Chapter Forty — Anyway
ANYWAY
Claire wore red. Ronan knew she would. Elliot had known she would.
Rebecca had probably known before either of them.
Still, the second Claire stepped through the garden gate wearing a deep red dress and a smile that made it obvious she had chosen the color specifically to piss off the groom, Ronan started laughing. Claire pointed at him.
“Don’t.” “You promised him.” “I promised nothing.” “You said you’d consider another color.” “I considered it.” “And?” “Rejected.” Dylan appeared behind her in a dark suit, carrying two glasses of champagne.
“Her exact words were, and I quote, ‘If he survived prison, he can survive a dress.’”
Claire turned. “Traitor.” “You told me that in the car.” “You weren't supposed to repeat it.” Ronan took one of the glasses from Dylan. “You’re both terrible.” “Which is why we were invited,” Dylan said.
Ronan looked toward the house. “No. You were invited because Elliot has spent six years pretending he doesn't like you.”
Dylan smiled. “He loves me.” “Careful.” “Still jealous?” The voice came from behind Ronan. Every part of him recognized it before he turned. Elliot stood beneath the garden arch.
Black suit. White shirt. No tie. Of course.
His hair was slightly longer than it had been when he walked out a year ago.
Not college-long. Just enough that Ronan could already imagine Elliot complaining when the wind messed it up during photographs.
He looked good. Annoyingly good. Twenty-seven now.
One full year outside. One full year of supervised release.
One full year of therapy appointments, employment meetings, mandatory check-ins, paperwork, awkward introductions, occasional nightmares, family dinners, arguments about laundry, arguments about groceries, arguments about whether the ugly living-room rug was still ugly.
It was. Elliot refused to admit he secretly liked it now.
Some things required time. His gaze moved from Ronan to Dylan.
“Still jealous?” Dylan repeated. Elliot stared.
“Yes.” Dylan blinked. Ronan laughed. Claire looked delighted.
“You admit it now?” Elliot adjusted one cuff.
“Therapy.” Ronan nearly choked on his drink.
“That might be the nicest thing therapy has ever done for me.” Elliot looked at him.
“You're enjoying this.” “Immensely.” Dylan lifted his glass toward Elliot.
“Congratulations.” There was a time Elliot would have heard mockery.
Ronan saw the instinct flicker anyway. Then disappear.
“Thank you.” Dylan smiled. Real. No game.
That relationship had taken longer than most. Understandably.
Dylan knew Elliot had once considered killing him simply because Ronan had slept with him.
There was no neat way around that. No apology capable of making it small.
Dylan had never forgiven Elliot in the uncomplicated sense.
Maybe he never would. But he had agreed to coffee.
Then dinner. Then eventually showing up to annoy him at his wedding.
Progress came in weird fucking forms. Claire looked Elliot up and down.
“Well?” His eyes went to the dress. “No.” She smiled.
“I knew you’d love it.” “I specifically asked for literally any other color.” “You don’t control me.” Elliot looked toward Ronan. Ronan raised both hands. “Do not bring me into this.” Claire kissed Elliot’s cheek before he could move. For half a second, he froze. Then smiled.
“You look beautiful.” Claire blinked. Ronan did too. Dylan stared. Claire narrowed her eyes.
“What do you want?” “Nothing.” “You are absolutely planning something.” “I’m getting married in forty minutes.
” “So?” “So I have larger priorities.” Claire stared.
Then smiled slowly. “Therapy really is working.” “Fuck off.” “There he is.” Ronan laughed.
Elliot looked at him. And the entire garden disappeared.
Not literally. Rebecca was still shouting instructions somewhere near the chairs.
Thomas was helping a caterer carry boxes despite having been told five times that he was not employed by the venue.
Bell stood beside the drinks table already checking his watch like Elliot’s wedding was another hearing running late.
Vance had arrived twenty minutes early and was currently eating cake.
Before the ceremony. Again. Some traditions survived.
But when Elliot looked at Ronan, everything else softened around the edges.
One year. Ronan still got that look. Good.
He wanted it. Elliot crossed the distance between them.
“You ready?” Ronan stared. “No.” Elliot’s face fell slightly. Ronan smiled. “Thought you were supposed to panic first.” “Asshole.” “Yes.” Elliot’s mouth twitched. Then Ronan reached up and fixed the collar Elliot had already fixed twice.
“You look nervous.” “I’m not.”
