57. Re-Roll For Vows #2
The joke disappears from his face so quickly that I almost regret teasing him first.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Clay's my man of honor.”
Dex's eyebrows shoot up. “That title is incredible.”
“And you can stand with me too.”
His expression goes soft in a way that reminds me how much of Dex's personality is deliberately built to hide exactly this reaction.
“Dollface.”
“Don't make me regret it.”
He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I won't.”
Mostly, I believe him.
I turn toward Griffin. “Who are you putting on your side?”
His answer comes without much thought.
“Ronan and Micah.”
Ronan's pen stops moving.
Micah looks up.
There is more history in that arrangement than the simple symmetry of two people on each side.
Ronan and Griffin were friends and roommates long before I walked into this house and rearranged everyone's emotional furniture.
Micah has quietly been part of the structure holding all of us together for almost as long.
Griffin looks at Ronan first. “You good with that?”
Ronan's expression does something small and complicated before he nods. “Yeah.”
Then, because apparently sincerity has a maximum allowable duration in this house, he adds, “If you're expecting a traditional best-man speech, however, I recommend reconsidering.”
Griffin smiles. “Wasn't planning on one.”
Dex leans back and studies the imaginary lineup. “So we're symmetrical.”
And suddenly I can see that too.
Clay and Dex beside me.
Ronan and Micah beside Griffin.
Nobody hidden. Nobody awkwardly demoted to close friend because explaining the truth would make somebody's aunt uncomfortable.
The ceremony would be about Griffin and me because it is our marriage we're celebrating.
That doesn't mean the rest of our family disappears for the day.
Warmth spreads through my chest.
Then my brain supplies the obvious missing people.
“My parents.”
The table quiets.
Griffin's hand finds my thigh beneath it almost immediately. “You don't have to decide that right now.”
“I think I already did.”
That is the problem.
They were hurt when they found out I had gotten married without telling them, and as messy as everything surrounding that conversation became, that particular hurt wasn't unreasonable.
There had been no wedding the first time. No ceremony. Nothing to invite them to.
Just paperwork, thirty dollars, and a decision I made because my insulin pump did not give a shit about conventional romance.
But this time there is something to invite them to.
If I don't, that's different.
I pick up my phone.
Dex looks alarmed. “Right now?”
“If I wait, I'll build this into a whole thing.”
Ronan lifts one eyebrow. “It is already somewhat of a whole thing.”
“Thank you for your support.”
I call before I can decide I'd rather wrestle an alligator.
She answers on the fourth ring.
“Hi, honey.” The word still feels slightly strange.
“Hey, Mom. Is Dad around?”
There's a short pause. “Yes. Everything okay?”
“Everything's good. Can you put me on speaker?”
Movement rustles through the phone, followed by Dad's voice.
“Cam?”
“Hi.”
“What happened?”
I close my eyes briefly. “Why does everyone think something happened?”
“Because you called both of us.”
Griffin's thumb moves once against my leg.
I breathe in. “Griffin proposed.”
Silence.
Mom speaks first. “What?”
I glance at Griffin, whose mouth is twitching because he knows exactly how stupid this sounds without context.
“We know we're already married. He has not suffered some kind of neurological event. He asked me if I'd marry him again. With an actual wedding this time.”
Mom makes a small sound.
“Oh.”
There is enough emotion packed into that one syllable that my throat tightens.
Dad is quieter. “You said yes?”
“Yeah.”
Griffin catches my free hand and threads our fingers together.
“I did.”
I can hear Mom trying not to cry.
Which, naturally, makes my own eyes start burning.
Apparently there is no dignity left anywhere in this family.
“We're keeping it small,” I continue. “We really haven't planned much yet.”
“We'd like to be there,” Dad says.
The speed of the answer catches me off guard.
“I know.”
“No.” His voice firms. “I mean it, Cam. We were hurt that we didn't know you were married the first time.”
“I know.”
“And I understand why it happened the way it did.”
I stop breathing for a second.
It is not an apology.
It is also considerably more acknowledgment than I've gotten from him before.
“Okay.”
Mom clears her throat. “Do you want help?”
There are probably a hundred versions of this conversation I imagined where she asks about Griffin first, or whether the other men are still involved, or whether this means my life is finally becoming more normal.
Instead, she asks if I want help.
“Maybe.”
“With a dress?”
I laugh quietly. “I don't even know if I'm wearing a traditional wedding dress.”
There's a tiny pause that sounds suspiciously like disappointment.
Then she says, “Okay.”
Another breath.
“Whatever you want.”
That lands harder than it should.
Maybe because whatever you want has not historically been the easiest sentence for my family.
“There is one thing I need to be really clear about.”
Griffin looks at me.
So do Ronan, Micah, and Dex.
I meet each of their eyes before I continue.
“Ronan, Micah, and Dex are part of this. Clay is standing with me, and Dex will too. Ronan and Micah are standing with Griffin.”
The silence on the phone lasts longer this time.
Not angry.
Just processing.
Mom exhales.
Dad answers first. “Okay.”
I wait.
He does too, apparently realizing one word isn't going to be enough.
“I don't understand all of it.”
“I know.”
“And I'm probably not going to pretend I suddenly do by summer.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. “Fair.”
“But they're important to you.”
“Yes.”
“And Griffin?”
I look at my husband.
He gives me a small, certain nod.
“He wants them there too.”
Dad is quiet another moment.
“Then that's the wedding.”
My throat closes completely.
There it is.
Not approval of every part of my life.
Not some miraculous ideological conversion where my parents wake up and announce they've read three books on ethical nonmonogamy.
Just respect.
They don't have to want my life.
They have to stop treating the parts they don't understand like they're temporary mistakes waiting to disappear.
Mom's voice comes softer through the phone. “Can I still help?”
I wipe at my cheek. “Yeah, Mom.”
“And your father would like to know if he's allowed to walk you down the aisle, but he's pretending he didn't ask me to ask.”
Dad mutters something under his breath.
I laugh hard enough that the tears finally spill.
“Yeah. He can.”
“All right,” he says, and now he sounds suspiciously rough too.
When we hang up, I sit there for a second staring at my phone.
Nothing is fixed.
Maybe that's why it feels real.
Nobody apologized for every shitty thing we've done to each other. Nobody promised never to struggle again. My parents still don't particularly like the fact that their daughter is in love with four men.
But they want to come to my wedding.
They know exactly who will be standing beside us when they do.
And they are coming anyway.
Griffin pulls me sideways against him before I can decide whether I'm going to cry more.
I let him.
Across the table, Dex is wiping underneath one eye.
I point at him. “Are you crying?”
“No.”
“You absolutely are.”
“Weddings are emotionally manipulative.”
Micah wraps an arm around his shoulders, and Dex immediately leans into him despite apparently not crying.
“What about your sister?” Griffin asks.
“That’s a problem for another day,” I answer with a laugh.
Ronan glances down at the notebook.
Then back at me.
“So. Summer.”
I laugh into Griffin's shoulder. “Summer.”
His mouth brushes my hair.
My left hand is resting against his chest, and the sapphire catches a stripe of morning light coming through the kitchen window.
The first time I married Griffin, I didn't want a ring because I didn't want either of us pretending our marriage was something it wasn't.
I didn't want a ceremony because there was nothing to celebrate yet.
We were solving a problem.
I would still make that choice.
So would he.
This time, there is no problem to solve.
I know exactly what I'm choosing.
And, maybe more importantly, I know choosing Griffin doesn't require me to unchoose anyone else.
That feels worth celebrating.