by Jason Banks
So many emotions whizzed through Maxwell, but none of them were any of the negative sensations he felt previously. The clothing, the flowers, the song. It all made perfect sense to him now. This was the validation he was in search of. Brogan really must have visited Durango in a dream. There wasn’t any more denying it. And it took no time at all for Maxwell to reply.
“Yes, I do,” he shoved his forearm across his tear-filled eyes. “I mean, I want nothing else but that, Durango Walters.”
Throughout the past half-hour, Maxwell has nervously shaken his left leg three billion times, he’d trimmed his nail beds practically down to the skin, and he’d began cracking the knuckles on his right hand. Having spent a couple months in therapy, he’d grown accustomed to the overall process and while he felt comfortable telling Samantha literally anything and everything—it seemed the environment of a therapist’s office is was made him most uncomfortable each time. Max knew that his rapport with her had grown tremendously in the four months he’d been coming to see her, just about once each week. But the feelings he got each time in her office full of eclectic décor, seemed to leave a lot more to be desired. Samantha twisted her neck, allowing an audible crack to emanate across the room.
“You’re doing so well, Max,” she said, tipping her stainless-steel Yeti mug to her mouth. “I’m excited to hear about the wedding and the honeymoon,” she added.
Max let out an excited sigh. “Hmmphhh,” he began. “So the minute I leave here, I have to go pickup my tux, rush to the caterer’s, pick up my mother from the airport, oh and the kids get out of school in literally two hours.”
Samantha returned her mug to the table beside her. “I remember the pre-wedding blitz. It’s like there’s not enough hours in the day.”
“But it’s possible, and I’m not complaining one bit,” Max shrugged, scratching the back of his head. “I can’t necessarily say the man stole my heart. In the whole scheme of things, that’s quite the skewed schematic of our particular relationship,” he said with a wink.
She nodded in agreement. “Right, I can understand that,” she offered. “But, it’s also not like this sort of thing happens every day.”
Max looked into his Apple Watch. Shocked that while his paid hour with Samantha hadn’t been completely up, the day wasn’t getting any younger with the laundry list of things he needed to get finished. Not to mention finding time to eat with any hope of sending the kids off to bed by a reasonable time.
***
“Come on, sweetheart,” Max called up the stairwell to Lily, who was giving each of her stuffed animals a farewell for the two weeks she’d be away from them.
Maxwell’s mom looked into her wristwatch. “What’s taking her so long?”
“She has a deep attachment with all her stuffed animals,” he replied. “She has a routine with them, and she follows it. Every day. She hasn’t been separated from them for very long. Not like this.”
“How sweet,” she smiled.
“I do, however, wish she’d hurry up a bit,” Max asserted, growing a bit impatient.
Luckily, he’d packed her suitcases already and had them all stowed away in his mom’s rental car. “You sure you have everything?”
“Oh yeah, numbers. Lists. Routines. I got this,” she acknowledged. “After tomorrow, you’re a married man again,” Marilyn added, looking into her son’s anxious eyes.
“Mom, thank you for everything. As weird as this sounds, I’m going to miss Lil so much more this time than any other time. It’s the first time in almost a year since I’ll have been more than five or six days away from her at a time,” he clenched his teeth. “Two weeks feels like forever at this point.”
“No, it’s okay,” she assured him. “You and Durango will have a lovely two weeks together all by yourselves. You don’t get a honeymoon every day, now, do ya?”
Max twisted his head around to notice Durango step around the corner of the hallway from the downstairs guest bathroom. He’d tried his tuxedo on for the first time, after picking it up from the tailor earlier that day. Seeing his new husband-to-be, at least he would be within another twenty-four hours, sent an immediate rush of happiness and testosterone to the already excited cock within his black Armani pants.
“Babe,” Max gasped. “It looks so good on you,” he said, trying to shut his wide-open mouth. But he couldn’t.
The fact was, Durango looked damn good in a tuxedo and he didn’t wear them very often. It just didn’t seem like his preferred style.
