Chapter 5
I waited in the shadow of Hemlock House, the wind high and whipping and full of the smell of the sea and the summer grasses, and the music changed.
My cue.
(Again.)
This time, though, I was ready, and I stepped around the side of the house. And there was Bobby.
He wore the light gray suit we’d picked out (similar in cut and style to my own, darker gray, but not identical).
And his boutonniere had more color in it than mine.
But we had matching bow ties (yes, I picked them out, and no, they didn’t have a single video game reference, cartoon character, or Dungeons and Dragons connection).
My favorite part, though, were our shoes.
Sneakers, of course.
Bobby had told me all about them. And I—because I am a very good boyfriend—had listened.
All I remembered now, though, was that his pair, with their cream-colored leather and dark brown trim, looked so good on him.
Mine were pure white, and yes, they were cute, minimalist low-tops.
When I’d made the mistake of asking Bobby how much they’d cost, I’d almost passed out.
All of that flashed through my mind in a second, though, because Bobby was moving toward me, and I was still on autopilot, walking toward him.
He looked so serious. His hair was in its usual razor-sharp part, and he was freshly shaved.
The burnt-bronze eyes. That insane jawline.
And then, just for me, a hint of the goofy grin before the familiar reserve dropped back into place.
When we reached each other, he took my hand, and we started down the aisle.
I had to admit, Fox had outdone themselves.
The setup consisted of white folding chairs and a flower arch set on a low rise that gave a view of the ocean.
It was simple. It was elegant. It was perfect.
The wind tousled my hair (Bobby’s hair still looked impeccable, of course), and it was cool enough to raise goose bumps on the back of my neck, and when I turned my head, it filled my ear, and it was what every child wanted to hear when they listened to a seashell.
And what made everything even more perfect (I know, something can’t be more perfect, insert eye roll) was that our family and friends were there.
If I was being totally honest, I’d kind of wondered if, when I finally walked down the aisle, I’d pass out from all that unwanted attention.
I mean, there were a lot of eyes looking at me.
And yes, I still had the feeling that I had a stomach full of moths that were doing their best to get into my lungs and suffocate me.
So, maybe that’s why everything seemed to register as snapshots.
Keme and Millie and Fox and Indira waiting at the flower arch, opposite Bobby’s brother, Eric, and a couple of Bobby’s friends from college.
(Fox, I’m sure you’re all dying to know, had worn a black suit with a black-on-black paisley scarf, and from what I’d manage to hear in the flurry of preparations, they were eager to let everyone know that the suit was crushed velvet.) And our friends from town.
Mrs. Shufflebottom wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.
Tessa with her daughter on her lap, pointing to us and waving.
Cheri-Ann Fryman, holding up her phone and, I suspected, live-streaming the whole thing for the benefit of everybody else in Hastings Rock.
Chester was there, looking like a snack rolled in a dream, with his dad, Tony, next to him.
For some reason, when Chester saw me, he got a huge smile on his face and then ducked his head.
Althea and Bliss Wilson were there, holding hands.
Bliss whispered something in Althea’s ear, and Althea giggled and gave me a giant side-to-side wave like I might, somehow, miss her in the crowd.
And that was why I didn’t black out, I guess. Because all these people loved me. And I loved them.
Our parents were seated in the front row, my mom and dad on one side, Bobby’s dad on the other.
My dad wore a huge smile (and no, he wasn’t carrying a gun—I’d asked him twice, and then, just to be safe, I’d frisked him before everyone went outside).
My mom wasn’t smiling. She was watching me with that familiar intensity, the way she looked when I knew she was capturing everything, recording it, processing it.
I thought, probably not too far in the future, there’d be a book about a young man getting married.
But her face looked open and soft in a way I wasn’t sure I’d seen before, and she was clutching my dad’s hand.
Next to them, my sister Dottie was bouncing her son on her knee.
The grin she shot me said she had a very good idea of what I was thinking.
