Chapter Forty-Two
June
HOT SUN beats on Lewis’s head as he descends the stairs of the New York County Supreme Court building. His shoulder bumps Tad’s and the backs of their hands brush.
“That woman next to me wanted to take me out for a drink when I told her it’s my birthday,” Tad says, hooking his pinkie around Lewis’s.
Lewis curls his pinkie so it’s securely intertwined with Tad’s. “Was she buying? Maybe you should’ve gone.”
“Nah. She said ex-husbands weren’t allowed, and who else would I want to spend my birthday with than my ex-husband?”
They reach the bottom of the stone steps. Lewis takes the opportunity to tug Tad into a kiss. “You sure? You’re finally free.”
Tad barks a laugh. “Oh, am I?”
Lewis grins. “I mean, legally. Best birthday present ever, right? Our divorce hearing?”
“Can we have divorce-slash-birthday sex later?”
“Obviously.”
“Then yes,” Tad agrees. “Best birthday present ever.”
They filed the paperwork for the uncontested divorce the minute they hit the six-month mark. The summons was for June 17th—Tad’s thirtieth birthday. At the small party they had last weekend, Matthew joked he didn’t get his starter marriage over with before he turned thirty. Walt, visiting from Watertown, laughed harder than the joke deserved, which he does a lot around Matty. Lewis wonders if Walt maybe has a crush on Matty. Maybe Tad’s straight brother isn’t as straight as everyone thinks?
Lewis’s anxiety ticks down the checklist of things to fixate on today: getting to the courthouse on time. Not fucking up the divorce proceedings. Not saying something stupid that would make Tad realize he doesn’t want to be with this loser after all.
Now, he touches a hand to his jacket, making sure the little box is still safe inside the pocket. There’s a whole possibility tree of anxieties tied to that little box, but weirdly, they’re not freaking him out as much as he expected. Maybe it’s the beautiful day, maybe it’s because it’s Tad’s birthday, maybe it’s the fact that they got here together, helping each other through the hard parts. Or maybe it’s because of the way Tad looked at him when Lewis let slip those months ago in Watertown that he wanted to be with Tad in a year, or five, or ten.
Lewis has been in a lot of bad relationships. But he’s never had anyone look at him like that—like he hung not only the moon, but also the planets and stars around it.
Tad’s spinning his wedding ring around his finger right now, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I guess we should take them off,” he says. “Maybe it was weird to wear them all this time.”
“It’s romantic,” Lewis tells him with a wink. Tad rolls his eyes but leans into Lewis, bringing a whiff of gin and rose and spice and the barest hint of sweat, and it feels like it’s all just for Lewis. He has to be embarrassing for a second and bury his face in Tad’s neck, breathing deep and mumbling, “You smell good.”
Tad shivers with pleasure and rumbles inarticulately. “I brought one of those tiny bottles of cologne in case my flop sweat got overwhelming.”
“Mm, well, I love your flop sweat.”
“Gross.”
“Is it gross, or is it just really gay?”
“It can be really gay and still be gross.”
Laughing, Lewis kisses Tad’s neck and straightens. “I do need your wedding ring, actually.” Tad blinks, his mouth opening in an unverbalized question. “Just trust me,” Lewis adds.
One of Tad’s eyebrows quirks up. “If you’re quoting Aladdin , I believe the line is, ‘Do you trust me?’”
“ Wow , coming for me where it hurts, huh?” Lewis laughs.
Tad shrugs, grinning. “Guess I’m one of those catty ex-husbands.” But he twists his ring off his finger and places it in Lewis’s palm, where it’s joined by Lewis’s. An adorable furrow appears between Tad’s eyebrows as Lewis pockets the rings, which he has big plans for.
Lewis takes Tad’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Now that we’re divorced, let me take you on a first date. We never got to have one of those.”
As long as he lives, Lewis will never get tired of the pleased pink flush that rises into Tad’s cheeks at times like this. Sometimes, it’s really easy to see why Tad is so shy—his face hides absolutely nothing. If you’re looking, you always know what he’s feeling.
They walk away from the courthouse, hand in hand, Tad’s face still pink with happiness. “Did you do something?”
“Maaaaybe,” Lewis says innocently. The Lyft he called on the way out of the courthouse pulls up on the corner. “Your carriage awaits, my prince.”
The pink on Tad’s face deepens to red. “You’re the fairy-tale guy, not me.”
“Mm hm.” That may be true, but it hasn’t escaped Lewis’s notice that Tad seems to enjoy rom-coms, cheesy romances, and Disney movies almost as much as Lewis does. Plus—somehow it took Lewis months to discover this—Tad is a total sucker for queer Regency romance novels. “Sorry—do you prefer ‘my lord, the Viscount of Mimblemumbleshire, who was honorably discharged from His Majesty’s Army due to an injury received at Waterloo?’”
“Oh my god,” Tad says, now full-on red. “I’m never letting you read my books ever again.”
“I think he’s quite dashing.” Lewis sighs. “And yet I’m a commoner just trying to scrape by in a legally questionable way, and even though circumstances keep throwing the two of us together, I can’t imagine a way we’d ever fall in love.”
“Oh my god. ” Tad’s laughing now. “You know what, those poor Regency gays didn’t have it easy. There were way fewer tropes for them to work with!”
They hop in the Lyft, trying to think of what tropes the Regency gays had access to and holding hands across the seat. “I do, by the way,” Tad says. At Lewis’s questioning look, he adds, “Trust you. Obviously I trust you.”
Lewis squeezes his hand. The box in his jacket pocket feels like it’s glowing and like Tad’s definitely going to ask about it, but Lewis is apparently acting normal. So go him! It’s not like this is one of the biggest days of his life or anything, nothing to be absolutely losing his shit over.
