Taking You Home

by Cooper Davis

  “The truth?” Max asks, his whole body growing visibly tense. For a brief moment, I fear that this peace summit is about to tank in the worst possible way. Until his dad gazes nakedly at his son, and says, “I knew you were gay when you were seventeen, son. It was obvious. You and I both knew it then.”

  For a moment, nobody speaks and I hold my breath. Literally. Because I can’t believe his dad’s just alluded to the whole cross-dressing fiasco, not now of all times. I think Phillip might be holding his breath, too, until Max almost whispers, “Dad, I tried to be straight for so long because I wanted you to love me.”

  “But I always loved you, son. Always. I just failed you, that’s all.”

  Neither of them says a word for a long moment; they just kind of eye one another cautiously, emotion running between the three of us at a fever pitch. “But I never gave up on you, Dad,” Max says. “And you’re here now.”

  “Yes, I’m here now.”

  “And that means we need to figure out where you’re going to sit!” Max suddenly cries, walking toward the window. “Nobody even knows you’re here. Where’s Mom? We need to talk to Leah.” I can tell that a critical gear has shifted in my lover’s mind, and ever his sister’s twin, he’s launching into mini-wedding nazi mode.

  “Actually, they do know we’re here. Veronica’s the one who told me where to go,” Phillip says.

  “Which would explain why she sent me up here, too,” Max finishes, as realization dawns for all three of us.

  “Yeah, well she’s a sneaky-assed devil, always has been,” I laugh. “Which makes her the perfect ‘best person’ for me.”

  With that pronouncement, the three of us arrive at a plan, one that will restructure the seating arrangements and even the service itself.

  Blessed wedding day, coming off just like the dream I’ve always imagined. Funny, but watching Maxwell laugh with his father there by the window, glowing beneath his father’s approval and acceptance, I realize that this reality is even better than the dreams I’ve held all these months.

  Maybe dreams are just like that sometimes; fantastic, but a dim reflection of true possibility.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Of course the music Max chose for this processional is the total bomb, some Mendelssohn piece he played at least a dozen times around our apartment. Yeah, so I’ll focus on that random fact in an effort to keep myself together because so far I’m on shaky ground here. Especially since right before Veronica and I started this long march down the gauntlet, she whispered in my ear, “I love you, Hunter. You’re such a good man, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see Max spend his life with than you.”

  Great, she said that and of course I couldn’t even talk, the emotions were that intense. Instead, I just mumbled something incoherent, staring down the flower-lined garden path at my fiancé, and Veronica laughed as we took our first steps together. Talk about good men, there’s one staring right at me now from that gazebo. For months neither of us could decide who should go first, so finally I told Max that I’d take the usual bridal position, just to shake things up.

  Our friends and families line both sides of the aisle, not too many people, but definitely the critical ones. From the periphery of my vision I see Aunt Edna, her hands clutched expectantly at her throat, beaming like a mother. On the other side, Phillip and Diane watch our procession with obvious pride. But even though I’m aware of them, along with Leah and John, the Carters, Ben and his parents, and everyone else gathered here today, I don’t look. I don’t even glance sideways at Louisa, standing there right beside my gorgeous groom.

  I only have eyes for one person in this garden, and he’s gazing right back at me.

  Across this small distance, our eyes are locked in a lovers’ dance. Nothing has prepared me for how breathtakingly handsome he is, not even my sneak peek at his full ensemble from the window up above. There’s a smile spread across his face that makes my heart turn crazy back flips, as finally I reach his side. Veronica pats my arm, stepping apart from me, and taking her position to my left. Max and I stand together, staring up into Reverend Donnelly’s kind eyes.

  Then quiet, so nobody can hear, Max murmurs, “I love you, Hunter.”

  “Me, too,” I whisper under my breath, as the reverend begins the show.

  We’ve made it through the spiritual side of things, the reflections on the mystery of joining like we are. We’ve heard the word of God, that “there is nothing love cannot face; there is no limit to its faith, its hope, and its endurance”. A scripture that seems particularly apt today, as we embark on this unusual marriage of ours—especially since Phillip Daniels was the one who read it.

