by Eden Winters
Bo remained quiet for a few miles. “I’d like our family and friends to be there, but to be honest, all I really need is you and the kids.”
Lucky shuddered. “I dare you to try leaving Rett and Charlotte out.” They’d remind Bo and Lucky of the slight every chance they got.
“True.”
He wanted Walter there, and his parents, even if they barely spoke to each other. Maybe they could patch up their differences enough to celebrate Bo and Lucky’s big day. Bo’s aunt, uncle and brother should be there too, and Lucky’s nephews. Maybe a brother or two.
Bo stopped by a bakery, and Lucky ran in for the cake Charlotte ordered: chocolate cake with fudge frosting, and “Happy Retirement Walter” written in blue, with a rough drawing in yellow of Walter’s SNB badge. Perfect.
Few gifts, though. The work betting pool chipped in and bought a week’s cruise to the Bahamas for Walter and his wife.
Times changed. Bo the boss. Ty about to be a senior in high school, planning to join his brother at Clemson University once he graduated. Yeah, they’d definitely have to get the kid a car soon.
He still dated Keith’s daughter Chelsea. Good thing she was nothing like her father, whose asshole quotient kinda evened out over the years. He and Lucky weren’t friends, might never be, but they no longer seemed enemies.
Lucky held Bo’s hand the rest of the way home, and the community gate moved out of the way without giving them a hassle.
At last they turned down their street.
Cars lined either side, and covered nearly every inch of the front yard—a front yard he’d never coaxed into growing grass. Well, always next year.
Rett’s Jeep, Jimmy’s car, Lisa’s, and a few others. Lucky stepped out of the SUV and breathed in the faint hint of approaching summer in the air, and meat cooking on the grill behind the house. Already he made out voices.
This time Lucky didn’t freak out at the cars parked in his driveway, or the crowd waiting inside. This time, they weren’t there for him.
Cake eaten, Walter celebrated, now came the calm after the storm.
Lucky sat wrapped in Charlotte’s latest attempt at a crocheted blanket, Jenny a warm lump against his chest. He hadn’t been shot at in months, though mixed martial arts exercises with Jimmy’s brother left him a bit sore. Also, Vivienne needed to find someone else to practice on while instructing her new protégé, who’d recently joined undercover ops.
Bo sat in the next Adirondack chair, snuggling a sleeping Andro. Charlotte and Ty’s chairs sat empty—for now. Soon, they’d need to add two little chairs.
Keep this up and they’d need a bigger deck.
Moose snuffled lightly from his position between their two chairs where he’d squeezed his bulk. In the dim light Lucky couldn’t make out the shorter hair around his knife injury. Cat Lucky lay sprawled on the railing, for once not giving the neighbor’s beagle the evil eye through the fence.
Lucky reached out and laced his fingers with Bo’s, the warmth of his lover’s—soon to be his husband’s—hand a comfort.
A thousand stars lit up the night sky, and a few critters chirped and cheeped out in the grass he’d need to cut soon. Maybe he could convince some of it to migrate to the barren front yard.
He’d gone from loner to family man. The kids would grow up surrounded by love.
No one loved them more than the die-hard sonofabitch who’d terrorized the SNB for so long.
“What’s going to happen at Southwestern, you reckon?” he asked.
Bo squeezed Lucky’s fingers. “I’m not sure yet. I see a lot of meetings in my future while we figure things out. The internal affairs committee is cleaning house. Diaz would be facing some serious charges if he was still around.”
Another bastard who’d never meet Lady Justice’s wrath. He’d never woken up after being hit by a car, and Garrison remained missing. Every day it seemed someone else went to jail, all because of greed. Sometimes having job security sucked.
They sat in silence for a few moments more.
“Do you want a big wedding or a small, intimate one?” Bo asked.
Lucky didn’t need a wedding at all. Give him a marriage license and two “I dos”, and he’d be happy as a pig in mud. “I dunno. What you got in mind?”
“Well, first there’s premarital counseling with a priest, then maybe that fancy Catholic church up town. What do you think about Catechism classes?”
“What?”
