Headstrong Like Us

by Krista Ritchie

  I hold on, realizing this is completely off the cuff. Didn’t expect anything less.

  His gaze bores into me. “Well, I’ve been searching for you my entire life, and if someone told me that we’d been together before, in another time or place, I wouldn’t question them. I’ve longed for you before I even knew you, and now that I’ve found you, there’s not a single day I want to live without you.”

  I’m crying.

  He’s crying. “Your love is the most precious, valuable thing to me on the face of this fucking world, and I’ll love you today, tomorrow, and decades longer. When we’re old men and smiling about yesterdays, I’ll still love you and your pure heart and your good soul.”

  I nod a lot, our chests pressed close, rising together in heavy breath, and I barely hear Oscar tell us to exchange rings.

  Drenched, Farrow pushes back my sopping hair, and I’m a maple tree. Officially. Sap has become me. I push back his hair. I sniff a bit, I don’t know why—I’m already soaked with tears and rain.

  I pull the black tungsten band off my finger, the one I’ve been safekeeping. The one I’ve worn for almost a whole year.

  Farrow pulls the gray, grooved titanium band off his finger, the one he’s been safekeeping. The one he’s worn for almost a whole year.

  He’s faster and takes my shaking palm. He helps steady my hand. “This is yours, wolf scout.” His eyes are on me while I watch him slowly slide the warm band onto my finger. Rainwater beads up on the ring.

  My breath hitches, and I’m about to take his hand in mine. But he squeezes his left fingers in a fist first, trying to ease the quake. Seeing him emotional just amplifies my fucking emotions.

  I hold his left hand firmly. Steadying his fingers like he steadied mine. I wait a second. Just a second, and out loud, I say the words etched on the inside of the ring, “Dum spiro, spero.”

  He wipes his eyes with his right hand, overcome.

  Dum spiro, spero. While I breathe, I hope.

  I slip the black band on his tattooed finger, and as soon as I finish, Oscar declares, “By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband.”

  I don’t hear anything else.

  Farrow’s hand is on the back of my neck. Mine on his, and we unite in a soul-bearing kiss. All around us is clapping and lightning and thunder.

  And I’d like to think Plato was right. That in the beginning of time, it was Farrow and me, and we were once whole together. Our souls united. But like all humans, we were split down the middle. Separate halves wandering around this universe.

  We found each other.

  And finally, together, we became whole again.

  45

  FARROW HALE

  Maximoff, my husband, tries so hard to shove cake in my face, and he’s disappointed when I’m the one who smashes buttercream frosting at his lips.

  Mouth dropped, he cradles a slice of vanilla cake in his hand. Cake crumbs slide off his jaw.

  I smile and lick frosting off my thumb. “Can’t be first at everything, wolf scout.”

  Cameras are flashing around us. We’re the center of attention at the reception, and I’m okay with ignoring everyone right now. It’s just Maximoff and me.

  “Say that a little closer,” he eggs.

  My grin widens. I doubt I’ve stopped smiling since we kissed in the rain. The lighthouse is still in view from the cliffside restaurant, wooden overhangs and a few tents on the sundecks shield us and guests from the sprinkling rain, which falls lighter than before.

  The smell of fresh seafood, breakfast, and saltwater melds with the scent of hydrangeas and marigolds.

  I run my tongue over my bottom lip. “He wants me closer,” I tease.

  “Come here, man.” With his clean hand, he actually grabs hold of my black button-down and tugs me into his chest. Our knees thread, and he looks at my lips. “Open your mouth.”

  I’m near-laughter as I comply. Maximoff brings the slice of cake up to my lips and feeds the dessert to me. I’m mid-chew, sweet frosting destroying my taste buds, when he wipes his sticky fingers down my cheek.

  My smile bursts. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you.”

  Before I say anything else, I draw him into me and we kiss warmly. A cooing noise spreads around the restaurant and quickly reminds me that we’re still under a spotlight.

  Maximoff flushes a little, and I find a cloth napkin from the dessert table. Jane and Thatcher picked out the six-tier, towering cake, and honestly, it’s perfect.

