Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Zeke
“You sure about this?” Charlie asks as we approach the marriage license bureau.
“Are you?” I throw back. When it comes to getting married, it’s not something I care about.
Charles is my forever, and no amount of ceremonial bullshit is going to change that.
Being married will cover us legally though, so here we are, sneaking away without telling a soul, planning to sign whatever we need to sign to make it official.
As long as I’m one hundred percent sure it’s what my man wants.
“Definitely.” Charles is smiling so hard I wouldn’t be surprised to see sunshine burst out of his ass. “With the way my family is a mess and our friends are spread out over the country, and your popularity at the moment and—”
“It’s a lot,” I cut in before he can run away with all the reasons why we’re doing this again.
“Yeah. Exactly. I think it’s important we’re covered, umm, legally. But having an actual wedding sounds stressful as hell and—”
“If we’re going to look at having kids one day, it’ll look better if we’re married.”
His expression softens, and he gets that look in his eyes that he always does when we talk babies.
In the future. The not-so-distant future.
I think I have one Olympics left in me, if I’m lucky, and from there, I’ll need to work out the next steps in my life.
One of those steps is for us to become dads.
We might not want the fancy wedding, but we do want a family complete with kiddies, especially seeing how amazing my man is with Robbie and Brandon’s little ones.
Smitten doesn’t come close to covering how he is with those two.
“Babies …” He goes all heart-eyed.
“Enough of that. It’s still a few years away yet.
” I throw my arm around his shoulders, and he cuddles into me.
Even without seeing his face, I know he’s still got that love-drunk expression he gets whenever he pictures having a kid running around.
I’m excited too, but Charlie is something else.
I’m glad we’re on the same page there, but even if we weren’t, there’s no way I could have denied him when he wants it so badly.
“Maybe that’s true,” he says. “But I’m making you my husband today.”
I chuckle. “We’re basically husbands already. You constantly steal the bedsheets, and we haven’t had sex in about a week.”
“You’ve been gone for a week,” he gasps, slapping my abs. “Asshole.”
“It still counts.”
“Being married is not going to make me take my hands off you. Fair warning.”
Some warning. Oh, no, my husband finds me crazy attractive and wants to fuck on the regular, how will I survive?
“That makes me want to marry you even more.”
He turns to press a kiss to my cheek as we push through the doors.
We have an appointment already to sign the wedding licenses, and then there’s a small ceremony to tie everything up in a bow. We could tailor things to suit our needs, and we were clear that we only wanted the bare basics. Say what we’ve gotta say, and then let’s move on. No family, no witnesses.
Just me and Charlie.
Exactly as we’re always going to be.
It’s awkward, walking into the office and signing everything in such a bureaucratic way. I know Charles wants to blurt that we’re here by choice and not for some kind of health insurance benefits or visa issues, but I’m proud of him for keeping his anxiousness inside.
This is no one’s business but our own.
And sure, the health insurance does have a little to do with it, but it’s not the main reason we’re here.
If we could guarantee that our relationship would be recognized everywhere without going to all this trouble, there’s no way we would have bothered.
But it won’t be, so we are, and it’s more out of petty defiance for our uncertain rights as a same-sex couple that’s forcing us into it.
“Okay, through here,” the man at the desk tells us, leading us toward a room off the side.
And fuck. The whole thing has been done up like an actual ceremony space. Dark and moody lighting, candles and flowers down either side of a white aisle, with an arch at the very end. It’s pretty and not at all what I was expecting when I said basic.
Though I guess the room is a standard setup, so we kind of have to go with it.
Charles clutches my hand, and I squeeze his back.
The officiant greets us and lets us know there are a few things we have to run over and terminology to agree to, and then we can sign the marriage certificate and be on our way.
I turn to look at Charlie, at his soft curls and sweet face and shrewd eyes. I let myself feel, just for a moment, everything he makes me feel, and it doesn’t matter how stupid or weird I think weddings are, I’ll go through anything stupid or weird that I need to. For him.
“Can I—” I cut in over the officiant, not even sure what I want to say but feeling like I have to say something.
He pauses with a nod, and Charles turns to me, confusion in his eyes.
“Chuck …” That gets a soft laugh from him. “I … we met over a decade ago. Isn’t that strange to think about? Just two punk-ass kids trying to be cool at college—”
“I never tried to be cool.”
That’s true. Charles has always been Charles.
“Maybe. But I thought you were cool anyway. All your blustering and rules and the way you’d go so pink when you were worked up …
it made me want to work you up, just so you’d yell at me again and I’d be infatuated all over.
And, yeah, that infatuation has passed now, and what I feel for you is deeper than I ever thought I could feel for anyone, but I just want you to know …
you’re my everything. It doesn’t matter where I travel to, or who I meet, or what I win, I’d give it all up just to have you. ”
His pretty blueish-green eyes go all shiny.
“Don’t cry.” I cup his cheek.
“But you’re being sweet.”
“I’m always sweet.”
“But this is wedding sweet.”
My smile softens, and I peck him on the nose. My voice lowers, just for him. “I’m the luckiest man in the world to call you mine, Charlie Levine. Parameters and all.”
“You’re an idiot,” he says as happy tears leak onto his face. “But you’re my idiot. And I’m going to keep you forever.”
I pull him to me, crashing his body with mine, as the officiant runs through the official lines. We both agree, grinning like idiots, and the second we’re declared husbands, I kiss him.
Mouth hot, tongue greedy, bending him back in my arms.
And I know people prefer for this to be a spectacle, to have photos for memories while family and friends cheer on, but this is us. A kiss burned into my memories. No performance. No event. No worrying about anyone other than the man in my arms.
He’s breathless when he pulls back. “Wow.”
“I love you. Husband.”
“I love you too.”