Bobby’s dad looked thinner than I remembered, but he sat with perfect posture in his navy suit (of course he did; this was the man who created Bobby), and he gave Bobby a nod as we passed him.
And then we were at the arch.
The music quieted.
Bobby and I turned to face each other, and he took both my hands now.
Indira stepped out of line and joined us under the arch. She looked lovely in a dark green dress, her hair styled loosely over one shoulder, and she smiled as she put her hands over ours for a moment.
“Welcome, everyone,” she said in that crisp, clear voice—out of the corner of my eye, I saw Millie’s brother, Ryan, sit up straight. “We are gathered here today to celebrate one of life’s most important moments and to witness as Dash and Bobby join their lives together.”
I made the mistake of looking into the deep bronze of Bobby’s eyes, and I was lost. He looked so solemn. And his hands were so solid wrapped around mine. I thought, even with the wind blowing, I could hear him breathing.
“Marriage is a promise between two people that they will love each other, support each other, care for each other, and grow together for the rest of their lives. And when I think about how these wonderful young men have already been doing that work—how they have laughed and cried together, how they have watched over each other in sickness and injury, how they have slowly and surely built a life together, and how they worked so hard to find each other—”
“Took them long enough,” Fox put in.
A laugh rolled through our friends and family. I laughed, although that was about ninety percent nerves. Bobby’s goofy grin even slipped out for a second.
“I think we all know,” Indira said, “that what Bobby and Dash have is special, and I’m grateful to be here with all of you to witness this declaration of love and faith.
” She fell silent, and when I glanced over, her eyes were shining.
Her mouth trembled, and then she managed a smile.
“I understand the couple has written their own vows, but first, let’s do the official bit.
Dash, do you take Bobby to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live? ”
My eyes stung. I nodded. “I do.”
Bobby breathed out, and I hadn’t realized, until then, how tense he’d been.
“Bobby,” Indira said, “do you take Dash to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”
Bobby’s hands tightened around mine. His voice was thick when he said, “I do.”
A cheer went up from the crowd.
“I believe we have rings to exchange,” Indira said.
Keme carried them over. He wasn’t smiling, but he looked so happy he was positively glowing. I took Bobby’s ring. Bobby took mine.
“You may now exchange your vows and rings,” Indira said. “Dash.”
The wind in my hair. Gulls turning overhead. Clouds and the smell of spruce and pine and earth soaked by yesterday’s rain. And Bobby.
“Did you know you can get writer’s block with wedding vows?” I said.
I’m not going to tell you everyone groaned. But it was certainly the majority. And I swear I heard someone mutter, “You donkey.”
Bobby, though, grinned.
“I honestly have no idea how much time I spent staring at a blank piece of paper, trying to think of what I wanted to say.” And then my throat got a million times scratchier, and I had to fight to add, “How to tell you I love you.”
Everybody seemed to like that, to judge by the murmurs and the sounds of endearment.
Bobby mouthed, I love you too.
That almost undid me, but somehow, I pulled it together. “But then I realized, I wasn’t talking to a stranger. I wasn’t trying to explain this to someone I didn’t know. I was talking to you. And before everything else, Bobby, you were my friend.
“Before everything else, he investigated you for murder!” Mr. Cheek shouted from the congregation.
But it had a fragile good humor in it, and we all laughed.
(No, I didn’t want to invite him, but I had nightmares of him breaking into the house and kidnapping me, plus Bobby said Mr. Cheek actually cried when Bobby gave him his invitation.)
“You are my friend,” I told Bobby. “You are my best friend. Bobby, I honestly can’t remember what my life was like before I met you.
Lonely; I know that much. Lonely and…less.
So much less. And when I think back to how this started, to those first time we talked, and then you gave me a bike, and then we went on a hike, and somehow, one day, you were lying on the billiard room floor, listening to your music while I read, and—” I had to stop.