Durango smiled brightly, doing a little swish dance on his way toward Maxwell.
“Marilyn,” Durango grabbed her hand, offering a gentle kiss on top. “Always a pleasure.”
She blushed. “Why, Mr. Walters,” she batted her eyelashes. “Are you sure you’re marrying my son?”
“Charming, Mom,” Max cut in, taking Durango by the arm. “Get your own, he’s mine,” he joked.
Marilyn smiled. “Oh I know, I don’t get to tease you very often anymore. I see you twice a year if I’m lucky.”
“Babe, you look ravishing,” Max assured his man, leaning in for peck on the cheek. He placed his hand just below Durango’s lapel. “Now, go change. This is just the rehearsal dinner after all.”
Durango clicked his tongue. “Right, I guess I’m a little rusty on how this all works,” he joked, twirling his right hand while rolling his eyes. “I’ve never been married before,” he snickered, stepping back toward the bathroom he’d just came from.
Max looked at his phone to check his text messages. Brogan’s parents arrived in the morning, as he invited them to stand-in for Durango’s parents, provided that Durango’s parents were no longer alive to see their son marry the gender he was supposed to all along. To be frank, this made Maxwell very happy. To be realistic, it was quite fitting as hell. Given that Durango practically is a piece of their son. And it brought nothing but pure joy to his heart knowing that Josiah and Yael had gotten very close with him ever since he took the initiative to meet with them in person and help bring them closer with their granddaughter. It also made things a bit easier when Durango eagerly accompanied Max to their local Reform Jewish synagogue. Since January, the four of them have been active members of its congregation as Maxwell explored the culture his former husband had been born into, only on a bit more orthodox level.
“Brogan’s parents are on the way to our shul now,” he advised, clicking his phone off and slipping it back into his pants pocket.
“Oh honey,” Marilyn placed both her hands-on Max’s cheeks, in true motherly form. “It makes me so happy to see you happy, and I will always love you. Your father would be so proud of how well you’ve done.”
Maxwell began to feel a tad like some teenage boy preparing for prom. The types of sentimental touchy feely that she’d show the day of the dance as he tacked along with a crowd of his best guy pals—all whom eventually came out of the closet at various times. But, this time, his second marriage. It felt a bit different in some ways, from his wedding with Brogan. Sure, his father was not going to be present this time, but there by spirit.
Within the few moments after Durango returned to the foyer, Lily began her trail down the steps, grasped to the first teddy bear Brogan gave to her on her first Valentine’s Day.
“Daddy,” she said, holding out her arms as Maxwell swept her off the bottom steps. “I love you.”
“I love you too, munchkin.” Max returned the sentiment, attacking her with kisses. “After tomorrow, you’re gonna be a good girl for grandma, right?”
“You bet,” Marilyn replied on Lily’s behalf, reaching out her arm to pat her granddaughter’s head. “All my friends are impatiently waiting to spoil her the whole time she’s visiting. She may not want to ever come back.”
Max returned the blonde headed gem back on her feet. “She’s right, you know,” Lily agreed, shrugging her shoulders. “If I don’t, it’s okay,” she added, holding out both palms faced up at her sides. “I’ll send for my things.”
Durango called over his shoulder into the living room where Gage was occupied on the couch with his Gameboy. “Come on, buddy. Time to go.”
***
As the hours progressed into the late evening on the third day in May, Durango followed his man into the new abode which was practically already his as well. They kicked off their shoes in the foyer as Max took his hand, running up the steps. They weren’t even married quite yet, and the excitement already got the best of him. He hurried up the steps, clutching Max’s hand with one and holding to the banister with his other. The two men arrived at the top of the stairs in no time at all, whereupon, Durango scooped Max into his arms and carried his lover into the master bedroom, setting him back down once they reached the entryway of the bedroom into the spacious bathroom. He ran the back of his hand up the length of Max’ s torso and once his fingers reached the younger man’s chin, he let out a warm grunt.
