still skips a beat when I hear him lumber up the stairs and jiggle his key in the lock.
Bryce tips his head in my direction. He cocks an eyebrow. “What?”
“What do you mean, what?”
“You’re looking at me.”
“Because I like what I see.” I used to think that my work was enough to sustain me.
I had passion for classical music and my research.
I had ambition. But I realized how hollow these desires were without love in my life.
Having someone who gets me enriches my life in new ways.
With Bryce, I don’t have to work hard. I don’t have to try or strive. I can just be me.
I lean down and kiss his salty lips, peer into his wide, warm eyes.
“I love the opera, thanks to you, but I’m going to fall asleep,” he whispers .
“You can rest on my shoulder.” I push a lock of hair away from his face.
Bryce reaches between us. “Someone’s excited for the opera.”
He wiggles his eyebrows as he goes to town rubbing something.
“Bryce, you’re stroking one of Bobo’s chew toys.”
He grabs the phallically shaped toy in question, a bright blue, rubber object. “Oh.”
“Let’s get dressed.” I pat his leg and toss the toy onto the floor.
“Fine.” Bryce drags himself to sitting up.
He wipes exhaustion from his eyes, and for a second, I feel bad for forcing my boyfriend to go to the opera.
But then I remember that Bryce has a huge capacity for finding his second wind.
Once we get to dinner, he’ll perk up. And being around all the operagoers at the Met will wake him up even more.
He’s very much an extrovert energized by being social.
I am so not that, but I’m glad I’m dating someone who is or else I’d never leave the apartment.
He trudges to the closet and picks out an outfit. I walk over to the wardrobe crammed in the corner of the room and pull out my clothes for tonight. I play some Wagner in the background as we get dressed.
“You know, it’s cruel and borderline homophobic to get naked in front of me and not do anything about it,” he says.
“That will come later.” I loop the tie around my neck.
“Or we could come now.” He gives my butt a squeeze right before I put on my pants.
As much as I would like to have my way with Bryce on the bed, we really are pressed for time. I tried to give him as much time as possible to rest before we had to leave.
I wait in the living room with Bobo as Bryce finishes getting ready. A few minutes later, he emerges looking gorgeous in a blazer, slacks, and sparkly boots. You can’t turn down the volume on Bryce Derrickson no matter how hard you try .
“I’m ready.” He gives me a halfhearted thumbs-up.
“Before we go, I want to show you something.” A smile sneaks onto my face. “It’s on the mantel.”
I point to the envelope.
“What’s that?” Bryce’s face turns a curious shade of white.
“Open it and find out.”
“I’m not big on surprises. Remember the anxiety attack I had while watching the finals of Drag Race ?”
“Open it.” I stay in place. My eyes try to assure him as much as possible that it’s a good surprise. Bryce has been burned in the past with surprise breakups. My goal is to eventually make him fall in love with surprises.
Bryce opens the envelope. He scans through the document, crinkling his brow. “I’m confused. There are a lot of words on this. What is it?”
“It’s a new lease agreement. As of this month, I’ve officially and permanently taken over the lease.”
“No more Anthony?”
“No more Anthony. I made Carl put your name on the lease this time.” I walk up to Bryce and get on one knee. I take a pen from my front pocket and hand it up to him. “Bryce Derrickson, will you co-sign this apartment lease with me?”
He throws a hand over his heart. Tears well at his eyes.
“There’s nobody on this earth that I would rather live in overpriced real estate with,” I say. Forget about rings, in Manhattan, real estate is the real romance.
“This … you’re staying …”
I get up and pull him close to me. He has been through so much.
I want to protect him from all future heartache.
“Bryce, I’m always staying. And if I ever leave this apartment, you’re coming with me.
And you too, buddy.” I double-pat my leg to signal Bobo over.
He nuzzles into his favorite spot, the gap between our legs.
“I love you,” Bryce says in between kisses .
“I am truly so proud of what you’ve accomplished, and what you’re going to accomplish. I am so lucky I get to stand next to you.” I wipe away his tear.
“And I’m proud of you, Em. You’re one of UNY’s most popular professors.”
“Just according to Rate My Professor.” I give a modest shrug. Bryce also found pictures of me lecturing on a Hot For Teacher Instagram page. I am nicknamed Professor SLG (Slutty Little Glasses). Bryce assured me any attention was good attention, and I assured him that I am only hot for him.
“We should go. Opera. Arias and all that.” Bryce looks up at me, his eyes two deep wells of emotion and hope. I could stare into them all day. And lucky for me, I get to.
I pull him closer with one hand. Bobo nuzzles deeper into the space between our legs. Their warmth radiates in my heart.
There we are, one happy family.