A tear spilled down my cheek. “And Bobby, it just happened. One day, you were my life. My whole life. And I will never, ever not be grateful that I met you. I spent so many years not wanting to take any risks. Not wanting to make a mistake. And you taught me that you can’t live your life that way.
You can’t wait and plan and hope forever.
And thank God you did, Bobby, because I think in some ways, I didn’t really start living until I met you. ”
I had to stop again. Out to sea, a gull cried. The trees whispered back and forth.
“So,” I said, blinking to clear my eyes, “I want to promise you that I will always love you. I know I’m not an easy person to share a life with, but every day, I’m going to try to do better, because you deserve the best. I promise that I will do everything I can to support you, because you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I want you to have everything you want.
And I promise you—” A lopsided grin spilled out. “—that I will try to be safe.”
More laughs, but softer now, and broken.
“I love you, Bobby,” I said. “And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
My hand trembled as I slid the ring—a simple gold band—onto his finger.
When I tried to draw back, Bobby caught my hand and kissed me. A few scattered cheers broke the stillness, and some laughs, and then Indira clearing her throat in a good-humored way.
Bobby let me go. His eyes were full of tears, and where the sunlight caught them, they blazed.
He reached for his back pocket and took out a folded piece of paper.
He met my eyes. A hint of a smile slanted across his expression—wry, almost rueful.
And then—because Bobby can very occasionally be both a showoff and a huge ham—he put the paper back into his pocket.
And that did it. I laughed. And I started to cry.
“Dash,” he said, and his voice was low, because this was Bobby, and this was so hard for him.
And maybe because he was talking just to me.
“When I met you—” And then he stopped, emotion clipping off his voice.
Frustration filled his features. That war of powerful emotions and the need for control.
Several seconds passed. I nodded at him, smiling through my tears, wanting to tell him it was okay.
That everything was okay. Bobby’s face cleared, but his hand not holding the ring opened and clenched, over and over again, at his side.
“When I met you,” he said, “I had no idea how important you were going to be in my life. I had no idea that you were going to change everything for me. I had no idea you were going to make me happy. All I knew was that you were—you were different. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met before.
You were brave. You were kind. You talked—” He broke off, but this time it was to smile. “—so much.”
More of that happy-but-broken laughter.
“And every time you talked, it was like you were opening this doorway, and I got to step inside and see who you were and learn more about you and realize how wonderful you were. And I fell in love with you. It took me a long time to be brave enough to do something about how I felt, but I want you to know that I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to be as brave as you are.
Until I met you—” He swallowed, shook his head, and a tear fell to shine on his jacket like a drop of sun-fire.
“One of the things I love about you is that you make me feel safe. You make me feel like I can be who I really am with you. You make me feel like I can tell you anything. I never got to do that before I met you.” A sound that wasn’t really a laugh slipped out.
“I didn’t even know how. And I know I have a lot of work to do still.
But I want you to know that I’m going to do that work.
I promise that I will share my life with you.
I promise that I will do everything I can to make you happy, that I will keep you safe, that I will honor you and respect you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated: as the person I love and cherish most in the entire world.
” He drew a deep breath and then, with surprising steadiness, slipped the ring onto my finger—black tungsten inlaid with meteorite (if you ever needed proof Bobby knew me and loved me, this was it).
His fingers folded around mine, and he whispered, “I love you.”
“By the power vested in me by the State of Oregon,” Indira said, “I pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss.”
Bobby took my face in his hands.
And I don’t want to get too in the weeds about it, but if there’s one thing Bobby’s good at, it’s following directions.
With Bobby kissing me, and my friends and family cheering, and Fox dabbing at their eyes with their scarf, and Indira clapping, and Millie jumping and screaming, and Keme crying and trying to pretend he wasn’t (I was going to bring it up for at least a year), I couldn’t help thinking that if my life were a mystery novel, this would be a great place to end.
Or maybe not.
Because you know the thing about my favorite books?
There are always more stories to tell.