With traffic, the drive to their destination takes about an hour. When they cross into the Bronx and get on the Bronx River Parkway, Tad’s face lights up. He doesn’t seem surprised when they’re dropped off at the main gate for the New York Botanical Garden.
As they scan their tickets at the entrance, Tad bounces on the balls of his feet. “Did you remember that I said the roses are at peak right now?”
“Yep.”
“And the perennial garden?”
God, it’s hard not to grab him and kiss his brains out right here, but there’s a line behind them, so Lewis restrains himself. Barely. “You said most people come for the roses, but you love the perennials because they’re not as showy, but you like how they’re survivors.” The adoring expression in Tad’s eyes destroys Lewis’s willpower and he pulls him in for a quick kiss. “I love listening to you talk about the things you love. And I love going places with you that make you smile like this.”
“I’m smiling like this because you make me happy.” Tad closes his eyes and turns his face up to the sun. “I never said stuff like that out loud before you.”
And that. Well, that takes any lingering doubts in Lewis’s mind about that little box in his pocket and blows them away like dandelion seeds.
They walk through the gardens as the golden sun angles lower, admiring the roses with the crowds first. Lewis can’t get over how many different shades of pink and red there are. Some of them make him want to sink into the color and swim in it, and the smell curls around them, reminding Lewis of Tad’s cologne.
Then they get to the Perennial Garden. It’s a riot of different colors and textures. There are flowers, plants, shrubs, trees, and the Haupt Conservatory rises behind the landscape in Victorian domed stateliness.
Tad points out phlox, thick purple clusters of flowers mobbed with butterflies, and tiny white Bowman’s root. Searing orange and red daylilies crowd each other for sun and Monk’s hood sways in the light breeze, its violet flowers fluttering their hoods.
Lewis really likes the balloon-flowers. “They really look like little balloons!” he says gleefully. Tad reels him in by his belt and puts an arm around him.
Eventually, they stroll into a shady section of the Perennial Garden and sit on a bench under the spreading branches of a leafy tree. Lewis puts an arm around Tad’s shoulders and Tad leans into him with a soft sigh of contentment. Above them, birds flit from branch to branch, singing. Lewis points. “Look. Cardinals.” Red feathers flash and Lewis tries not to be too proud of himself for knowing the duller, brown bird with the pink beak next to the bright scarlet one is the female. Maybe they’re a pair.
Tad smirks at him. “Are you turning into a bird person?”
“Well, I mean, one of us should be. If you’re the plant person, guess it has to be me.”
“For balance,” Tad says, echoing words Lewis said a lifetime ago, when the idea of being married to Tad was scary and they were two strangers-turned-husbands.
Lewis takes his hand and a calm certainty settles over him. He expected his heart to beat hard enough that nearby wildlife would hear it and flee, but if anything, it’s the opposite. His pulse slows and steadies. It’s time.
“Tad,” he says. Tad looks at him and Lewis reaches into his jacket pocket, closing his fingers around the box. It’s warm from his body heat. Its contents probably will be too. “Tad Pierce. You make me stupidly happy. Will you marry me?”
The box in his hand pops open with a creak. There’s an engagement ring inside, gleaming gold even in the shade.
A long silence goes by as Tad stares at the ring. It doesn’t faze Lewis. He’s probably the most confident new divorcé ever. There’s hardly anything in his life that he’s completely certain of. His feelings for Tad, though? Wanting to spend the rest of his life with this funny, smart, shy man who made Lewis re-fall in love with love?
Yeah. No question. He’s never been more sure of anything.
Finally, Tad raises his eyes. They’re wide, and the light catches and glints on the bright blue of his irises. Lewis could stare at them forever counting all the different colors in Tad’s eyes—cerulean and cornflower, sapphire and sea glass. He’s beautiful, and Lewis wants to spend forever giving him everything.
“But,” Tad says. He blinks, golden hour sunlight making the tips of his eyelashes glow rose gold. “But,” he tries again, “we just got divorced.”
“I know,” Lewis says. His chest is so full. “But I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. And you deserve to remember your wedding. You deserve to have all of it—the tux, the champagne, the cake. The vows. Whether it’s us and a few other people or a huge crowd—”
“Oh god no, I don’t want a huge crowd,” Tad says with a shudder.
The feeling in Lewis’s chest gets fuller and lighter, more shot through with gold. He takes Tad’s other hand. Tad slides his palm over Lewis’s. “You deserve to have a real wedding,” Lewis says. “And I do too. So what do you say? Will you marry me… again?”
Tad laughs helplessly and brings both of Lewis’s hands to his mouth, kissing one, then the other. His eyes squeeze shut and he holds Lewis’s fingers against his lips. “Yes,” he mumbles against Lewis’s skin. “Yes, of course, of course . A million people aren’t looking at us, are they?”
Lewis wants to jump up on the bench. He wants to dance and spin around and yell TAD JUST SAID HE’LL MARRY ME! But Tad, his lovely Tad, would hate being the center of attention like that, would hate all the eyes and phone cameras on him. That means Lewis would hate it too, because he’ll spend his whole goddamn life making sure Tad feels safe and comfortable.
“No one’s looking,” he assures Tad.
Tad grins wickedly and swings a leg over Lewis’s lap so he can straddle him, knees jammed into the back of the bench. “I can’t believe you proposed on my birthday. You’ve seen too many rom-coms.”
He leans down and kisses Lewis. The kiss tastes like green plants and fresh air and bright sun. It tastes like the beginning of an adventure. It tastes like home, and it tastes like forever.
They break apart slowly. Tad leans his forehead against Lewis’s and Lewis tips his face up. All he can see is blue eyes and a blur of freckles. “We’ll have a long engagement,” Lewis says.
Tad laughs and kisses him again.