I Thee Wed

by A. R. Moler

  I Thee Wed

  By A.R. Moler

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2018 A.R. Moler

  ISBN 9781634867856

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  I Thee Wed

  By A.R. Moler

  In the parking lot of the large hotel, Tristan Blake leaned his head against the steering wheel. He hadn’t factored in the six-hour drive when he’d decided to pick this area as a venue for his wedding to Brian Townsend. Falling Water, the Frank Lloyd Wright designed house, was a museum open to the public. The house itself was not the venue, per se. No feasible amount of money could manage that. The “Barn at Falling Water,” however, did host weddings and meetings…for a considerable fee. A mix of luck and an open checkbook had made this possible.

  Tomorrow was the wedding. Tonight, he and Brian, as well as a number of family and friends were all staying in a large nearby hotel. Brian had been picked up the day before by his sister, Heather, and the two of them had come a day early to make sure everything was lined up for the big day. Tristan had been stuck at work until almost the last possible minute, trying to wangle his schedule so he had a full week off for the wedding and the honeymoon.

  Please let there be no more driving today. Tristan sat upright and fished his phone from his coat pocket. He dialed Brian.

  “Where are you?” Brian answered.

  “In the parking lot out front, thank God.”

  “Weather issues?”

  Tristan looked at the cloudy sky, which hung heavy but shed no precipitation yet. “No, just insane traffic trying to get out of the city.”

  “I’m in 304. You want me to come down and collect you?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “See you in five.”

  Tristan got out of the car and stretched. Too many hours behind the wheel had left him feeling stiff and achy. The bitter cold of November wasn’t helping any. The weather had been a little crazy everywhere on the East coast over the past few weeks. Unseasonably early snow had combined with days of warmth, followed by freezing temperatures. He zipped up his heavy coat and went around to the trunk, pulling out a garment bag and a large suitcase. Maybe they should have picked a date in the spring rather than the weekend after Thanksgiving. Too late now.

  As he saw Brian crossing the parking lot, Tristan laid the garment bag over the hood of the car.

  “Hey, you,” Brian quipped. He wound his arms around Tristan’s body and planted a kiss on his fiancé’s mouth.

  “Mmm.” Tristan relished the contact and leaned into Brian’s embrace a little harder. Coming up for air, he asked, “Any major problems?”

  “Not really. My family’s on a different floor from us in the hotel, but I don’t know that I’d necessarily call that a problem.”

  “You like your family.”

  “I do, but I might draw the line at having them hear me scream your name at an appropriate moment.”

  “You’re usually moderately quiet in the throes of passion,” Tristan teased. “And isn’t all that supposed to happen tomorrow night?”

  “You would deny me an opportunity to continue living in sin with you one more night?” Brian grinned and groped Tristan’s crotch.

  “I’m defending my honor,” Tristan replied with a mostly straight face.

  “And you were very honorable when I blew you in the shower yesterday morning.” Brian leaned in and kissed Tristan again, tongue sliding into Tristan’s mouth.

  Tristan enjoyed the gentle assault, finally saying “You do realize it’s freaking cold out here in the parking lot.”

  “True.” Brian grabbed the handle of Tristan’s suitcase with one hand and beckoned him to follow.

  * * * *

  Brian pushed the button to call the elevator. He thought Tristan looked tired. Hopefully a decent night’s sleep would help. The wedding was scheduled for three the following afternoon, so neither of them needed to get up particularly early.

  “Are your parents all set for tomorrow?” Tristan asked.

  “They’re currently having a drink in the bar. I think Mom is more wound up than Dad.”

  “Is that usual?”

  “Eh, not really, but me getting married is kind of a big deal,” Brian said.

  As they waited for the elevator, someone called out Tristan’s name. Both Brian and Tristan turned to look. It was Tristan’s mother. Brian noted the look of surprise on Tristan’s face.

  Althea Blake stalked across the lobby toward her son, her Manolo Blahnik heels clicking on the tile.

  “Mother…” Tristan said warily.

  “We need to talk, right now.” Althea said. Her tone was tight and snippy.

  “I just got here. I’d really like to take my luggage up to the room first.” Tristan gestured with his garment bag.

  “Fine. I’ll wait in the lounge.” She spun on her heel and took three steps before turning back. “I expect you back down here in twenty minutes, alone.” She strode off in the direction of the hotel bar.

  “I don’t know whether we should be happy she deigned to come or afraid that she wants to reorganize the whole event,” Brian said.

  The elevator door opened and he and Tristan stepped inside.

  “That was not her—I’m here to take charge- tone. I don’t know why she’s here.” Tristan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall of the elevator.

  Brian cupped his hand against Tristan’s cheek. “We’ll stash your stuff in the room and then come back down.”