“Learning to be good little Catholics.”
Was that required? He’d do it for Bo, but…
Bo chuckled. “I’m kidding. Though I figured giving you an extreme scenario would get you to make better suggestions.”
Lucky rolled ideas around in his head. “Charlotte and Rett are already talking about flowers, tuxes, and caterers.” Which made Lucky run screaming from the room.
“Not their wedding. This will be whatever you want. Whatever we want.”
Still, would Bo’s family, or Lucky’s, ever let them hear the end of it if they snuck off? So tempting to do the deed and not tell anyone.
Charlotte beamed while talking wedding details. If Lucky didn’t let her plan his, would she start planning her own?
Way too soon. She’d not even been dating Jimmy a year yet, had she? She’d just had a baby. Besides, she wouldn’t let anything derail her plans of finally, finally, becoming a nurse.
“Neither one of us are churchgoing types.” Though they’d at least christened Andro in the Catholic faith, at his mother’s request. Would a church even let Lucky in the door? Other than the christening, he’d not been to a building with a cross on top since his brother’s funeral—reason enough not to choose one to marry in.
“That doesn’t have to stop us. We can find a church and a minister if you want.” Bo would likely ask the pope himself to do the honors, if it’d make Lucky happy.
Um… no.
Where would they find a minister willing to marry two men in a predominately Southern Baptist region? Especially where acceptance of same sex marriage often didn’t extend to letting them in the door unless they were willing to denounce who they were.
Nope. No room for bitterness. “Let me think on it, okay?”
“No rush.”
They sat in silence, staring up at the sky. Bo, Lucky, and their little family. If anyone had told the Lucky from years ago that he’d wind up all domesticated, he might have shot them.
Now? Life couldn’t be more perfect. “What say we get the license and keep it handy, just in case the mood strikes?” Bo ventured.
A plan took shape in Lucky’s mind: him and Bo, riding off together on the Harley Davidson.
Jenny snuffled and burrowed closer to his chest.
Before they rode off into the sunset, they’d need to add a sidecar.
DOMESTICATION
(Diversion 9.1)
By Eden Winters
CHAPTER 1
Two determined women with plans invaded the sanctuary of Lucky’s living room.
And settled in to stay.
“What do you think of these daisies?” Charlotte sat on the couch and tossed a pamphlet to Lucky. “Simple, versatile, and moderately priced.”
Looked like flowers to him. Was there a difference in the flower on this brochure and the seven others spread out on the coffee table?
Jenny rocked back and forth on her hands and knees on the floor beside Charlotte, pouring all she had into blowing raspberries.
“C’mere, you!” Lucky scooped the baby up against his shoulder. She released a belch to do a trucker proud. Good one! Give her a few years and she’d beat Auntie Char in a burping contest. “That’s Papa’s little girl.”
Rett still held on to best friend honors, though she no longer partnered him at the SNB. Right now, though, she sat next to Charlotte on the couch and acted as co-conspirator to Lucky’s sister. “If you don’t like daisies, how about roses? Roses are nice, and come in so many colors.”
“Which reminds me. Wh
at colors have you and Bo decided on? I’m thinking a May wedding,” Charlotte said, more to Rett than to Lucky. “Spring. The air will be getting warm. We could even do an outside wedding. But we need to choose a venue and put a deposit down fast.”
Venue? Deposit?
No stopping her now with Charlotte on a roll. “Have you thought of where you’d like to go for your honeymoon?”
May? Seven months away? He’d have to wait seven months to marry Bo? “What do you suggest for a honeymoon?”
“Well, cruises are popular. That might be fun. A week of sunning on deck, getting away from it all.” A dreamy smile took up residence on her face. “Tropical drinks, exotic ports, shows. There’s even gambling if you want to try your hand.”
No, thank you. Lucky had gambled with his future and lost once. No gambling. Money wasted on gambling could be used to work on the house, or pay off his newly-acquired car loan. Well, except for the occasional office low-stakes betting pool, which earned him a lot of bragging rights. “I don’t think I’d like a cruise.” Out on the water, no land in sight? Packed in with a bunch of strangers? Nope. Definitely out of the question. “Where else?”