  We’ve even made it through Veronica’s song, the old Fleetwood Mac tune, Landslide, which Max asked her to sing as a surprise for me. Yeah, boy, I was surprised all right, when Ben stepped up and grasped his guitar, and Veronica took her place beside him. Thank God for that damned hanky—no wonder Max thought I’d need it. As if the event itself didn’t unravel me enough. That line about being afraid of changing was the one that really did me in. Listening, I couldn’t help but think of how afraid I was of Max, and for so damned long. What a waste of precious time, when he stood there on the mountain extending his love to me with both of his generous hands.

  The hands I’m taking within my own now, as we face one another for these vows.

  “Hunter, repeat after me, please,” Reverend Donnelly instructs, and we begin to pledge our hearts, our love. Our very lives to one another.

  I take you as my husband…

  As I look into Maxwell’s eyes, I find I’m staring into the face of a younger man, one watching my approach across a crowded, smoky bar. He’s not dressed in a tux; he’s wearing a red polo shirt and smiling up at me, innocent, perfect. The most beautiful man I’ve probably ever seen in my life, just sitting there with my girlfriend.

  For richer and for poorer…

  I’m not only staring into the eyes of my lover, of the man who’s becoming my husband at this very moment, but into the eyes of my companion. A twin of my own, to mirror my heart and soul; a whole family for me in the form of one person.

  In sickness and in health…

  Now I’m looking into aged eyes, the eyes of a man I’ve spent a lifetime with, still bright and filled with life, despite the many years etched between us.

  Until death do us part…

  I’m gazing into the rest of my life, right as I stare into those familiar dark eyes, flecked with strange, mercurial gold. Eyes that promise countless hidden mysteries of love and worship and eternity with him. Eyes that already own the complexities of my very soul.

  With this ring…

  My damned hands are shaking so badly, Maxwell’s having a hard time working the simple band onto my finger. So he steadies my palm between both of his, telling me that he’s got it under control with the flash of a simple smile and a tender squeeze of his hands. Then just like that, I’m marked as his, forever, as the reverend pronounces us civilly joined. Husband and husband, for all the crowd to see.

  “Gentlemen, you may share a celebratory kiss,” he tells us with a conspiratorial grin. I even chuckle to myself, wishing he’d said, “You may kiss the bride”, just for the hell of it.

  Slowly, I turn to face my groom, my face burning beneath this collective group’s gaze. It’s one thing to profess my undying love to Maxwell in front of them all, but quite another to lay a big sloppy one on him like I’m about to do. In front of his dad and mom, my own sweet aunt. Right beside Veronica, the last girl I ever made love to before I got with him. And with Louisa watching, a woman who could have easily been his wife in some alter-universe.

  So I cup his face within my trembling hands, close my eyes and allow everything else to fade away except our moment. I focus on the scent of him, that delicious aftershave that always makes me kind of crazy with desire, and draw his mouth to
my own. Slow, tender; I want this kiss to last forever. Our lips meet and brush together, then I kiss him as hungrily as I ever have, right for the whole world to see. For his old man to understand just how deep our passion really runs.

  And then, as we break apart, there’s a roar of applause and even happy shouts from Brian and Ben and John and who knows who else, as Reverend Donnelly asks all of our guests to welcome the newly joined couple.

  Then like a blurry vision, next thing I know, Maxwell and I are practically sprinting down that aisle, a shower of cherry blossoms lighting our joyous way.

  The sun has dipped low, filtering golden orange along the tree-lined horizon, a romantic mirror on the lake at the bottom of the hill. The music has kicked into overdrive, just like the champagne. In fact, I think my party train might’ve left giddy somewhere back down the track a while ago. Max and I haven’t stopped dancing, not for the past two hours, just switching off to spin turns with all the people we love, gathered here beneath the wedding tent. At the moment, I’ve got Veronica’s hand in mine, kind of leading her in a wild, semi-drunken twirl.