  Every layer is a different flavor: banana nut, vanilla, chocolate, lemon, almond, and marble. Something for every guest, and that’s how Maximoff would want it: for everyone to be happy tonight.

  I wipe wolf scout’s jaw, making sure to get all the buttercream off. He’s only letting me do this because he has a napkin in his hand and rubs at my lips.

  “Good?” I ask, crumpling the napkin.

  Maximoff smiles. “You have no idea.”

  Our eyes dive into one another. I think I do.

  After all the thank yous and first dances, the sun begins to set as the rain lets up. Oranges bathe into the horizon and reflect off the rippling sea, and while Maximoff dances with his sisters and brother, I run into Oscar lounging on a sundeck chair and eating cake.

  He grins. “There’s that married motherfucker.”

  My lip quirks. I lean casually on the balcony and zero in on his nose. “Still haven’t taken out the hoop piercing?”

  “It’s growing on me—” He cuts himself off, staring down at the banana nut cake. “Ugh, don’t make eye contact.”

  I give him a look. And then I see why Oscar just morphed into a high school boy. Jack Highland saunters onto the sundeck, a Canon slung around his neck. He snaps a few candid photos of Ben and Beckett Cobalt and then drifts further away.

  A smile toys at my mouth. Oscar is acting strange as fuck, so I ask, “Care to share with the class?”

  He stabs his cake a few times. “I fucked up.”

  “You fucked up,” I repeat, dumbfounded. “How badly are we talking about?”

  “I asked Highland if I could kiss him.”

  My brows spike. Shit. “Oscar,” I say with a slight laugh.

  “He’s been flirting with me,” Oscar says heatedly. “And I’m not the only one who sees it.”

  “I’m guessing it went poorly.”

  “Not just poorly, bro. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.” He sets his plate on the arm of the lounge chair and wipes his fingers with a paper napkin. “Mostly because I should’ve just asked if I could give him a blowie like a fucking adult.”

  I laugh hard. My back to the sunset, light wraps around me.

  He shields the brightness with one hand and waves me on. “Keep it coming, I deserve it.”

  “No, I’m just wondering how in the hell that would’ve been less embarrassing.”

  “Being shot down for a kiss is like face-planting when you’re trying to accept a participation award. And it was legitimately awkward. You know what, he stared at me for a full-second like I spoke fucking Thebulan from Luna’s tentacle smut.”

  Donnelly hops up on the balcony railing. “That’s my favorite smut.”

  “Exactly.” Oscar gestures to him. “Where’d you come from?”

  “Bathroom.” Donnelly slips a cigarette behind his ear and gives me a rising smile. “Dr. Hale.” Feels good to hear my last name. “What are we talking ‘bout?” His South Philly accent is thick.

  I motion to Oscar.

  He sighs. “I asked Highland if I could kiss him, and I was rejected.”

  Donnelly nods. “At least you asked for consent.”

  Oscar blinks, deer-in-the-headlights. Reliving the embarrassment.

  Now I do feel badly. “Did Jack say anything to you?”

  “Yeah.” Oscar expels a heavier breath. “He said, thanks, but I’m straight.”

  I cringe.

  “Don’t even say it,” Oscar tells me.

  I�
�m going to say it. “I told you not to fall for a straight boy.”

  He lets out a rough sigh. “I had to give it a shot. He’s hot and he’s stolen three pieces of my wardrobe already.”

  “Yeah?” I frown.

  “Yeah, he’s got my bandana, my sweatshirt, and he borrowed my extra belt this morning.” He shakes his head. “You bet your ass when I can stare the guy in the eyes again, I’m collecting all that shit.” He touches his chest. “I could land just about anyone. I’m a ten, and I can’t keep doing this.” He’s frustrated.

  “It’ll be okay,” I tell him.

  Donnelly hops off the balcony and picks up the plate off the armrest. “Cake?” he offers to Oscar.

  We laugh.

  Oscar takes his plate back, eats a bite and eases against the lounge chair.

  Donnelly checks over his shoulder. “Guess what I heard in the bathroom?” He has a shit-eating grin.

  “Gossip,” Oscar guesses.