“Hawaii? I’d personally love to go to Paris.” Charlotte dug through the rain-forest endangering display of paper before her and produced another brochure.
“Oh, me too,” Rett gushed, taking the brochure from Charlotte’s hand and spreading it out on the coffee table. “I got to go there once while in college. I’d love to go back.”
Lucky suspected he knew what deer in the headlights felt like. “Hours and hours on an airplane?” Oh, hell no.
“The beach, the mountains?” Rett suggested. “A May wedding makes both a possibility. Lots of couples honeymoon in Gatlinburg, if you’re thinking something close by and relatively inexpensive.”
Lucky would have Bo all to himself. Did it really matter where they went when he had no intention of leaving the room?
“I’m having trouble finding a minister. The priest who did Bo’s mother’s funeral is, um… not open to the idea, and the preacher at Mom’s church won’t travel out of state.” Charlotte stage-whispered behind her hand, “Which I took to mean he wouldn’t marry a gay couple.”
“Why the hell not? It’s legal!” Rett snapped.
“It ain’t like I’m a regular church-goer. Bo either. Don’t take no minister to say the words.” Priest? Preacher? What was the woman thinking?
Flowers didn’t matter either. Or venues. The only important thing was getting Bo to say I do and peeling him out of his tux later. The mere thought of waiting until May brought on a cold sweat.
Wait. Tux? Oh. He glanced at the new coffee table they’d been forced to buy when some asshole broke into their home, tried to kidnap Charlotte, and ended up breaking their old one with his body when Charlotte knocked him on his ass. He’d learned his lesson about messing with Charlotte Lucklighter. The dark wood didn’t match the end tables, but Charlotte kept it too covered in magazines and brochures to tell. The women had spread out a bunch of magazines like “Modern Bride” and “Destination Wedding.”
Rett cocked her head to the side. “Why don’t they have magazines for grooms? Men like to get married too, right?”
“Because some people insist on clinging to outdated traditions. Now, blue handkerchiefs or white with their tuxes?” Charlotte asked.
For months Lucky and Bo had worn the bands he’d once intended as wedding rings. Now they’d finally fulfill their purpose. “As long as I get to put the ring on Bo’s hand for real, what do I care about handkerchiefs or anything else?” Two smiles fell. Oh, shit. They were having a grand ole time planning his and Bo’s wedding, and one thing he’d learned early on with these two: best to keep ‘em happy.
“What do you think?” Charlotte asked again, a bit more steel in her voice.
Think, Lucky, think! He recalled putting Andro down for his nap in his little blue onesie. “Blue is nice. Oh, do I hear Andro? And I need to go put this little lady down for her beauty rest.” He fled the living room with Jenny patting his head and drooling. What? Him running?
You betcha.
Tuxes, flowers, venues. Planning for months for a two-hour event.
This thing kept escalating, from “Let’s get married” to something they might need to take out a second mortgage for. More and more folks’ names wound up on invitation lists. Should he invite drug lords turned anti-trafficking agents, Nestor and Victor? Was there some kind of rule about inviting exes? Then again, would he piss them off by not inviting them?
They were not the kind of people he wanted to piss off.
Then again, they’d probably buy one hell of a wedding gift. Oh, what the fuck was he thinking?
So many questions! So few answers.
If only Bo weren’t so busy and could spend more time at home. Or maybe he planned meetings on weekends to avoid the discussions.
No, avoidance was Lucky’s method, not Bo’s. Why wasn’t he here? Bo excelled at planning. Maybe Lucky should shove the women in his life Bo’s way, leaving Lucky out of the whole shebang. Tell him where and when and what to wear—he’d be there.
He disappeared into the nursery and placed a yawning Jenny into her crib. Andro slept on. Good. Papa got a few minutes to himself since Charlotte and Rett were in the living room, and Ty and Rone were in the backyard, playing keep-away with Moose and a frisbee.
Why did weddings have to be such big deals? Wasn’t the whole point to say words, sign paperwork, and decide on last names?
