Chapter 103
Nick
A Month Later
Before the earthquake, Tristan suggested that we take a vacation to Los Angeles together.
The earthquake delays these plans, but a month after the quake, when things have started to return to something like normalcy, we load up my car for a long weekend and drive down the PCH.
Sometimes, we talk while we drive. Other times, we sit in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company and the fact that we love each other and that we don’t need to say anything.
We don’t have a super rigid itinerary for Los Angeles—we arrive in the evening, check into our hotel, spend a lot of time christening the room with some very hot sex, and then order dinner in.
The next day, Tristan wakes me up relatively early.
“There’s something I want to do,” he says quietly, as we lie naked together in bed.
I could stare at him, lying there beside me, forever. He is so beautiful. The bruises and scrapes on his face have almost disappeared. His ribs have mostly healed. We’re just waiting for his ankle to heal and the boot to be taken off.
“What is it?” I ask, gently stroking his hair.
“I want to visit Warren’s grave,” he whispers. “And I’d love it if you came with me.”
? ? ?
The sky is bright and gray when we get to the cemetery, and Tristan stays close to me, needing some assistance as we walk through the grass to where Warren is buried.
We are silent as we pass the rows of graves—cemeteries invite reverence and respect, and we aren’t about to disturb these graves.
A simple headstone marks Warren’s grave.
As soon as Tristan sees it, he stiffens beside me. I slip my hand into his, lacing our fingers tightly together. He squeezes my hand once and nods.
“Do you want me to go with you, or do you want a moment by yourself?” I ask.
“Come with me?” He lowers his head. “I want to introduce you.”
I nod. “I would be honored.”
We are in no hurry. When we get to Warren’s grave, Tristan kneels carefully in front of it, laying the bouquet he brought with him.
“Hi, love,” he whispers.
Tears fill my eyes as I look at the love of my life kneeling there.
I cannot imagine the pain he went through when he lost Warren, and I am so beyond thankful that we found each other in his grief.
I am proud of him for how he worked through his grief, how he found himself, how he’s grown even stronger in the midst of his healing.
“I’d like you to meet someone,” Tristan continues, talking to the grave. “His name is Nick.”
I kneel beside Tristan.
“Warren,” Tristan continues, his voice trembling, “you were one of the most important people in my life. I loved you. I thought you loved me, too. Maybe you did, but I’ll be honest, you never really knew me.
Not the real me. You loved a version of me that you helped create.
You never got to know me authentically. Nick, though, has helped me find myself.
And he loves me for all that I am. Thank you, Warren, for the years that we shared.
I will always cherish them and cherish the memories I have of you. But I also need to let you go.”
He closes his eyes, bows his head.
There are tears on his cheeks, and he trembles slightly as I rub his back gently.
“Okay,” he says, after we stay like that for a long time. “I’m ready.”