Epilogue
Lix
City hall smells like moldy old paper, cheap floor polish, and the faintest hint of coffee that’s been reheated one too many times.
This is the sort of place where people come to file things away—births, deaths, promises.
But there’s nothing glamorous about it, not even in their “best room in the building,” which Stan demanded from them when flirting with the front desk folks didn’t work.
We ended up in a basic room with fold-out chairs for the family and some of our friends.
My sister’s made so many connections in the East Coast after building and running the community center for about a year now.
And Em has been mentoring students interested in STEM in the dungeon’s lab.
Both her and Elle visit hospitals and schools to run STEM programs, funded extra for orphaned youth in and around Darkhaven.
They’re fucking unstoppable, and with Damon and Sterling backing them up financially, the sky’s the damn limit for what they can do.
But here Stan and I stand, holding hands in front of a plain hardwood altar with plain beige walls that I think were painted white at one point. He and I are nothing like Elle or Em. The way we used to make money was as gunmen for hire, so it’s not like we can do much.
All we’ve been doing with our free time is be Em’s only two subjects for the past half-year for her experiment, trying out the cleaner Kys pills she makes.
Every phase she goes through, she gets closer to nailing it.
Stan has less and less insomnia each time.
My mood’s more and more stable. And the bonus is Stan and I get to exert our extra energy on her, all night and day if she wants us too.
So yeah, it’s been a great year, even though we’re in a boring building that’s all business for our wedding.
At least, there’s a seal on the wall that makes things feel official.
It’s March 3rd. Just a bit past a year since I woke up. Since I opened my eyes to fluorescent lights and the realization that I’d survived something I didn’t think I would. That I didn’t think I’d ever want to wake up from.
A year’s passed since I stepped onto that ship, met Em and reunited with Stan, like the world decided to hand me everything I thought I’d lost, or never thought I’d have, and dared me to mess it up.
I wasn’t willing to do that. I got my impossible second chance at life and wanted to make something out of it. And that’s been happening since I woke up.
Stan’s standing tall in front of me, holding my hands. I try not to make a face when his hands feel so damn clammy.
I look at him to distract myself, so I don’t think about how much sweat he might be dripping on the fuzzy floor rug if my hands aren’t catching it.
He’s obviously big, looking good in a suit that probably cost more than my first bike. Pretty sure he “borrowed” Damon’s credit card to buy it. I’m also pretty sure Damon knows and lets it slide.
Anyway, Stan’s trying to look like he’s got it together, straight jaw set, gray eyes curving with his smile.
He leans in and whispers, “Okay, listen, babe. If I cry, it’s ‘cause the lighting in here really hurts my eyes.”
I snort out a laugh. From the front row, Em’s shoulders shake as she giggles quietly, one hand on her mouth, glasses slipping a little down her nose.
Elle smiles openly, like she’s watching something she’s been rooting for all along.
Kayla just rolls her eyes and mutters something that I’m pretty sure is, “Sure, Stan.”
Stan straightens up. “Also,” he adds under his breath, “just so we’re clear, we gotta get our girl at an altar too. This is just the government-approved version for me and you, like test-driving marriage while she waits her turn.”
I sigh silently so we don’t have anyone hearing him say more stuff like that.
“What?” he whispers back, grinning. “I love you. We love Em. I’ve got a huge heart and a huge—”
“Stan.”
His grin’s nasty. “I’ll behave if you sign all the paperwork.”
I shake my head, but my smile won’t go away.
That’s the thing. He’s right. This is us doing what we can while we wait for a way to get Em married to us too.
A recently passed law says Stan and I can stand here today, two men making it official in the eyes of the state. But it doesn’t erase Em. It doesn’t shrink what we are.
Em meets my eyes and blinks big. I’ve always thought she could see through anything, like my insecurities, Stan’s bullshit, and everyone’s little acts.
She’s a straight shooter with her actions and words. It’s one of the many things I love about her, but right now, I feel like she’s seen the mess me and Stan are. And we’re lucky she still chooses us at the end of the day.
The clerk clears her throat. The room quiets. Well, honestly, it’s just Stan who needed to shut up. He takes a deep breath and puffs his broad chest out, nearly popping a button out.
Stan’s laces our fingers together tighter. He aims his smile at me while the clerk talks.
I take a deep breath.