  “I think the alone part means she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Your choice then.” Brian felt a little dubious about Tristan facing his mother alone the night before their wedding. Their history in recent years was rather rocky. The elevator stopped at the appropriate floor and the two of them got off. Brian led the way down the hall to their assigned room and opened it with a key card.

  Inside the room, Tristan hung the garment bag in the closet and took off his heavy jacket. He sat down on the bed, elbows on his knees, head hanging. “I should be happy to see her, except I have suspicions where this is going.”

  Brian dropped to his knees in front of Tristan and took Tristan’s hands in his own. “Let me at least come down to the bar with you. My folks tend to dawdle over drinks and they’re probably still down there. I can go hang out with them and still be not too far away from you.”

  Tristan raised his head enough to meet Brian’s gaze. “I love you.”

  “I think that’s why we’re getting married.” Brian leaned in and kissed his soon-to-be-husband.

  * * * *


  Walking through the bar, Tristan eyed his mother, who was seated at a small table, martini glass in front of her. She wore a tailored peach colored skirt suit, not a hair out of place, rings on her fingers and diamond earrings in her ears. One manicured fingernail tapped on the screen of her phone.

  Tristan sat across from her. “Mother, I didn’t expect to see you. I’m pleased that you decided to come for the wedding.”

  “There will be no wedding,” Althea said flatly.

  “Um, it’s all set for tomorrow, booked and paid for.”

  “It’s a ludicrous travesty of reality. You will not marry…some man,” she spluttered.

  “I’m gay, Mother. It’s not like I would marry a woman.”

  “You destroyed your relationship with Felicity. It held such promise.”

  “Felicity and I went to the gala to appease you and her parents. She has a boyfriend. She moved in with him months ago. Brian and I are getting married tomorrow.” Tristan did his best to hold onto his temper.

  “I will never be able to mention you in public ever again! I will be disgraced. My son, who has the audacity to do some menial police job, is now marrying a man. The bridge club is apt to eject me. My friends keep asking when I will have grandchildren, and I have no answers. Your father and I sent you to a good private school and you even graduated from a good college with a criminology degree. That was supposed to lead to law school. I had thought I’d be able to tell my friends my son had made partner or won an important case or signed contracts on multi-million dollar properties. You are ruining my life!”

  Tristan held his breath for a ten count before speaking. “This isn’t about making you happy. I have a job I’m proud of and I’m marrying the man I love. When did all of this suddenly become all about you? Live your own life. Stay out of mine.”

  Althea made an outraged sound. “How dare you. I spent time and money raising you and this is what you do to me?”

  “I haven’t done anything to you except live my own life.”

  “If you do this you will never be welcome in our house again.”

  Tristan wanted to roll his eyes. “Okay.”

  “Your father said he voiced his objections and you ignored him, too.”

  “Yes.”

  “Walk away. Forget this. If Felicity is not the one you care for, find another woman. I know lots of families with eligible daughters, pretty ones at that.”

  Tristan pointed a finger at himself. “Gay. Always have been, always will be. I am marrying Brian Townsend tomorrow.” He stood and walked away. If he lingered for one more outrageous pronouncement from his mother, he’d start shouting. It took a moment to scan the room for Brian, who was seated at a table on the far side, watching him.

  As he approached, Brian stood. “What on earth was that all about?”

  “Her final attempt to try and convince me that I shouldn’t marry you. I am apparently an embarrassment who’s ruining her life.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue even though he’d known for years about her opinions.

  Brian pulled Tristan into a hug. “Try to set it aside. And when the fuck did you getting married become all about her?”

  “I think that was the point I failed to make.”

  Brian placed a long, soft kiss on Tristan’s mouth. “Is there a chance she’d show up tomorrow and protest in the middle of the ceremony?”

  “I doubt it. With her it’s all about the image. Doing that would be public and then somebody she’d like to impress might hear that she had lost her shit at her son’s wedding. Are your parents still around?”

  “They went up to their room. I think Mom was planning on fiddling with her hair to find some optimal way to wear it tomorrow.”

  Tristan smiled. “At least that sounds like an average mother of the groom problem to me.”

  “Come on up to the room. You look tired. There’s going to be photography tomorrow and it would probably be a good idea for neither of us to look like zombies.”

  Tristan blinked and smirked. He could just imagine Brian in heavy gory makeup, lumbering around being goofy.

  “Your brain did not just go there.” Brian said with a laugh. “You’ve been living with me too long already.”

  * * * *

  Back upstairs, inside their hotel room, Brian said, “Bed. You look beat.” He began unbuttoning Tristan’s shirt.

  “Didn’t you threaten to be loud and in the throes of passion tonight?”

