Except…that wasn’t what happened. Not exactly.
Marcus had met Tyler, for starters, immediately upon his arrival in the States. Literally the first night there, when Terry brought him straight to the weekly poker game after picking him up at the airport. Marcus had already been a fan of Tyler’s work, and the two had hit it off immediately.
And then Marcus was called back to Brussels less than two weeks after his sabbatical started, and just days after his arrival in Tampa, to teach when another professor had a heart attack. That basically gave Marcus double pay for the time period, something at the time he wouldn’t turn down.
He’d walked away from Tyler to return to Jean-Claude, seeing it as a sign.
Despite living together, the men frequently used letters to each other to express themselves. Some had been mailed, most apparently hand-delivered, in an envelope.
To Marcus’ credit, upon his return he’d completely confessed to Jean-Claude what he and Tyler did while Marcus was in Tampa. He gave Jean-Claude the option to stay on in the apartment as a roommate for the next six months, if he wished, if that was a deal-breaker for him. Or until he could find a place of his own. He didn’t want to simply toss Jean-Claude out if the man decided they were over.
Instead, Jean-Claude offered to quit working if Marcus was serious about them being together for life, but it meant no more outside play or dating—or sex, obviously—for either of them.
And…
After several weeks of negotiations back and forth, sometimes angry, sometimes in pain—sometimes just being stupid, stubborn men—they’d each agreed to all of the other’s demands in the end, and fully reconciled.
It was painfully obvious to Tom how much Marcus had loved Jean-Claude, and it honestly seemed from Tom’s perspective that it took the younger man a while to fully process that. Especially in light of Marcus sleeping with Tyler so soon after their separation.
But when Marcus looked at all the things they’d already shared together, the years they’d been together, he knew it was really Jean-Claude he wanted.
And, a month after their final, official reconciliation, after Jean-Claude had already quit working, Marcus relented and told him he could find another job, if he wished.
Jean-Claude chose not to, on the condition that they spent more time going out with friends, vanilla or kinky, and hosting dinners and parties at their apartment. He didn’t want to be house-bound and alone all the time when Marcus got to work and be out in the world every day.
Again, something else Tommy could easily empathize with, having been there himself during the recovery from his accident.
Despite Marcus preferring to spend time at home, or alone with Jean-Claude, either in the city or out hiking, he readily agreed to the terms.
They exchanged wedding bands a few months later, while on holiday at a seaside resort in France.
Over time, their love deepened and grew. Jean-Claude admitted he loved that Marcus didn’t hesitate to introduce him as his husband despite their lack of a legal status.
Marcus frequently took note of and thanked Jean-Claude for all the little, mundane things he did for him.
Making a point of telling him frequently how proud he was of Jean-Claude.
Through all of this, after the reconciliation, there was little mention of Tyler, one way or another. Jean-Claude never seemed to throw the interlude in Marcus’ face, at least not in writing. Although about a year after their reconciliation, there was an allusion in a letter from Jean-Claude to Marcus which Tom strongly suspected meant Tyler.
Are you finally [[truly?]] happy, Master? Have I proven myself? I want to spend my life with you, and hope that these months have shown [[proven]] that. After much soul-searching I can see why you remained so unbendable [[stubborn]] before. When there is the strong risk of being replaced, and no guarantee of forever, fear can take hold. I never understood that before. I thought you were simply being arbitrary and controlling. Had I experienced it from your heart [[point of view?]], I would have felt the fear myself and understood and addressed it directly.
Do you regret returning to me? Because I understand now how close I came to losing perfection to someone who likely could have just as easily made you happy in the same ways. I do appreciate you making concessions to me. It was more proof of your love for me. But I see the way your eyes follow me at home, the easy way you laugh now, how you can relax with me in a way you never could before.
I understand now.
I pledge to you to never again lock my feet or my mind [[perhaps he’s alluding to stubbornness?]] against you so recklessly [[arbitrarily?]]. If you will promise to keep your ears and heart open to me, I shall do the same for you…
Most of the notes and cards and letters between that period and later were simply love notes. At one point, Marcus had spent a month abroad teaching in Australia and he lamented his time away from Jean-Claude.
I should have demanded they pay your way as part of my fee. Aggravation and untenable expense to leave and care for our nest or not [[I think he means about arranging a house-sitter]], this is truly hell without you here to soothe me at the end of every day, my sleep is uneasy and fitful, and my return to you cannot come swiftly enough for me…
Jean-Claude’s cancer diagnosis nearly killed Marcus. A letter he’d written that Tom wasn’t sure he’d actually given to Jean-Claude, because Andrew noted the envelope had been sealed and looked like it might not have ever been opened before that, bore several smears Tom finally realized were teardrops.
I cannot lose you. You are my light and my life and the breath in my lungs. You are my day and my night and there is no life without you here with me. You must promise me to fight. You must promise me to live.
You must promise you will never leave me because I promised I would never leave you…
Tom paused and wiped at his own eyes. For years he’d mentally demonized Marcus as a cold, uncaring asshole.
