Epilogue
EPILOGUE
1 YEAR LATER
Eli
“Why the fuck did my brother decide on a winter wedding? Why couldn’t he have picked a nicer time of year?” I grumbled, wrapping my coat tighter around me as Tristan and I picked our way across the hotel car park in the rain under the cover of a large umbrella. “It’s not even snowing. That’s the only reason to have a fucking winter wedding.”
“It’s romantic, and it’s what he and Ruby wanted,” Tristan said, unruffled by my grumbling. “And it might snow later.”
“I doubt it.” I squinted up at the thick clouds and hummed. “I hope they don’t want to do pictures outside.”
“If they do, you’ll only be required to be in a few. And you’ll have an umbrella.”
“I should probably stop bitching,” I said as we reached the door and stepped into the glorious warmth of the hotel lobby. It was festooned with garlands and Christmas trees, which I had to admit would look nice in the photos. I was only grumpy because I’d had a very late Friday night and wasn’t expecting my presence to be required so early on Saturday. Who got married before lunchtime? I’d been expecting to sleep until twelve, not be attending a wedding. But when my boyfriend was the best man and my brother was the groom, I had to make some sacrifices. Although I was definitely making them for Tristan, not Richard.
“You? Bitch? Never.” Tristan chuckled as he shook out the umbrella and took off his coat. As always, he looked very handsome in his dark grey suit.
“I know. It’s such a rarity.” I grinned and leant up to kiss him. “But if we ever get married, I want better weather.”
“We live in the UK. I can’t guarantee anything.”
“Fuck it. Let’s go to Vegas then. Or Hawai’i. Somewhere warm. I bet there’s a list somewhere of places gay couples can get married abroad. Oscar would know.” I made a mental note to ask my brother later. I’d corner him during the reception. Tristan smiled at me.
“I thought you wanted to be the centre of attention and have a cake bigger than your head?” he asked, folding his coat over his arm and leading me through the hotel towards the ceremony space. There were already a few people milling around. I interlaced my fingers with his, my chest fluttering because I couldn’t believe he’d remembered that conversation we’d had in the kitchen of Green & Wodehouse last year.
“True, but I can be the centre of attention anywhere.” I squeezed his hand. “And cake isn’t exclusive to the UK.” I looked up at him as we walked, drinking in his face for what had to be the millionth time. How I’d ended up with someone like Tristan Rose was a mystery I’d never solve. He was far too wonderful for me, but that made me appreciate him all the more. He made my life a thousand times better just by existing in it. “But if I’m honest, I don’t really mind where we get married. If we decide to get married,” I said hastily, suddenly realising what territory we were stumbling into. “All I’d really need is you.”
Tristan halted, looking down at me with his perfect smile. He kissed me, drawing me to him like a magnet. “I’d still make sure you had cake.”
“That’s because you are fucking perfect.”
He laughed, and we started walking again. Two minutes later, we found ourselves in the ceremony space, and while I got whisked into last-minute preparations, Tristan tried to get Richard to stop pacing and breathe. Truly, I’d never seen a man look so green.
The guests started to arrive, and I greeted relatives I hadn’t spoken to in years. Despite the fact that my close family was very big and very gay, some of my relatives still seemed to think I should be holding down a normal job and acting… well, straight. It was fun watching their faces when I got to tell them I’d spent six months of the year doing two different drag shows across the country.
I still wasn’t doing drag full-time since I’d come back in between the shows and taken a temporary admin job to boost my bank balance, but it worked itself out. I got the feeling I was always going to hustle for money, but that didn’t really bother me. I had enough to pay my bills, pay for my art, and occasionally spoil Tristan, and that was fine. Tristan did very well, and we’d had a serious conversation about money before we’d moved in together in May. He’d tried to insist on paying for everything, but I’d put my foot down and insisted on a proportional split at least.
I think some people were surprised we’d moved in together after only eight months, but it didn’t surprise me at all. My contract on the flat had ended, and both Orlando and I were spending more time at our respective partners’ houses than there. It just made sense. Besides, I already knew I’d marry Tristan tomorrow if the opportunity presented itself.
I should probably ask him at some point.
The guests settled down, and Richard took his place at the front with the registrar, Tristan beside him. I found a seat with Finn, Gem, and Jules, and we chatted quietly for a second before music began to fill the air.
Ruby looked beautiful in her dress, which was champagne and black with a tulle skirt that made her look like the gothic queen of the fae, especially with her dark hair set in soft curls. The flowers she carried were dark and wild with little pops of cream, red, and gold, and I remembered Lewis saying Leo was doing the floral arrangements after he and Ruby had met and started chatting at It’s a Drag! . I wondered if I could ask for a finder’s fee in the form of a nice piece of cake and a bouquet for Tristan.
The ceremony went off without a hitch, although all my parents cried, and afterwards, we went for a reception with winter Pimms and warm cider and trays of mince pies, warm cheese straws, and tiny cups of soup as appetisers. I tried to eat as many snacks as possible in between being summoned for pictures. Tristan was in his element with a list of photographs and a tiny pencil he’d procured from somewhere so he could tick them off. He wrangled everyone with a quiet but firm charm and only raised his voice a couple of times. I’d have bellowed at everyone like a foghorn. I was definitely going to make sure Tristan got a reward later for being so wonderful. He deserved to be spoilt rotten.
