by Lisa Lace
I bow my head. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“They say he’s told you not to come home. Is that true?”
I pull her toward me and wrap my arm around her. “It doesn’t matter.”
She pulls away from me, pressing her palms against my chest so she can hold me at arm’s length. “Of course, it matters. Why would you do that Henry? You told me it was money you had to spare.”
“And it’s true. I didn’t need a Rolex or BMW.”
“But—”
“No buts, Lissy. Being with you has made me realize there’s an awful lot I don’t need and only one thing I do.”
“What about your family?” Her expression is filled with guilt and remorse.
I don’t feel a shred of doubt. “It’s one thing if they won’t accept me as I am; it’s another if they won’t accept you. This was my choice, and I have no regrets.”
Melissa bows her head and starts to cry. Her tears roll down her cheeks and fall onto the knees of her jeans. She wipes them away from her face one after the other. “I’ve cost you everything.”
I reach out and stroke back her hair, tucking it behind her ear so I can see her face. Even when she’s crying, she’s beautiful. Everything about her is sincere and real. She wears her heart on her sleeve so she can more easily share it.
“The money doesn’t mean anything to me. My father’s mad now, but he’ll come around when I’m doing well for myself in the future. When I’ve proved him wrong, this will all be water under the bridge. You’ll see.”
“You didn’t have to do all this. No matter what happened with Connor, I would have always been yours. I never wanted to take anything from you.”
“And that’s why it was so easy to give.” I lean forward and take her face in my hands, lowering her head so I can kiss her hair. “You’ve taught me about self-respect and humility. I don’t want to live off my father’s fortunes anymore. I don’t want to get by on hanging onto his tailcoat. Getting rid of that money was the best thing I could have ever done. Now I don’t have an unfair head start. I can be my own man and take pride in what I accomplish. I wanted you to have it, Lissy. You deserve it, and I don’t. That’s all there is to it.”
She looks up at me with adoration. “Of course, you deserve it. After all you’ve done for me, you deserve the world. I wish I could repay you. I wish there was some way I could show you how much you mean to me.”
“I already know.”
Melissa bites down on her lip, looking up at me from under her long eyelashes, which are still wet with tears. “What will you do?”
“I have enough money to last me to the end of this academic year. When the lease ends on my apartment, I’m going to move into shared accommodations—something cheaper. To get through next year, I’ll apply for loans, scholarships and whatever else is out there to get me through. My grades aren’t bad; I might be eligible for some of them. And the rest of it—well, I’ll get a job like everyone else.”
Melissa blinks and more tears fall. “You had such a wonderful life and a road that was paved for you. You had all the time in the world to study, everything you needed to be comfortable, and you’ve given it all up for me. I’ll never forgive myself.”
Her distress is so sincerely adorable, I smile, then kiss her lips. “There’s nothing to forgive. This was my choice.”
“If I had never come into your life, you’d be on your way to heading back to England to a good life and a proud family.”
“If I had been happy in that life, I wouldn’t have been so determined to keep throwing away opportunities.” I hold her hands in earnest. “Here, with you, these opportunities have meaning. I want to do better. You work hard, you love selflessly, and, honestly, I don’t know what the hell you’re doing with a selfish, reckless idiot like me.
“I don’t want to be that guy anymore. When I’m with you, I want to work harder and be more selfless. I want to be worthy of the love you give me so openly. You make me a better man, Lissy. I love you.”
She throws herself into my arms, burying her face in my neck and squeezing me tightly. “I love you, too, Henry. More than anything.”
Melissa
My graduation. I’m finally here. After two long years in my MBA, I’m graduating with a 4.0 GPA, and I couldn’t be prouder. I had more to deal with than most over the last two years, but I didn’t let it hold me back. Mom would be proud.
Yesterday afternoon, I visited Connor in jail. He’s halfway through his two-year sentence and doing well. Now that he’s behind bars, he’s sober for the first time in a very long time and getting some therapy for his borderline personality disorder. He’s disappointed about not coming to my graduation, but overall, he’s doing a lot better.
Knowing jail hasn’t destroyed him allows me to smile today. Connor even told me he was proud of me.
I finish getting dressed in my tailored black dress and heels, the gown with a red sash, and finally, place my graduation cap on my head. I flick back the tassel with a grin as I stare at myself in the mirror.
The commencement exercise assembly starts at six-thirty a.m., and it’s already six. I hear the honk of a horn, pick up my purse, and rush outside to my waiting Lyft. Minutes later, I join my fellow students at the Chao Center, ready for the procession to Harvard Yard.
Looking around, all I can see are hundreds of gowns, caps, and sashes. It’s a sea of red, black, and smiling faces. People are laughing and taking pictures. I stand on my tiptoes to look around until I spot Henry in his place in the procession.
He catches my eye and grins widely, pointing to the cap on his head and giving me the thumbs up. I laugh and wiggle my hips in a celebratory dance.
The procession begins, and we head to Harvard Yard, the oldest part of the university campus. You can hardly see the grass under the sea of students, although if I look up, I can make out the tops of the libraries and Memorial Church. The ceremony itself will take place in the Tercentenary Theatre.