“Liar.” “A little.” There. Ronan liked that answer.
“Why?” Elliot glanced toward the chairs.
Family. Friends. People who knew. That was the important part.
Nobody had been invited because they believed Elliot was innocent.
Nobody had been lied to. Rebecca knew. Thomas knew.
Claire knew. Dylan definitely knew. Bell had known before most. Vance had built half the case.
They had all arrived anyway. Elliot swallowed.
“Everyone’s looking.” Ronan’s chest tightened. Old Elliot would have loved that. Golden boy. Center of the room. Perfect smile. Perfect clothes. Perfect life. This Elliot looked like he wanted to hide behind Ronan. Ronan touched his wrist.
“Want to leave?” Elliot looked at him sharply.
“No.” “Then?” He exhaled. “I’m okay.” “Actually?” “Yes.” Ronan smiled.
“Good.” Elliot raised an eyebrow. “Allowed?” “Today? Definitely.” He smiled.
Then looked toward the garden gate. Another car arrived.
Rebecca immediately started waving. Elliot groaned.
“What?” “My therapist.” Ronan turned. “You invited Dr. Bennett?” “Mom did.” “That’s hilarious.” “No.” “You're getting married in front of your therapist.” “She has heard enough about you.” “Hopefully good things.” Elliot stared. Ronan laughed. “Mostly.”
“Ronan.” “I’m kidding.” “You’re not.” “No.” Elliot shook his head. Then Rebecca appeared. Already crying. Of course. She wore dark green. Elliot had chosen it. Not because it meant anything. Apparently. Ronan suspected otherwise. Rebecca stopped in front of them.
“Why are you both standing here?” Ronan looked around. “Waiting?” “You are not supposed to see each other yet.” Silence. Elliot looked at Ronan. Ronan looked at Elliot. Then both started laughing. Rebecca stared.
“What?” “We live together,” Ronan said. “I know.” “We woke up in the same bed.” “That isn't the point.” “I watched him get dressed,” Elliot added.
Rebecca closed her eyes. “I did not need that.” “Nothing happened.” “Still did not need it.” Ronan grinned.
She looked between them. “You two ruin everything.” “Genetics,” Elliot said.
Rebecca slapped his arm lightly. Elliot smiled.
Then she looked at her son. Really looked.
Her expression changed. Ronan saw Elliot brace.
Even after all this time. Rebecca touched his face.
“Look at you.” Elliot swallowed. “Mom.” “You’re getting married.” “Yes.” She started crying harder. “Oh my God.” “Please stop.” “I can’t.” “You’re ruining your makeup.” “I don’t care.” “You spent an hour on it.”
“Elliot.” Ronan stepped backward. This belonged to them. Rebecca noticed.
“No.” “What?” “You stay.” Ronan stopped.
Family. Still. She looked at both of them.
There had been months after the confession when Rebecca could barely speak to Elliot without crying.
Then anger. Then therapy together. Then arguments.
Then quieter grief. She had never pretended five murders were acceptable.
She had never stopped loving him either.
Saint would have hated her. Ronan liked that thought. Rebecca wiped beneath her eyes.
“I know today isn't about any of that.” Elliot’s face changed. “But I need to say something.” “Mom.” “Let me.” He went quiet. “I spent a long time thinking loving you meant I had failed to understand who you were.”
Elliot looked down. Ronan’s chest tightened. Rebecca continued.
“I thought maybe if I had known you better, I would have seen it.”
“No.” Elliot’s answer came immediately. Rebecca nodded.
“I know that now.” She took his hand. “I also thought being angry meant I was loving you incorrectly.” Elliot looked at her.
“It doesn’t.” “No.” A small smile. “Your therapist finally got that through my head.” Elliot laughed softly.
Rebecca squeezed his fingers. “I can love you and still hate what you did.” “Yes.” “I can be proud of what you've done since and still wish none of it had happened.”
“Yes.”
“And I can stand here today and be happy for you without pretending the past disappeared.”
Elliot’s eyes filled. Ronan looked away briefly. Rebecca pulled Elliot into a hug. He went immediately. No hesitation anymore. Progress.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you too.” Ronan heard it anyway. Then Rebecca grabbed him too. “Oh.” He got pulled into the hug. “Mom.” “I’m having a moment.” “Apparently we’re all having it.” “Shut up.” Ronan smiled against her shoulder. Fucked-up family. Still family. Good enough.