Epilogue I
POOKIE
There's a camera crew.
Yeah, I know, surprising, right? Surprising there's still a show, and surprising any of us came back for another season after the disastrous reunion.
It took a few months before Mr. Pink was willing to negotiate, and then the process stalled because production wasn't willing to meet his terms—Talon had to go.
In show business, money talks. Every day Flaunt didn't renew Pink Stallionswas another day they were bleeding money. Ten million viewers is an insane pull these days, so they cut a deal and Talon was tossed to the curb.
As for how I ended up here, standing at the front of an altar in Las Vegas, well, like most things in life, it comes down to making good television.
Deep down, I don't know that Braxton and I are ready for marriage, but it makes one hell of a storyline for the second season premiere.
Jules pitched the idea, and Braxton took the bait immediately.
I needed to be sold a little bit harder than he did, but we settled on a figure that makes sense.
That's not to say I don't love him. I do.
Deeply. He's this ray of fucking sunshine that shines through the darkest winter nights.
He's loving and kind, generous and loyal, and an absolute fucking beast in the sheets.
Always willing to try new things. Always hungry for the next adventure.
He has this bad habit of waking me up early in the mornings when we don't have to be at work.
Someday, he claims, it won't be so easy to get out of bed.
Someday, he fears, we'll be old and brittle and won't be able to do the things we always wanted to do.
Even more fearful, he worries about the day his dick will stop working.
Sometimes, I feel as though my anxiety has rubbed off on him.
But also, I think this being-in-love thing is new to him, and he's terrified of losing it.
And now, I'm the terrified one, standing at the front of the altar in front of my friends.
My best man, Maverick, stands beside me, dressed in a black crop top with the words, 'Not the Groom'.
There weren't a lot of options to choose from when it came time to select who'd be standing beside me.
The people I work with are the only people I know. They're my only friends. My family.
Gunnar, Boone, Tamra, Avalon, Talon, and Jules are the only witnesses, which I guess is a lot of witnesses for a shotgun wedding in Vegas. They're all lined up next to each other on the bench closest to the altar.
Yeah, I know, Talon's presence raises eyebrows.
As it turns out, Braxton is a big fan of forgiving but never forgetting.
From his point of view, this magical day wouldn't be possible if it weren't for a piece of shit like Talon bringing the idea for the show to Mr. Pink in the first place.
And as Braxton says, you don't turn down a kiss from the devil, you embrace it.
It's another one of his idioms I'm not sure he understands himself, but they're cute in a himbo kind of way nonetheless.
Braxton is unlike anyone I've ever met in my life.
I think anyone who meets him would say the same.
When he first pitched crop tops, sweatpants, and sneakers as our wedding fits, I explained to him there was no way in hell that was happening.
Now, here I am dressed in a white crop top with 'Groom #1'printed on the front in pink.
And yeah, usually when you elope to Vegas for a shotgun wedding, you get married by some stranger in a debased chapel.
That's not fun, though. That's not entertaining.
So, instead, Mr. Pink stands behind me at the center of the altar, dressed as his alter ego Goldie Yawn.
True to the theme, he's wearing a top with the words 'Ordained Baddie'on it.
The music begins to play, announcing Braxton's imminent arrival. If I wasn't such an easygoing person, I'd probably be throwing a fit about the super-secret aisle song he picked out, which I'm hearing for the first time. Oopsby Yung Gravy.
I frown, but only for a moment, because when I see him twirl into the aisle, he lights up my whole damn world.
He's dressed in a similar fit—sneakers, sweats, and a white tee with 'Groom #2'printed on it.
Dixon guides him down the aisle, the both of them making a whole ass show of it, dancing to the music.
It's a completely unhinged song that has no place anywhere near a wedding, but it's such a Braxton song that it fills my heart.
And as he approaches the end of the aisle, Yung Gravy waxes poetic about someone's mama on his sack. The music cuts out abruptly as Braxton jumps up the steps to meet me where I stand.
"Welcome all," Mr. Pink greets the crowd, reading from a handwritten note.
"We are gathered here to wed Pookie and Braxton in marriage.
Now..." he chuckles, "I've been told to keep this as short as possible because, and I quote in the words of Braxton, 'We have places to be.
'So with that being said, I'm told that both of you have written vows you'd like to share.
" He winds his finger in a circle. "Please make it fast because I also have places to be. "
The small audience laughs quietly as Braxton takes my hands in his.
He expels a hot breath of air to steady himself.