  “I did, and you on the other hand look like you could sleep ‘til Tuesday. Wanna tell me about what went on before you left work?”

  “Paperwork. Groveling. Phone calls and more paperwork.”

  Brian pushed Tristan’s shirt back off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor, then he turned his attention to Tristan’s belt. “Groveling from you or from the higher ups asking you to cut short the number of days off you requested.”

  Tristan made a face. “Mostly choice A because of choice B.”

  “Damn it. It’s our wedding. You work overtime way too often. They should not be giving you shit about this.” Brian was fully aware of Tristan’s passion for his job, but he also knew it wasn’t without its toll.

  “That was my opinion. I did get Lt. Giannotti to back me on being completely unavailable for an entire week.”

  “Well, good. I still think they are being unrealistic in giving you grief for being gone one week.” Brian dropped the belt on the floor, too. “Burn out is a thing.” He reached to unzip Tristan’s slacks.

  Tristan took hold of Brian’s wrists. “And this, you and me, is one of the most important things I’ve ever done.” He leaned in and kissed Brian, then rested his forehead against Brian’s shoulder. “God, I’m tired.”

  “So, let me get on with undressing you and then you can sleep.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  * * * *

  Brian peeked out of the hallway into the room with the large stone fireplace. He could see the several dozen people who’d been invited to the wedding. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  He wanted this badly. He loved Tristan, and yet standing in public and making it legal was just a little nerve wracking. Another glance through the doorway allowed Brian to survey the guests. His family, coworkers, and friends outnumbered the ones invited by Tristan. Bitterly noticeable was the complete absence of any of Tristan’s family. Maybe that was a good thing though, after the previous night’s impromptu appearance and protest by Althea. Even though Tristan was of the opinion his mother wouldn’t consider being publicly vocal against the wedding, Brian steeled a tiny part of himself to form a plan just in case it did happen.

  His own parents were visible near the front of the room, busy chatting to some other guests. His sister was nowhere to be seen. He suspected she was off dealing with last minute catering details.

  Tristan came into the hallway.

  “Everything okay?” Brian asked.

  Tristan paced toward the far end of the hallway and back, adjusting his bow tie and straightening the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. “How much longer?”

  “About ten minutes. Getting cold feet?”

  “No.”

  “Thinking about the expense?”

  “Absolutely not. Money is just money. I only plan on doing this once in my life. It may as well be epic.”

  “You never did confess how much renting this place cost.”

  “There were some zeros involved. That’s all I’m telling you.”

  “We could duck into a closet somewhere and I could torture you until you confess,” Brian suggested. Considering that Brian had convinced Tristan to get hot and heavy in a semi-public place way more than once, his soon to be husband knew it wasn’t exactly an idle threat.

  “This time…I think we should restrain ourselves.” Tristan placed a fingertip on Brian’s lips, then whispered, “Tonight though…has definite possibilities.”

  Brian smiled. The two of them stood there lookin
g at each other until the music started. To have music or not have music had been something of a debate. The decision had been made to forego the stereotypical wedding march, because that made both of them envision women in white gowns. Instead they had chosen Aaron Copland’s “Fanfare for the Common Man.”

  After the first few seconds, Tristan took Brian’s hand and they walked down the center aisle to stand in front of the fireplace and the justice of the peace, who was officiating.

  * * * *

  It wasn’t until the section that began as “with this ring I thee wed,” that Tristan felt the butterflies of nervousness in his stomach. This was real. And almost done. And he was about to be a married man. Brian slid the ring onto Tristan’s finger and their eyes met. Brian’s gaze looked so warm and caring. Tristan felt Brian squeeze his fingers a little as the rest of the words were said. It was just a moment’s reassurance and it made Tristan want to pull Brian into a kiss right then.

  They made it through the last few minutes of the ceremony and the official said, “I now pronounce you husband and husband.”

  Tristan’s stomach did another little flip-flop as he slid his arms around Brian.

  Brian murmured, “I love you,” and their mouths met. The kiss was like soft magic, the heat of Brian’s lips on his. For one long second the world around them went away and it was just the two of them in each other’s arms.

  And then there was clapping and he had to loosen his hold on Brian. They turned to face the assembled friends and family and walked back up the aisle per tradition.

  At the reception, in another room of the building, the next event was a meal, cake cutting and finally a toast. Brian’s father, Kevin, stood at the head table and picked up a glass of champagne.

  “Today I watched my son marry the love of his life. Brian, you really vowed everyone today, even the cake is in tiers.” Kevin cast a surreptitious glance at his son while the guests groaned. Brian smirked. “I dare say there aren’t a huge number of weddings where an architect marries a police officer. I’ve heard rumors that future plans involve formation of a partnership titled -Erections and Detections.” Laughter rolled through the guests.