In the hush of their quiet small sized McMansion and the gentle illumination from the dim bedside lamps, Durango couldn’t resist his urges any longer that day. With both hands just below the collar, he tugged his grasp at the first button hole with such veracity, it tore apart with seemingly little effort. He tossed it aside, letting it casually fall to the hardwood floor as he removed the young man’s black wayfarers and gently hurled them behind him, listening to the rustle of the bedspread as they crashed into the top cushion.
“You wait here, mister,” Durango muttered, stepping into the bathroom, switching on the lights above the walk-in shower.
“Mmmm,” Max whispered. “Yes, sir.”
Durango swung open the wide shower door and started the water to start getting warm. He stepped back out to the doorway where he found Maxwell had already taken the liberty of stepping out of his black pants. Durango leaned into his younger lover’s face with his head tilted, intent on planting his tongue directly between his inviting lips, while he felt Max’s wrists grasp hold to the hem of his black shirt. Maxwell slid the shirt completely off just in time for Durango to nudge his man into the bathroom, twisting around and pressing Max’s spine against the wall of the bathroom. Their heads locked for several minutes exchanging in the unrestrained passion which was about to ensure, as clouds of hot steam quickly filled the bathroom.
Still engaged in the tender swapping of tongues, Durango felt Maxwell’s hands reach for the button and zipper of his dark-wash jeans, allowing them to fall down around his ankles. Durango’s index fingers traveled down to Max’s waist, so he could loosen the man’s boxers, followed quickly by his own underwear dropping to the ground in succession. His hands curled back around Max’s completely naked body while he bent his knees, grabbing at the base of his man’s ass cheeks and lifted him up. Max’s arms wrapped around Durango’s strong neck while being carried into the walk-in shower. Once inside the shower, he propped Max back down to both feet while reaching for the back of his head, meanwhile Max’s hands traveled down Durango’s spine. Under the sufficient glow inside their shower, both lovers returned to the warm brushing of their lips together, while the quiet hiss of trickling water rained down their entire bodies.
Durango rested his forehead against Max’s and smiled. “You’d better not run out on me this time.”
Maxwell shook his head slightly. “Not a chance,” he assured. “You’re stuck with me Durango Adam Walters,” he murmured, rubbing Durango’s naked backside. “Besides, we’ve fucked probably twelve times just since New Year’s Eve.”
“We have indeed,” Durango agreed.
He reached for the black bar of activated charcoal soap from another one of his Canadian friend’s company, Olive Leaf Soap Co., swiping it briskly against Maxwell’s spine.
“And I didn’t go anywhere then, have I?”
Durango continued to lather the suds around to his man’s front side. “Nope,” he whispered, reaching for Max’s left hand and placing it flat against his chest, allowing the thrash of his strong heart beat to thump against his man’s gentle palm. “Not at all, love,” he reiterated with confidence. “I love you, with all this heart.”
The next morning arrived quickly, as the alarm clock adjacent to their bed forced Maxwell to jolt awake from the sweet sleep he’d found himself in. With his left arm slightly tucked under the weight of Durango’s naked body, Max attempted to reach over to quiet the alarm. He couldn’t quite reach, but within moments, Durango’s eyes quivered open.
“Babe, would you get that?”
Durango lifted his left arm around the back of his head and fumbled his fingers until he could find the off switch to the alarm. Maxwell felt rested, but most of all, at a total peace. Once the chirp silenced, Maxwell brushed the back of his right hand against his older man’s clean-shaven cheek. He leaned in closer to smell the sweet aroma of Durango’s light perspiration, after their night full of hot steamy sex. Max stared quietly into Durango’s gaze which caught a subtle glare from the rising sun through the window.
“Happy wedding day, my love,” Durango gently whispered, running his left hand across Maxwell’s backside.
Max smiled. “Happy wedding day, babe. I am the luckiest man in the world.”