  “Woooooo,” she laughs, reaching out to steady herself. “Watch it, there.” The band is belting out that old Santana tune, the one with “little bit of this, little bit of that” in the chorus, so I sing it back to her and she gives me a gorgeous smile. “Ah, Willis, you make one hell of a handsome groom,” she says, leaning up to kiss my cheek. “Not my groom, thank God, but a great looking one.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see that Max has Aunt Edna bobbing along with him to the music. I have to smirk thinking back on the bachelor party. Wonder what Ed would do if lover boy stripped down to his tux pants. She’d probably still worship my new husband, which is fine by me. Apparently, bonding over Hermes and Rodeo Drive can be a powerful thing. But I know it’s far more than that—Edna loves the ones I love, always has.

  I also see that Louisa is standing alone by the punch bowl and that gets me inspired. After kissing Veronica on the cheek for about the tenth time today, I head over to my husband’s best friend. It’s time the two of us shared a wedding dance together, and I sure don’t like the image of her standing by herself, especially not today of all days.

  “May I?” I ask, extending my hand with a dramatic, gallant sweep. For a moment, I swear Louisa seems surprised that it’s me, almost like she’d been expecting someone else.

  “Of course! I’d love to dance with you, Hunter.” She extends her hand, and I lead her out onto the floor, finding us a good, spacious spot.

  From the get go, it’s different than with Veronica, not so relaxed and easy. For one thing, I’ve never had a physical relationship with Louisa before. But it’s more than that; I’m always shocked by how graceful Louisa Carter really is. Just small, delicate like a little bird or something whenever I hug her. So now, slipping my palm around her waist, the contrast between her feminine body and the very masculine one that I’ve grown accustomed to holding all the time, well it kind of shocks me.

  She looks up at me, laughing self-consciously, almost as if she reads my thoughts. “What’s wrong, Hunter?”

  “It’s not you,” I rush to assure her, shaking my head. “Was just thinking that I’m pretty much a boy’s boy now.”

  “You’re more comfortable dancing with Max,” she interprets, her expression intent and thoughtful. “With being gay.” Somehow I feel a little like I’ve just been caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

  “Guess I’m not so used to women anymore,” I clarify, feeling oddly shy with her. As if the truth of my sexual existence hasn’t been on display all day long. As if she hasn’t seen me holding Max in my arms on plenty of other occasions. Or maybe it’s that my lover once held her this way, and that thought’s just kind of weird to me.

  But Louisa seems to get my discomfort, and blesses me with a huge smile, a generous one and says, “Hunter, you make him so happy. I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been in the past year.”

  My chest swells with a strange kind of pride at her assessment; that of all the people in the universe—even her—I’m the one who held the keys to his happiness. But then guilt chases hard on the heels of that thought, as she stares up at me with such sweet, honest eyes. Eyes that I know looked up into Maxwell’s once upon a time and believed in the possibility of true love.

  “Louisa, look,” I say, drawing in a steadying breath. “I don’t want you to feel like, well, that I took him from you or—”

  “Hunter!” she cries, stopping right where we are on the dance floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” We stand locked together, not dancing, just still in one another’s arms.

  “Uh, well, not really.” What was I thinking? Suddenly, I’m not so sure, except that I wanted her to know that she means the world to me too. That she’s my good friend and I never want her to think of me as someone who stole Maxwell away from her. Not as a lover, or even as a best friend.

  She slips a reassuring hand around my neck, pulling me low so she can whisper in my ear. It’s not like anyone around us can hear, but still, that’s what she does. “Hunter, he and I’d been broken up a long time before you got with him.”

  “I know.”

  “No, Hunter, I don’t really think you do. Deep down, I always knew he was gay.”

  “But you were together,” I begin to argue, until she closes her eyes. It’s a weary, unexpected kind of expression that shuts me up completely. Maybe because of all it says about their two-year romantic relationship, in just that one snapshot of a moment.