His whole body is shaking, and I know it's not because of the cameras.
Rather, I think this is the first time in his life he's ever had to be vulnerable in front of people, and it terrifies him.
Now, I would argue that exposing your asshole to a horny crowd of gay men is the very definition of vulnerable. Braxton would disagree.
Feelings—that's vulnerability.
"I think my heart is beating in cursive," he says, lips trembling.
"It's all scribbled, and I can't make sense of it because they stopped teaching us how to write in tongues when we were kids.
" He squeezes my hand tighter and smiles, baring his teeth and his soul.
"I'm pretty fucking gay for you, and everyone seems to have figured that out before I did, but I think that's because they don't have all these conversations I have in my head.
It's easy to get lost, sometimes. But I'm never lost with you.
" He drops his head and shakes it. "I'm sorry for being mushy. "
He digs into his pocket and collects a wadded-up piece of paper that takes him a little too long to unfold.
"I promise to bottom for you once a year.
For sentimental reasons, I think we should mark our calendars for New Year's Eve, but I'm open to negotiations.
" His gaze shoots to mine and stays there, his cheeks flushing a cherry shade of red.
"Oh, that part was scribbled out." He shoves the paper back into his pocket and grimaces.
"Not that I don't mean it," he assures me tepidly.
"I just don't think everyone needed to hear that part. "
"Anyway, I think I've embarrassed us both enough.
"He clears his throat before continuing.
"The point is you're my favorite person.
You've been my favorite person since I first saw you in that dressing room.
See, the thing about love is you don't know what it is until you're in it.
I've never loved anyone before, and now I understand why.
It's because I hadn't met you." He pauses and breathes in sharply, a last-ditch effort to hold back the tears, but it's too late.
Little wet droplets rain down his cheeks.
"You saved me, Pookie. Not in the way people usually save each other.
I wasn't drowning, but life is a whole lot more swell when I'm swimming with you.
" He takes hold of my other hand and smiles just like he did the first time.
A memory that's seared into my mind. A memory, a smile, I'll cherish for the rest of my life.
"So what do you say, cowboy?" he asks, his words coming out a jittered mess. "Do you want to take this horse for a lifelong ride?"
I nod and mouth the words, I do.That's about all I can muster to keep myself from falling apart.
I was up all night last night writing vows, but they simply don't compare to Braxton's.
Still, I know my limits, and making shit up on the fly isn't in my wheelhouse.
I turn to Maverick and grab a neatly folded-up piece of paper.
When I'm face to face with my soon-to-be husband, I have to collect myself.
Even as I unfold my vows, there's this voice in the back of my head telling me to run.
That's what I've always done. Run, run, and run until I can't run anymore.
Over the course of the last year and a half, I've learned to stop listening.
I take a long inhale before beginning. "I know we're doing this backward, but I don't care.
I know you're supposed to know everything there is to know about someone before marrying them, but I love how you keep me on my toes.
" The paper shakes in my hands, my fingers rustling the edges.
"I like learning new things about you every day, and I hope I get to continue learning all about you for the rest of my life.
" There's a feeling of something lodged at the back of my throat.
Panic. Braxton's gaze meets mine, and he nods, gesturing it's okay, that I'm okay.
I clear my throat and close my eyes, counting backward from ten.
When I reach zero, I open my eyes, and the world feels a whole lot less heavy.
"It's not easy for me to be vulnerable, but it's a lot easier with you.
I spent my whole life in search of a home, and I found that home in you.
You're my pillow, my safe place, the place I can run to when all I want to do is run.
" I squint to ease the blurring in my eyes.
"I know we're doing this backward, but I love you to the moon, to Jupiter, to Pluto, and all the way back.
" I take his hands in mine, and it's unbelievable how just the touch of his flesh over mine steadies me.
"So tell me, cowboy, do you want to get this over with and get this party started? "
"I fucking do."
Maverick and Dixon approach us on either side, holding out rings to exchange.
I grab Braxton's first and slip it over his middle finger—he chose that finger because he said it'd be funny to flip off people with his wedding ring.
I rotate it until the engraved 'P'faces upward.
He then repeats the process, sliding the ring with his initial onto my finger.
"Cowboys, you may now kiss your man," Mr. Pink says.
And that's what I fucking do. I grab him by the back of the head, pull him in close, and kiss him in front of practically everyone we know. Not to be outdone, he scoops me into his arms and carries me away from the altar while announcing to everyone and the cameras, "Nobody come knocking tonight."