Guests of the students file into the theatre to view the ceremony. I watch them enter, dressed to the nines and beaming with pride, and, for a moment, I feel a twinge of sadness. There’s nobody here cheering me on.
That is until I look behind me and see Henry watching me from his place in the procession. When he catches me looking back, he gives the most genuine, warmest smile, and my heart fills with love. There’s nobody here for Henry either, but we have each other.
My MBA has been the achievement of a lifetime. My heart soars every time I think about how far I’ve come, but nothing, not even my top-class degree, makes me happier than knowing I’m loved by Henry. The last year with him has been the sweetest of my life. I love him so much.
We watch the commencement exercises in the theatre; then we’re moved again to Baker Lawn for the diploma ceremony.
Baker Lawn is an incredible riverfront expanse in front of Baker Library, which looms ahead of us like the White House with its six proud white columns and bell tower. There’s a stage for graduating students to accept their diplomas.
Soon, the ceremony begins, and we each take our turn to wait for our name to be called, followed by a round of applause from the audience. When my name is called, all I can focus on is trying not to fall over.
I smile as I head to collect my degree, but my smile turns to joyous laughter when I hear Henry whooping raucously over the clapping of the crowd.
When the diplomas are all awarded, the keynote speaker steps up, talking about building futures and making a difference. I let his words flow over me like honey, believing, for once, that all things are possible.
After a couple more hours of ceremonies, it’s finally time for the business school reception and my reunion with Henry.
When I find him on the Shad Tennis Courts, I run to him and throw my arms around him, spilling the drink in his hand. He laughs loudly, picks me up and spins me around until my cap falls off. We both howl with laughter and excitement.
“We did it!” I exclaim, the j
oy in my voice vibrant, as I squash my cap back down on my head. “We did it!”
“Yes,” Henry grins, squeezing me tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”
He places me back on my feet, and I stand on tiptoes to kiss him. “I’m proud of you, too.”
Henry has graduated with a 3.8 GPA, which was more than his father ever demanded of him.
I look at him with adoration. He looks so handsome in his cap and gown. I stare at the way the material drapes over his broad shoulders, and the way his blonde hair sticks out from under his cap with a boyish charm.
I twirl the tassle of his cap around my finger, pulling him closer to kiss him again. “You look so handsome.”
“And you look gorgeous. That red hood suits you.”
I turn around so I’m facing away from Henry and he wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. We look out together over all the other graduates and their guests with matching smiles.
I look up to him, having to take off my cap so I bend my head back. “What happens now?” I ask him. “Where do we go from here?”
Henry grabs my wrist and pulls to spin me around to face him again. He places his hands playfully on my hips and kisses me softly. “Well,” he answers slowly, “my student visa is up, so I’ll have to return to England for a while. I’ll need to apply for a new visa and save some money so I can fly back out. Then I’ll be all yours.”
“You know, with everything that happened with Connor last year, and your family, and everything—I reckon we’ve been through more together than most couples would have to face in a lifetime.”
“I reckon you’re right.”
“We got through it all, and now we’re stronger than ever.”
“Mm-hmm.” He nuzzles into my neck to kiss me, wondering where I’m going with this.
“If everything we’ve been through hasn’t shaken us, then nothing will.”
Henry catches my eye and smiles. “We’re meant for each other.”
“I think so, too. Which is why I have an idea.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” His voice is playful, but I’m deadly serious.
I clasp the lapel of his gown in my fists and stand on my tiptoes anxiously. “Marry me.”
Henry’s jaw drops, and then he chuckles. When he realizes I’m not joking, his eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. I love you. I want to be with you for a very long time. Marry me. Then, whether we choose England or America, we can stay together. No more worrying about visas. We’ll be married.”
“Is that really what you want?”
“More than anything. I adore you, Henry.”
“I adore you, too.”
“Is that a yes?”
Henry’s grin grows, and he tilts back his head to laugh with joy. “Yes. I will marry you.”
Three weeks after I ask Henry to marry me, he surprises me with a proposal on Baker Lawn. In front of the building where we accepted our diplomas, he gets down on one knee and pulls out a simple, inexpensive ring with a small, sweet diamond.
“Melissa,” he says, “from the moment I met you, you were someone I couldn’t get off my mind. As I’ve come to know you, I’ve realized that I was just scratching the surface of how incredible you are.
“You have more elegance and grace than any person I’ve ever met. In the face of hardship and adversity, you remain compassionate and loyal. When the odds are against you, you rise to every challenge.
“In you, I see all the best of human nature, and find a desire in myself to be a better man, so I can offer you just some of the endless love and kindness you give me in return.
“You asked me to marry you so we could stay together, and I’m proposing for the same reason. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I can’t imagine a future without you. Every time I imagine what happiness will look like in five, ten years’ time, you’re in the picture. I want to spend my life with you because you’re my soulmate. Nothing would make me happier than to be the husband of the most beautiful, selfless and kindest woman in the world.”