  “Some type of bullshit,” I chime in.

  “Yes and maybe.” He smirks at me. “I heard Tom Cobalt talking to Eliot about how you saved him in the bathroom at the bachelor party. And I don’t think he knew I came in, ‘cause he told his brother, Remember when I had a crush on Farrow growing up?”

  I choke on a laugh. “No.”

  “Yeah, Tom had a crush on you.”

  I make a slight cringe-face. Not sure what I feel.

  Oscar bursts out laughing. “Your face, Redford.”

  “I know I’m hot, but what?” I never noticed Tom Cobalt having a thing for me, but that’s most likely because I tend to not pick up underage crushing.

  Shit, Oscar and Donnelly don’t even know that Maximoff had a sixteen-year-old crush on me, and I find that teenage crush cute as fuck. Mostly because he hates when I mention it.

  “Guys look up to you,” Oscar tells me. “You can’t be that surprised.”

  I cross my arm loosely, his words reminding me of something, and I fall more serious. “I got another offer to be on the cover for Out Loud Magazine.”

  He licks icing off his thumb. “How’d you turn them down this time?”

  “I didn’t,” I say easily. “I’m taking the offer.”

  Surprise parts his lips. “Really?”

  Donnelly grins beside me.

  “Yeah.” I nod strongly. “And I told Maximoff that I want to air the wedding on the docuseries.”

  He was already ready and willing. I was the only one holding back.

  The world will see us walk down the aisle and say our vows in the rain. No blurry drone images or shit sound quality. The public will have the full, real deal.

  Oscar is stunned silent.

  I smile.

  The most freeing feeling is being able to live my life authentically and proudly. With no fucking compromise.

  Stepping into this bright spotlight has been gradual. Starting from the moment I became a bodyguard, to dating Maximoff and being doxxed, to then joining the docuseries, and now all of a sudden, I wanted to step out of the light.

  It’s honestly made me more uncomfortable to shy away. Maximoff constantly runs towards his fears, and I’d rather Ripley see me racing into them at full-speed too. No skirting around or pulling into shadows.

  “You’re not joking?” Oscar asks, just to be sure.

  My smile stretches. “I’m going to be proudly, uncompromisingly me no matter what the hell I do or where the fuck I go, so I might as well do it in the spotlight. All-in.”

  The only thing that was stopping me was fear. And that’s not a good enough reason to slam on the brakes.

  The world already sees Maximoff and me as the “it” couple, and if people want us to be the “it” gay couple, needing to see me on magazine covers and our wedding on TV, then I’ll embrace that entirely. Underneath the brightest light in the world.

  With no fucking compromise.

  Oscar nods to me, pride in his eyes.

  I nod back.

  Seriousness recedes, and he tells me, “We should lay off Tom. If I was his age and didn’t know your personality flaws consisted of the inability to share food and assholishness, I might’ve had a partial crush on you too.”

  Donnelly laughs.

  I smile. “I’ve, for sure, given you granola bars that I’ve packed for myself, Oliveira. Remind me not to next time.”

  Oscar grins. “Already forgotten to remind you.” His gaze veers. “Husband’s coming over.”

  Sure enough, Maximoff ambles his way to us, carrying our sleeping baby in his arms. Ripley snores against his chest. “Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt—”

  “You’re not,” I tell him.

  He nods, then looks down. “Rip is out, and my parents are headed back to the villas. They’re going to take him so he can get some sleep.”

  It’s time to say goodbye to our son, and it’s still never that easy. Not even when I know I’ll see the little man again tomorrow.

  But tonight, it’s just going to be Maximoff and me.

  46

  FARROW HALE

  I display the keycard between two fingers, a strap to an overnight duffel on my shoulder. “How about you—”

  Maximoff tries to steal the keycard.

  I hoist it higher, smiling. “Turns out, nine hours of marriage hasn’t made you more patient.”

  His chest pushes up against mine, our eyes consume one another and Maximoff swipes the card out of my hand too easily. “Turns out, marriage hasn’t made you any taller.”