The truth was far more complicated.
The final note was written on a date that pinged Tom’s memory because he remembered it was the date listed on Jean-Claude’s death certificate, which the funeral home had provided them a copy of.
I sit here watching and waiting and wishing both for your pain to finally end for your sake, and for mine to do so as well. Wondering if you’d know me if I joined you shortly after, by blade to my wrist, or by taking the bottle of pills I saved back just in case.
I cannot bear to helplessly watch you suffer, but I know my suffering will only deepen the moment you are free of your pain…and me.
I wish to join and follow you and I’m not sure I’m brave enough to do it. I wish to take my last breath with you and yours.
And I do not know if I’m strong enough to live without you…
This one was also covered with stains from teardrops.
An image flashed to mind, of Marcus sitting next to Jean-Claude in a room similar to the one he himself had expired in, crying while he penned the note as he sat by his lover’s side and…waited.
Tom copied the file to his laptop. Then he closed and ejected the thumb drive, closed the laptop, and stood. He returned the laptop to his desk, tucking the envelope of letters and the thumb drive into a drawer. With that done, he limped out to the dining room, where the liquor cabinet stood.
There wasn’t a lot in it. Mostly, it was fancy glasses they never used, and a couple of bottles of booze that had been gifted to them over the years but they’d never cracked the seal to drink.
But in the back stood a bottle he’d rarely touched, of Macallan Single Malt Scotch Whisky, over sixty years old now. Only six shots had ever been poured from it. It’d been moved from Georgia to Florida and back again.
His father had been given the bottle by a friend of his, to celebrate Tommy’s birth after five girls. His parents had celebrated by them each doing a shot together from it. His mom had given him the bottle when his father died, and he’d done a shot with her from it after his funeral, the two
of them alone in front of his parents’ wedding picture hanging on the wall in their home.
He and Tyler had done a shot together after Momma’s funeral, once Nevvie and the kids were asleep, in front of the same picture.
Now he poured a seventh shot from the bottle and limped his way down the hall, past his office, to Tyler’s. Normally, they didn’t disturb his privacy. His office, his space, and the kids knew that.
Tom opened the door and softly closed it behind him so he could turn on the light.
On the shelf in the corner behind Tyler’s desk sat the two urns, the picture.
The wedding bands and necklace.
Tyler had talked about putting them in one urn, the way Marcus had requested, but with the hurricane and then Zoey, he hadn’t gotten around to doing it yet.
He walked over and stared at the picture for a long time, trying to decide what to say. Finally, he held up the shot glass and studied the amber liquid before returning his focus to the photograph.
Marcus’ grey gaze seemed to bore right into the camera. While both men were smiling, Jean-Claude stared up at Marcus with an unmistakable look of devotion and love. The Master had wrapped his arms around Jean-Claude, holding him tightly, no daylight between them.
Because they weren’t wearing their wedding bands in the picture, Tyler told Tom he guessed it had likely been taken within a few months after Marcus left the States and returned to Brussels, or possibly as early as before their separation.
Tommy guessed after Marcus returned, simply because there seemed to be an easy air between the men that the tension leading up to their separation wouldn’t have allowed.
“Thanks for letting Tyler go, Marcus. I’m sorry I hated you for all those years, and I’m sorry I punched you. I get it now. But if you hadn’t let him go, I wouldn’t have him, or Nevvie, or our kids. Mom and Andrew wouldn’t have been together. And Andrew wouldn’t have met Colin.
“I hope you and Jean-Claude found each other again that afternoon and that he was waiting for you to return to him. I really want to believe that, that you’re together again and finally happy. Because maybe it means Momma and Daddy found each other, too.”
He threw back the scotch, the liquid searing a hot trail all the way down his throat to his stomach. He kissed his fingers and then pressed them first to Jean-Claude’s urn, then Marcus’, and left Tyler’s office after turning off the light.
Maybe if they were hanging around they could help keep an eye on their family, too. He could only hope.
With every day that passed and they didn’t make an arrest in Cole Johnson’s murder, it grew less likely they’d solve the case. From what Bob had gleaned, there was no physical evidence to go on, other than ballistics. Even those were slim, because the killer had picked up their shell casings after shooting Cole.
Their mysterious midnight prowler hadn’t reappeared, either. The changes Manny had made to their security system would immediately alert them if they did.
Tyler barely stirred when Tommy slipped into bed with him and Nevvie. Tyler had ended up in the middle tonight.
Tomorrow, Tom would give him the thumb drive and letters and let him do whatever he wanted with them. The focus of the content was between Marcus and Jean-Claude and their life together.
In all that time, he and Tyler had built their life together, added Nevvie, welcomed children—that was the important thing.
It didn’t matter if Tyler read the letters or not. All that mattered was that two imperfect men had found each other, loved each other, and spent their lives together, briefly separated, until they were once again reunited by death.
Tom could only pray their love story ended so well, hopefully many, many years in the future.
THE END
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