He holds up the ring. “Will you marry me?”
I say yes. We get married at the registry office, with only Lucy and Ryan to witness. As soon as we are husband and wife, we settle down and start building a life together.
From the moment we say “I do,” the job hunt and consequent saving for a deposit on a house begins.
Within three months of graduating, I land a managerial job at a small marketing firm, which pays well and is good experience for eventually taking the next step up the ladder to a larger company.
Henry wants his own business, starting a promotions company with his friend, Ryan. They scout for talent and produce comedy shows all over the state. It’s early but growing fast. The first few shows sell only tens of tickets, but soon hundreds of people are turning up for the latest events. Henry and Ryan eventually want to get their own chain of comedy venues.
He loves his work; he’s constantly pranking Ryan and loves nothing more than auditioning new acts. I should have known only Henry would find a way of making a career out of mischief.
But I’m proud of him. He’s making his own way in this world, and he keeps a smile on my face.
Only eight months after graduating, we have the money to buy our first home in Cambridge, Massachusetts. It’s small but beautiful. Our own little haven to share together.
After a long and painful struggle, we’ve finally found our family in each other, and we’re blissfully happy in a way I didn’t think could happen in real life. I know there will be more struggles ahead when Connor gets out of jail, and if and when Henry’s family ever comes back into our lives, but for now, everything is as it should be.
In spite of it all, we’ve made our own way—together.
Casual Sext
Cole
The newlyweds enter the reception at New York’s Midtown Loft and Terrace. The loft’s solid wood floors gleam under the lights of half a dozen chandeliers, and when the couple arrives, a string quartet begins to play. Waiters emerge from the sidelines like figurines on tracks, circling the room with champagne.
I try to stay out of sight on the sidelines, carefully watching each of the guests, waiting for something special to catch my eye.
The bride beams at everyone gathered around her. She wears a beautiful ivory gown with intricate beading and a never-ending train. Her long blond hair is twisted into sophisticated braids and curls that spill over her bare shoulders. She’s a vision.
As people throw confetti their way, she’s clutching onto her new husband’s hand. The pink-and-white paper settles in her hair. She looks ravishing. As they welcome the couple into the reception, joyful friends and family form a path of well-wishers for the newlyweds to walk down.
If the groom wasn’t a foot and a half shorter than the bride, it would be the perfect shot.
Every time I try to get a clear picture, his head is obscured by the bride’s voluminous veil and tiara. When I switch to the groom’s side of the shot, they look comically mismatched.
I step up onto a nearby chair to try some aerial shots, making the height difference less noticeable.
My assistant videographer, Dennis, circles around the pair as they begin their first dance. As he’s faced with the same dilemma, his eyebrows turn downward in frustration. He ducks up and down in circles around them. The first dance song drifts through the hall.
Ed Sheeran again. Everybody’s crazy for Ed Sheeran these days.
I step down from the chair and crouch to snap pictures from beneath the swirling couple. As the bride and groom waltz toward me, I take a step back—and I feel my cell crunch beneath my heel. It has fallen out my pocket. I can feel shards of loose glass in the heel of my dress shoe.
Fuck. Not again.
I don’t have time to inspect the damage and risk missing a single magical moment of the couple’s first dance. It’s my job to meticulously capture every admiring smile, every teary eye, and each
affectionate touch.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
Finally, Ed Sheeran’s tortuous crooning comes to an end, and the bride lowers herself to kiss the groom. I furiously take pictures while they’re the same height, then lower my camera for a moment.
Dennis appears at my side, watching back the last few minutes of his video footage, and shaking his head.
“I don’t think they’ve had that much trouble accounting for height differences since they made ‘The Hobbit.’”
I chuckle. “I think I got a couple of good ones in at the end there.”
“Did you see those heels she’s wearing? What in God’s name made her want to wear stilettos?”
“Don’t worry. We got some good shots of them sitting down earlier. There’s not much else we can do.”
I kneel down and pick up my cell. Broken—of course. I sigh and bounce the broken handset up and down in my palm.
Dennis frowns and raises his eyebrows. “Again?”
“I need to invest in a fanny pack.”
“Or get a phone thicker than a tissue.”
“It’s a good model.”
“Not when it’s broken in two.” He takes out his clunky Nokia and shows it to me smugly. “I’ve had it almost eleven years and counting. Indestructible.”
“I’m glad you have better taste in camcorders. Not sure you’d hold down this job for long with a VCR recorder on your shoulder.”
Not that I can talk. It’s going to be back to my backup cell until I can afford to replace this one. Again. Is it just me, or are paid invoices thin on the ground lately? It doesn’t help that I can tell this bride is going to be a pain in the ass.
“She had a twenty-one-item list of demands for today. ‘And if you don’t make it happen, you won’t see a dime.’”
“Bridezillas tend to cool off after the big day,” he reassures me.
“Let’s hope so.”
Dennis grins. “You’re going to struggle to keep up with Tinder without the proper equipment. You’re facing a dry patch, my friend.”