  Red-hot desire throbs my cock. My eyes drip down his toned swimmer’s build, still dressed in what he wore at the ceremony: black slacks and a white button-down. I look back up at him. He must catch my amusement.

  “Don’t say it.”

  Now I definitely am. I lift my brows. “I’m still an inch taller than you.”

  “Didn’t notice.” Maximoff goes to open the luxury suite, but I put a hand over the door scanner. Security is guarding the perimeter of the cliffside hotel tonight, but out of instinct, I scan the hall in my peripheral. No movement, no other people.

  I return to what I was about to mention, but I rephrase it a little bit.

  “Before you open the door,” I tell my husband, “you’re going to have to get in my arms.”

  He blinks.

  “I made him come already,” I tease.

  Maximoff blinks harder into a glare. “Not even close.” He gestures to his head. “I’m just trying to process why you think you’re the one carrying me through the threshold. In every scenario I can think of, I’m always carrying you.”

  “Every scenario?” I tilt my head. “You must not be thinking hard enough, wolf scout.” I bend down and lift him under the legs.

  He barely lets me hook my arms underneath his thighs before he slips out of the hold and tries to go for my legs. His effort leaves the keycard vulnerable in his grip, and I steal it back.

  “Fuck,” Maximoff curses, smiling.

  In one swift movement, I unlock the suite and kick the door open. I turn to lift him, and he tries to hoist me up at the thighs—we stumble and fall into the suite together.

  The heavy door bangs shut behind us, and Maximoff lands on top of me.

  Shit. I have a fistful of his shirt while his hands plant on either side of my shoulders. We breathe hard, and I feel his chest rise and fall against me.

  Maximoff lifts a hand, a red rose petal stuck to his palm. “What…?” He intakes a staggered breath. His forest-greens melt over the roses sprinkled across the marbled floor and handfuls of lit candles flickering all around the suite.

  Around us.

  “Surprise,” I say with a rising smile. His firsts are special to me, and this is a first we’re both sharing together. First night as a married couple.

  He looks from me to the flowers and candles, like he’s still in a fucking dream. And I’m the dreamlike thing that has awoken and given him an unbelievable reality.

  Chock-full of romantic clichés. Typical, ordinary shit that
he’s missed until me. His first boyfriend, first love, first and only husband.

  I’ve ached to give Maximoff Hale everything he’s ever missed, and I love that I can and will give him these cliché days and nights and minutes for the rest of our lives. This isn’t even the first time I’ve surprised him with roses. Our first Valentine’s Day was during the FanCon tour, and I had flowers sent to our room at a hotel pit stop.

  His reaction is just as powerful now as it was then, and that knocks me over. And fuck, I’m already on the floor.

  “Look at the bed, Farrow,” Maximoff breathes.

  I frown and prop myself on my elbows for a better view. Craning my neck, I see something on the king-sized bed that I didn’t request from the hotel concierge.

  A card rests on the taupe-hued comforter, along with a bronze tray of chocolate-covered strawberries. He had this sent to the suite. My eyes burn. “You weren’t afraid that I’d tease you for doing a really fucking cheesy thing?”

  “No, I knew you’d tease the fuck out of me for eternity, but I wanted to anyway.”

  I cup his jaw and kiss him lightly. “So what’s in the card? Did you profess your undying devotion to me? Doodle us making love and add little glitter hearts?”

  He grimaces, his neck reddened. “And now I’m rethinking that cheesy goddamn thing.”

  “That’s too bad because I really want to read that cheesy goddamn thing.” I push him off me, before he decides to flush the card down the toilet. We rise to our feet, slipping off straps of our duffels.

  I glide my hand down his muscular back as I walk around him to the bed.

  “It’s not that serious or that long,” Maximoff warns me.

  I smile. “Are you trying to throw me a life jacket before I read your card?”

  “Not a life jacket,” he combats. “A flashlight.”

  I pluck the card. “And here, I thought I was your lamppost.”

  “Flickering out lamppost.”

  My deep laugh rumbles my chest. I pluck the perched card off the bed and flip it open. Eraser marks smudge paper, and I can tell he retraced the pencil that exists with ballpoint pen.