Chapter Forty — Anyway #2
The ceremony began at five. Ronan stood beneath an old willow tree at the edge of the garden.
Elliot had chosen it. Apparently he liked the branches.
Ronan suspected he just enjoyed the drama.
Rows of simple chairs faced them. No enormous wedding.
No strangers. No press. Nothing public. Their lives had been public enough.
Claire sat in front wearing her fucking red dress.
Dylan beside her. Rebecca and Thomas opposite.
Bell. Vance. Dr. Bennett. A handful of friends Ronan had made during the five years Elliot was incarcerated.
That mattered too. Ronan had built a life.
Saint had once tried to convince him loving Elliot required reducing that life until nothing remained except Elliot. Ronan had nearly done it himself.
Then Bell had asked him the question he hated.
What does loving someone like Elliot without destroying yourself look like?
This. Apparently. A career. Friends. His own routines.
A home Elliot joined rather than consumed.
Arguments. Boundaries. Therapy. Family. Love occupying part of a life instead of swallowing the whole fucking thing.
Music began. Nothing dramatic. Thank God.
Elliot walked toward him with Rebecca. That had been his idea.
She cried the entire way. Naturally. Ronan watched Elliot.
The black suit. The ring from their engagement still on his finger.
The expression he wore. Not golden boy. Not perfect.
Not performing. Nervous. Happy. Maybe overwhelmed.
Real. He reached Ronan. Rebecca kissed his cheek. Then Ronan’s.
“If either of you makes me regret supporting this…”
Ronan smiled. “You’ll kill us?” Elliot stared at him. Rebecca did too. Wrong phrase. Ronan winced.
“Terrible wording.” Elliot started laughing.
Rebecca tried not to. Failed. “Just get married.” “Yes, ma’am.
” She sat. The officiant began. Ronan heard approximately half of it.
Elliot’s hand was in his. That was distracting.
No officer. No visitation timer. No glass.
Just warm fingers. Wedding bands waiting.
When it came time for vows, the officiant looked toward Ronan.
He had written something. Then rewritten it.
Then thrown it away. Elliot knew. Of course.
“You forgot your vows?” Elliot whispered.
“No.” “You did.” “I simplified.” “That sounds suspicious.” Ronan smiled.
Then looked at him. “I choose you.” Elliot stopped.
There. Three words. All they needed. Choice had been the battlefield of their entire fucking life together.
Saint tried to choose for Elliot. Elliot tried to choose for Ronan.
Ronan chose for Elliot. They had hurt each other doing it.
Controlled. Lied. Protected. Manipulated.
Then eventually learned. Love did not mean deciding what the other person became.
It meant standing beside them while they decided. Ronan squeezed his hand.
“I choose you knowing everything I know.” Elliot swallowed.
“I choose you knowing I’m probably still going to get angry.
” A tiny smile. “I choose you knowing you’ll piss me off.
” “Frequently.” People laughed. Ronan ignored them.
“And I choose you because I want to.” Elliot’s eyes went wet.
“That’s it.” Ronan smiled. “Your turn.” “You asshole.”
“Vows.” Elliot looked down. Breathed. Then back. “I spent most of my life thinking being loved depended on being the right thing for whoever was looking.”
Silence. Ronan’s chest tightened. “Good son.” Rebecca cried immediately.
Of course. “Good student. Good boyfriend.” Elliot looked at Ronan.
“Good boy.” That phrase. No longer poisoned.
Not anymore. “Then somebody taught me I didn’t have to pretend.
” Ronan knew he wasn't talking about Saint.
Not really. “And somebody else taught me that not pretending didn't mean I got to do whatever I wanted.”
Ronan almost smiled. Elliot did. “You are extremely annoying about boundaries.” “Thank you.” “Not a compliment.” “Continue.” People laughed again.
Elliot squeezed his hand. “You never told me I was innocent.” “No.” “Never told me what I did didn't matter.” “No.” “You just kept showing up.” Ronan swallowed. “Even when you were angry.” “Yes.” “Even when I couldn’t give you the answers you wanted.” “Yes.” “Even when staying was harder than leaving.” There.
Ronan’s eyes burned. Fuck. Elliot continued.
“So I choose you.” Simple. “Not because I need you to make me good.” Ronan’s chest tightened.
“Not because I need you to save me.” “No.” “And not because you belong to me.” There.
Old Elliot would have hated the sentence. This one smiled.
“I choose you because every day I get to make that choice.” Ronan stared.
“And I want to keep making it.” Silence.
Then Dylan sniffed loudly. Claire whispered: “Are you crying?” “No.” “You absolutely are.” “Shut up.” Elliot almost laughed.
The officiant smiled. “Rings.” Claire stood with them.
Of course she had them. She handed Ronan Elliot’s band. Then Elliot Ronan’s.
“Don’t lose these.” Elliot stared. “Helpful.” “I was kidnapped for this relationship. I’m allowed one instruction.”
Ronan laughed. “Fair.” Elliot did not argue. Growth. Ronan slid the ring onto Elliot’s finger. Elliot stared at it. Immediately. Ronan whispered:
“One.” Elliot looked up. “Fuck you.” Claire laughed. Then Elliot took Ronan’s hand. His fingers trembled. Less than they had the first time. Still. Ronan let him. The band slid into place. Elliot stared.
“Two,” Ronan whispered. “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.
” Elliot smiled. “No.” The officiant finished.
Words. Legalities. Names. Then: “You may kiss your husband.” Elliot didn't move.
Ronan frowned. “What?” “Husband.” There it was.
That look. Ronan laughed softly. “Husband.” Elliot kissed him.
Warm. Slow. No desperate claim. No proof.
No audience that mattered. Just them. Claire cheered obnoxiously.
Dylan joined. Rebecca sobbed. Thomas applauded. Bell looked like
he wanted plausible deniability for knowing any of them. Ronan smiled against Elliot’s mouth. Then Elliot’s teeth caught his lower lip. Barely. Ronan pulled away.
“Seriously?” Elliot looked innocent. Ronan stared. Golden boy. The expression survived. Unfortunately.
“Asshole.” “Husband.” That was worse. Better. Both.