Chapter Twenty-Seven
DANIEL CRUMPLED to his knees too. To meet him where he was on the old hardwoods that didn’t judge how tattered they were as he gripped Aaron’s face, locking their gazes long enough and in enough silence for it to feel vibrational. Like he could see the space between them, defying physics. Like the molecules couldn’t compete with how close they needed to be, so they just disappeared.
“May I see it?” he whispered. “The ring. May I see it?”
Aaron stared for a moment longer, then blinked himself into motion. The metal, warm and heavy in his palm, felt different as he held it up, twisting it around in the light.
I love you. That was all the tiny inscription said. Written simply in a basic block font, it wasn’t fancy or wordy. I love you. It looked naked, even. Like something was missing.
But nothing was missing.
He smoothed a thumb over the tiny words as his vision blurred with tears. To Aaron, writing those three words inside a ring was like writing the rights to his soul. To Aaron, they were the most complicated three words to ever exist, and saying them meant more to him than most people could imagine. And yet he’d gone out of his way to make sure they were written. That they were at least spoken somewhere, even if it couldn’t be from his tongue.
The speckled flakes of icy blue that floated in Aaron’s eyes could tempt even the holiest of men to shed his skin, soften his resolve, and wade into their waters. No one else had eyes like that—a watercolor palette of frost, cobalt, and aquamarine, dense with pain and wild enough to look animated.
Behind them was a person so complex and beautiful that Daniel could spend a lifetime just learning more.
He crawled into Aaron’s lap, threading his arms around his shoulders. “Put the ring back on. ”
The watercolor palette sparkled with fire, and Aaron’s whole being suddenly buzzed, like a million blinking fireflies.
“Put it back on.” Daniel nodded. “I won’t take it off again.”
“Daniel Alexander Greene.” Aaron’s fingertips shook as he unlooped Daniel’s arms from around his shoulders to squeeze his hands. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” He wrinkled his nose and wiped at one merry little tear as Aaron slid the ring on his finger. “God, duh.”
Aaron chuckled. “Can I kiss you?”
“Mr. Silva, do not go losin’ your bite. You didn’t even ask permission before you knew my name.” He lowered his voice and whispered into Aaron’s mouth, “Don’t start now.”
They ignited where their lips met, hyped and hungry with exploration like they’d never tasted something so stirring. Like they couldn’t wait. Like it wasn’t blocks and blocks of running to get home where the institution of an apartment had transformed back into a home. The lights softer, hued in yellows, welcoming them into their bed where they undressed. Where they unraveled, the skin of Aaron’s bare chest hot beneath his fingertips.
“Can you say it?” Daniel fanned a sheet over them.
Aaron nodded. “I. I. L-l-love you.”
“You sure can,” he whispered, through a silly attempt to buffer some of the tears with his brow tensed and smile uncontrollable. He combed his hands through Aaron’s hair and kissed him over and over. “Can you say it again?”
Aaron cleared his throat. “I. L-love you, Daniel.”
“Say it again.”
“I l-love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
He asked and asked, and Aaron repeated until it poured from his lips through a proud and effortless smile. Tears wet his beautiful eyes and both of their faces—oh, who knew whose tears they were as the sheets cocooned around them, as comforting as the words they spoke.
Promises of hope in austerity, faith in disorder, and humor during chaos .
Promises of a bold creed: No. More. Mistakes. Then, okay, maybe patience for mistakes. Then, dammit, maybe grace for those mistakes made on purpose.
Promises of fully there and forever-with-you. “That you’ll have your space , that I’ll be so present .”
Promises of carnal pleasure and take-what-you-need. “What’s mine is yours, every inch of me, have it. Own my body, my mouth, my inside, my out.”
Promises all made just in time for the amber rays of a new day to coax them from the tangle of each other’s arms, from the tender little contracts spoken in a twilight of sleep and dreamlike kisses.
Promises all made in earnest, raw with imperfections. All real. All unified by three simple words.
“Say it again.”