A year ago, I thought I was just a number. A body that barely made it. A past full of memories still coming back to me that’ll wake me up some nights in cold sweat and dread that only goes away when I’m holding the two I want to share my life with.
Today, I’m standing in city hall, holding the hand of the man I love, with the woman we love watching us from the front row.
Stan leans in one last time and whispers, “Hey, Ocean Eyes. I’m real happy right now.”
My throat tightens. Tears brim my view of his growing grin. “Me too, Stan,” I whisper back.
And when the clerk asks for our vows, when the words start stacking into something binding and real, I don’t think about what we couldn’t do or what has to wait.
I think about this moment. About how love doesn’t need more than beige walls in a boring room where it smells like old paper and stale coffee.
All we need is the right people around us.
Because after everything—after fire and numbness—this is where I ended up. And I know it’s exactly where I want to be.
***
The back gardens of the Knights estate are absurd in the only way I think rich people with long-term plans can manage. The space stretches wide and open, that I expect someone to start handing out maps for a boring tour and buried treasure.
For the reception, three buffet tables form an open square near the center, packed with food and spaced apart that nobody has to awkwardly hover to get to the good stuff, even though Stan’s hogging where the spit-roasted pig is laid out in the center table.
We got lucky with the weather. It’s an early spring this year, so garden beds run along the paths, overflowing with colorful flowers.
The trees are still young, recently planted with their thin trunks and slim branches, but they’re placed like they’re meant to grow old here.
Elle said she planted them there on purpose, imagining the shade they’ll cast years from now, knowing it was worth the wait.
People arrive in waves. Families first, then friends, then groups I recognize from photos and conversations. Community members Elle works with. Students Em has mentored. People who have stood in hospital hallways, classrooms, and labs, and decided to show up here too.
Some look unsure at first. Between Em and Stan, they fix it just by being them. Stan smiles and talks, charming them. Em listens and asks questions to get them to open up. Soon enough, everyone looks relaxed.
At some point, Stan stops dead. “Oh no,” he mutters.
I follow his line of sight.
On the far end making a dramatic entrance are the two Yakuza twins I’ve heard all about, with their signature necklace chains of cut-off fingers.
“Who in the hell,” Stan asks, eyes widening, “invited them?”
He kisses both me and Em quickly before running for his life toward the bounce house he rented.
Yep, a bounce house that Kayla couldn’t say no to because it’s Stan’s big day. It’s mine too, but I don’t enjoy the fanfare as much as he does, so he can have all the fun he wants. I have my own plan for that later.
Seconds afterwards, I hear him yell that adults can be in bounce houses too. “Don’t be ageist, jerk!” he screams at a poor soul my sister runs to comfort.
Well, I hope it’s the kid she’s gonna comfort, and not Stan, but knowing those two, who knows?
I’m about to turn to speak to Em, when Kayla stomps up to me with a frown.
“Uh, hi, Kayla,” I say, unsure why she looks upset.
“So it’s true!” she shouts, jabbing a finger at me.
I lean back, almost stumbling. “Sorry?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t apologize when you don’t know what you should definitely be sorry about!”
Blinking and baffled, I raise my palms and ask, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kayla.”
“Ooh,” she seethes, squinting her eyes at me. “There you go again. Saying my government first name as if I’m not your sister’s bestest friend in the entire universe?!”
I lift a brow, while Em watches. Her big brown eyes are taking the scene in. Guess it’s entertaining to her, so I bear with it.
“Okay, copy, Kayla—” I stop myself, flinching when she looks like she’s about to throw a punch at me. “Kaye! I meant Kaye.”
She eases back, smiling a bit bitterly but looking satisfied.
“Good. Glad that’s settled.” After flipping her curls over her shoulders, she smirks.
“Congratulations on the wedding, by the way. Dae and I got you new guns to play with. He hated buying them, but I love them! Let’s try them out at a range someday! ”
Her hands are on mine while she hops, telling me about the outdoor shooting range she hopes to build behind the greenhouse one day.
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous so close to the greenhouse?” Em asks, adjusting her glasses.
Kaye bats her lashes, preening at her. “Em, if that’s your offer to help me plan it out, how can I say no to my genius bestie?”
I smile, listening to them talk, while Kaye shares her plans to “whip this hellscape into shape!”