I wondered if our ties would make adequate restraints.
“I tell you what,” Lewis muttered to me as we put down our drinks to pose for another family photo. “This big wedding marlarky is a pain in the ass.”
I looked at him and grinned. “Thinking of eloping?”
“Maybe.” He flushed the same pink as his hair. “Or maybe just not doing this.”
“Whatever you and Jason do, at least have some sort of party afterwards,” I said. “Just so we can have cake and tell Jason all the embarrassing stories about you from when you were little.”
“Haven’t you done that already?”
“I’m sure I can find more.”
Eventually there was a meal, which thankfully wasn’t a Christmas dinner, and then speeches. Ruby’s dad made everyone cry, Tristan made everyone cry, and Richard topped it off by making Ruby cry. I wasn’t going to admit that Tristan’s speech had made my eyes prickle when he’d talked about how thankful he was for Richard’s friendship and how perfect he and Ruby were together. Although I did think he could have mentioned some of Richard’s previous dating disasters or the fact that he’d punched me, but perhaps that would have been in poor taste. And the wedding was very tasteful.
When I married Tristan, our wedding would be full of drag artists and flamboyant queers. Perhaps we could have some sort of mini cabaret performance as part of it. That would be fun.
Afterwards, there was a short break before the evening festivities began, but any hope I’d had of stealing Tristan away was lost as the pair of us were cornered by relatives and then some of my family insisting on playing card games in the bar. It was fun, but I’d rather have found a very quiet corner for the pair of us to make out. We could probably have even snuck out to the car for some quick fun since we weren’t staying the night. But no, that would all have to wait until later.
Finally, the whole thing resumed again with the cake cutting and first dance, and Tristan and I got dragged onto the floor to slow dance alongside the happy couple. I’d hardly ever slow danced before, but being wrapped in Tristan’s arms and gazing into his eyes made the familiar fire in my chest spark and grow. I loved him more than I could possibly say. He’d accepted every part of me and rolled with them.
Being out on tour had been hard on both of us, but we’d managed.
The first tour had been in the late spring when I’d still been at Green & Wodehouse. Most of our performances had been over the weekends, but we’d had a couple during the week, and it had meant I’d either had to drive home very late at night or hot foot it up the motorway first thing in the morning. There were some nights where I definitely shouldn’t have been driving because I was so exhausted, but I’d made it each time. Thank fuck for Jules who had kept my car running while muttering that I needed a better one than the heap of junk I’d been driving with progressive intensity. Tristan and I had fought about it because he’d wanted to buy me something new, and it was only after a lecture from Jules—and Lewis, who knew what it was like to be in a financially disparate relationship—that I’d given in. I’d spent a long time apologising as thoroughly as I could and then let Tristan help me buy a three-year-old, secondhand Corsa that had barely done ten thousand miles.
The second tour had been this autumn, and I’d been away for up to a week at a time. That had been harder for different reasons, mostly because I missed Tristan so much it hurt. I wasn’t sure when I’d gone from being fine on my own, to needing him with such fierce intensity, but it had happened, and it made some of the weeks suck. I loved performing though, and the shows had been amazing, so I wouldn’t have changed that. I’d just wished I could magically bring Tristan with me for a couple of nights a week. We’d made it through, and we’d keep making it because that was what we did.
I’d spent a long time talking to Jason about it because out of everyone I knew, he was the one who understood the most since he spent so much of his time in London working on theatre productions. I’d actually ended up going out for drinks with him, his brother—superstar Henry Lu—and Henry’s best friend, the incredible Rosamund Jones, after one show. It was a night I’d never forget. They’d even come to see my show the next day, taken backstage selfies with all of the performers, and plastered the pictures all over Instagram.
I didn’t want to say that was the reason I was getting more work next year, but it hadn’t hurt.
“What are you thinking about?” Tristan asked as we swayed slowly on the spot amongst all the other couples. “You look very pensive.”
“Just thinking about you and me and what a weird year it’s been.”
“It’s been a good year though.”
“It has. Not really one I’d have predicted.” I smiled at him. “How long do you think we have to stay tonight?”
Tristan smirked. “Why? Got plans?”
“For you? Of course.” I kissed him slowly, pressing my tongue against his lips. When we broke apart, Tristan looked at me with desperate eyes and sighed.
“I don’t know… Maybe another couple of hours? I’m best man, so I’ll need to help clean up and sort everything out.”
“You’re too good.” I pressed my hand to his chest and leant in close. “That’s going to earn you more rewards.”
“This is where I need time to go faster,” he muttered. I chuckled.
“Don’t worry. We have the whole of tomorrow to do nothing,” I said, kissing him again. I was already planning to make the most of it. “There’s no rush at all. I can wait a few more hours to spoil you.”
We circled slowly on the floor as the song drew to a close. I took Tristan’s hand and interlaced our fingers together, leading him off the floor. Whatever happened, wherever we went, I knew Tristan would be there for me and I’d be there for him.
It was going to be the two of us, forever and all time.
Always.
The End