  Finally the dark eyes open again, searching my face as she whispers against my cheek, “I did love him, Hunter. But he was gay, and I knew it going in, okay?”

  For endless dance beats we sway together, silent. Safe as best friends, chaste as brother and sister, then I murmur back into her ear, “Then what changed?”

  “I wanted him to be happy, Hunter. And I knew he would never let go of me. He was just holding on too hard.”

  “So you broke it off,” I finish and she nods, a melancholy expression shadowing her eyes momentarily. But then it’s gone, replaced with the smile again, as she returns to this moment.

  “And now?”

  She grows quiet a moment, reflective, holding on to my shoulder; I feel her inner strength beneath my palms. “I still love him. He’s my best friend in all the world, so don’t forget that, okay?” I give her a slightly dazed nod, just listening to these revelations. “But it’s really different now and not just because he’s with you. Now I want more. I want to be happy, too.”

  Way to go, sweetheart. That’s what I want to say, but instead I pull her closer and hold her for a long moment, feeling her strong heartbeat against my chest. I thank God that Maxwell Daniels is queer and mine and that Louisa is on her way to finding true bliss with someone of her own. That she’s found release, just like Max and me. In her own strange way, Louisa is coming out of the closet, too.

  I’m lost in those thoughts, feeling really good about all of our futures, when suddenly she says, “You know, when Max first got with you, I used to worry that you’d hurt him. I was so petrified you’d break his heart.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I could see how desperately he loved you.” I swear the floor grows a little unsteady at her easy observation. I can’t believe it was so obvious, though of course it would have been to her.

  “What changed?”

  “Well, as time went on, I saw how much you loved him, too,” she says with a tender smile. “I knew you weren’t capable of hurting anyone you cared for like that.”

  “So you stopped worrying?”

  “A long time ago. Now I just feel lucky that I’m gaining another best friend.”

  All right, where’d that goddamned hanky go? Because I swear, I’m about to fall apart all over again, right in the arms of one Louisa Carter. So I reach into my jacket for the thi
ng; I’m patting down my pocket when I feel a familiar hand touch my arm. “Mind if I cut in?” Max asks sweetly. “I miss my husband.”

  “Oh, please,” Louisa says, as she releases me with a throaty laugh. “As if Hunter Willis has eyes for anyone else here tonight.”

  “Well he wasn’t looking at anyone but you just then, sweetheart.” Max kisses her on the lips with a quiet laugh. “And no wonder. You’re absolutely beautiful today. That dress makes you shine like ten million bucks.”

  She makes a feeble attempt at waving off his compliment, but he only groans, wrapping both his arms around her. “Come on, you know it, girl! Come on!” She begins to laugh, resting her cheek on his shoulder for a moment.

  “Girl, you’re beautiful and we all know it,” she teases him saucily, kissing him in return. For a moment, they kind of linger close like that, clinched in each other’s arms. How much they still love one another is undeniable; it shows in every gesture that passes so easily between the two of them. They just weren’t destined to be lovers, that’s all.

  “Speaking of looking,” Max says pointedly, gazing past her toward a guy I hadn’t noticed before that moment. “I see you met Mr. Edwards.”

  As if on cue, Louisa’s entire expression changes, a kind of demure look coming over her that I swear I’ve never seen before. “Max Daniels, don’t you dare say a word,” she cautions, dropping her head shyly, and I’m still wondering what the hell they’re even talking about. That is until the strapping, handsome guy tracks right her way, a disarming smile on his face.

  “Inbound!” Max laughs giddily, watching Mr. Blond and Beautiful head right for her. “And I think he’s got missile lock.”

  “Stop it, DeLuca in training,” Louisa quips, swatting at Max’s arm as she leaves us to dance.

  “So who’s the guy?” I ask, feeling curious about this stranger. Something about him is weirdly familiar, and besides, he’s at my wedding. Shouldn’t I know who the hell he is?