***
Within a handful of hours, the entire backyard had filled with dozens of tables and chairs, décor, and a small stage with throngs of musical equipment and instruments. Marilyn and Melanie worked dutifully the entire morning to get things set up, ordering the caterer’s staff around preparing for the perfect day. In a matter of another couple hours, guests would be arriving from different parts of the world to witness Maxwell Florian Williams wed the new man of his dreams, the one whom destiny brought his way to continue watching after him and Lily—Durango Adam Walters.
Both men finished their last-minute preparations as Josiah Baxter found his way upstairs holding a small black velvet box. Maxwell greeted him through the reflection of his full-length mirror in the corner of his walk-in closet.
Max smiled. “Mr. Baxter,” he said, turning his head. “It means so much to me that you both could be here today.”
Josiah reached his arm out and placed his hand on Maxwell’s shoulder. “You’re just like a son, and I’m so grateful we are as close as we are now. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Me too, Brogan would be so happy,” he replied, glancing back into the mirror, straightening his gold silk bowtie.
“Speaking of, where is Durango?” Josiah asked, looking around the room.
Max continued to fuss with his frenzied strands of hair that always seemed to stick out of place. “He’s down the hallway in one of the guest bedrooms,” he replied. “He should, anyway.”
“Fantastic,” Mr. Baxter stated, preparing to walk out towards the hallway. He turned around again, smiling. “I am proud of you, Maxwell.”
Nothing made Maxwell happier, well maybe the fact he was about to marry one of the few nicest guys he ever knew in his life, than the fact his relationship with Josiah and Yael grew into what it did. He never imagined in a million years speaking with them, let alone feeling like one their sons. Maxwell brushed off a small piece of lint from his burgundy dress shirt while taking another quick once-over in the mirror.
In a hushed tone, he began to talk aloud, even though nobody else was in the room. “Thank you for being such a great part of my life. And for continuing to grace me with your eternal protection.”
As he looked at his dapper style in the mirror, Max was happy with the color scheme he and Durango agreed on. Very suitably, their wedding palette consisted of burgundy, gold, and white. First, because of the obvious symbolic deep color to signify Brogan’s strong presence. Second, to display the wealth of each man’s affection for one another. And lastly white tuxedos, because of its inherent qualities of new beginnings.
***
Durango finished tucking in the bottom of his shirt into his pants, before sliding his belt through th
e loops and fastening it together around his waist. As his head lifted back up into the rectangular mirror which attached to a long dresser, he felt the presence of someone approaching from behind, making themselves apparent through the mirror. There behind him, Josiah Baxter stood holding out the small black velvet box.
“This is for you, Durango,” Josiah affirmed, handing it to Durango.
Durango turned around to reach for it with a look of confusion. “Well thank you, sir.”
“I wanted you to have these,” Mr. Baxter continued. “Go ahead, open it up.”
As instructed, Durango lifted the lid on the box, listening to small creak it made as the hinges rubbed against each other. It was apparent this must have had some age to it. The bedroom light glistened into the shine of two gold star shaped cufflinks. Since he’d joined Maxwell back in January, leaping into the Jewish faith, he recognized they were actually formed into the Star of David.
Durango admired them, noting how beautiful they were. He knew that marrying into a small fortune would bring some shiny objects into his world for what would pretty much be the first time in his life, but he never imagined the first of his collection wouldn’t be from Maxwell.
“They’re so shiny, sir,” he said. “Thank you so much.”
Josiah grinned from cheek to cheek. “My son gave me these for Father’s Day, the first year he graduated medical school,” he said. “I’ve had them for many years,” he added, scratching at his temple. “But when Yael and I found out the very thing keeping you alive,” Josiah paused, appearing to keep from crying—and obviously failing.
Mr. Baxter started back up, “is the first gift he gave back to the world upon his exit,” he paused, wiping away the rush of tears from under his tired eyes. “And that man—you—were about to marry the man whom he first married,” pausing again, to take a breath. “I felt like I was about to get a piece of my son back.”
“Awww, Mr. Baxter,” Durango placed the box on top of the dresser, so he could console Brogan’s father. “That is such a nice thing to say,” he replied. “I will take great care of these, Mr. Baxter.”