Really. How could Charlotte picture him in a tux? He hated suits, hated dressing up, and never bothered to wear the official SNB uniform. Until recently, when his new boss insisted.
Okay, she’d crossed her arms over her chest, ran her gaze up and down his T-shirt and jeans clad body, and arched an eyebrow. A staring contest followed.
She’d won. If she hadn’t, Bo might find out and, well, not worth the price he’d have to pay in that case.
The bedroom door opened. “I’m in here,” he said softly. Please let it not be Charlotte. Or Rett. A man needed peace and quiet occasionally.
Bo opened the nursery door and peered inside. “Aww… They’re asleep.” He stepped up beside Lucky at Jenny’s crib, and glanced over at Andro too. “They are so precious. Have they been good?”
“Jenny was cranky earlier.” Lucky ran a finger over her brow. Her forehead bunched and smoothed out again. So like Bo. Then again, he saw a lot of Bo in Andro too, mostly because they both had dark hair and eyes, and both captured Lucky’s heart.
They also both had this way of giving him a look that said, “Boy, are you ever in trouble!”
Bo clapped Lucky’s shoulder. “Tell me the truth. You’re hiding from Charlotte and Rett, aren’t you? I saw them with wedding magazines.”
Lucky let out a sigh originating from his toes. “They keep making this wedding bigger and bigger, adding more and more people to the guest list.”
Bo’s brow furrowed. “You don’t want a big wedding?”
Lucky met Bo’s eyes. “All I need is you and the kids. My parents, Char and her boys, your aunt, uncle, and brother. Rett and Rone. The Smiths. Maybe Lisa. Oh, and we can’t forget Mrs. Griggs.” Lucky’s former landlady graduated from cat sitter to baby sitter, and she’d been a calming presence in his life from the moment he’d signed a lease agreement and moved into the empty side of her duplex years before he and Bo moved into their own home.
“A small wedding, then. Why don’t you tell them?”
Was Bo kidding? And risk getting shot? “Have you seen how happy they are, talking flowers and guest lists and caterers?”
“That doesn’t matter if it’s not what you want.” Bo shrugged and held his hands out to his sides.
Oh, those dark eyes Bo turned Lucky’s way. Even after years of exposure, Lucky could still fall into those eyes and stay lost for a week. “What do you want, Bo? This is your wedding too.”
Bo kissed Lucky’s nose. “As long as we
wind up married, that’s all that counts.”
“Exactly. But I’d break their hearts if I stopped them now.” Lucky had let his sister down too much in the past. Never again.
“Lucky.” Bo tutted. “They’re your sister and your best friend. They only want for you to be happy.”
Lucky snorted. “You’ve never seen Char chase me all over Hell and half of Georgia to whup my ass because I called her Talladega.”
“You were just kids then.”
“Kids? I’m talking about yesterday.”
Bo gave his head an exasperated shake, a small smile curving his lips. “This is an important day. Our day. It should be what we want.”
“Try telling Charlotte that. Give me a head start first.” Five minutes might put him out of his sister’s reach. After all, she didn’t run three times a week like Lucky did. Then again, he had a bum ankle. Come to think of it, better make it ten minutes.
Bo snugged up against Lucky’s back, holding him tight and rocking back and forth. “How about the date? When do you want to do this? With the babies, our jobs, and a case that may take forever to close, we haven’t really had time to talk about it.”
“Charlotte suggested May.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
“May is seven months away. I’d rather get married sooner.” Damn, that came out whiny.
“Really? Why? Afraid you’ll lose your nerve?” Bo’s words didn’t sound completely like a joke.
“It’s just the anticipation, and talking about flowers, and guest lists, and menus. I’m not sure I can handle two more weeks of that, let alone seven months.”
“Lucky, maybe we should sit down and talk to them.”
“No.”
“Would you rather attend a large wedding with lots of people that you don’t even want there?” Bo stopped swaying. “She’s not inviting people you don’t like, is she?”
“She plans to ask my brothers. We talk occasionally. If she invites them and they don’t come, will it upset her?” Would it upset me? went unsaid.
