by B. G. Thomas
And Kevin knew.
Wyatt wasn’t happy.
THEY WERE looking at adoptable dogs online—they both agreed that rescuing was the best—because Wyatt needed something to mother—
“I wish we could get a dog from Four Footed Friends,” Wyatt said. “It’s right around the corner from The Shepherd’s Bean. Bean himself got his dog there, you know, and he loves her so much.”
—and then Kevin knew.
Knew more than he knew anything.
Knew more than he knew computers and phones and applications.
Knew that he loved the Land.
Knew that he was monogamous.
Knew more than how much he loved Wyatt.
Wyatt, the love of his life (his very existence), was not happy. No matter what he said.
Kevin let loose of the mouse he’d been using to find them a dog looking for a forever home and swiveled his chair about so that he was facing Wyatt, and he said it. He said, “You’re not happy.”
Bless him, Wyatt looked shocked. “How can you say that?”
Kevin shook his head. “You’re not.”
Wyatt looked at him in confusion. And yet…. Kevin saw the flicker of not-confused. Of—No, I’m not!—and loved him all the more for it. For trying to hide it.
“I’ve never been more happy, Kevin! What could I want more than what I have right now?”
“To live in Terra’s Gate,” Kevin said right away. “To live in that house you were living in. To be around your friends.”
Wyatt shook his head. “You’re all I want!”
“No, I’m not,” Kevin said.
“Yes! I never thought I could have this and—”
“You want it all,” Kevin said.
Wyatt looked at him in confusion. “I… I what?”
“You want it all.”
Dawning came to Wyatt’s eyes. He rolled them in that hilarious way of his. “Oh, Kevin! I know what I’ve got. Believe me. I’m happy.”
“You’re forgetting something, Baby Bear.”
Wyatt smiled. “And what is that?”
“That the Universe gives us what we want, as big as we are willing to dream. That we are the only ones who believe that there are small dreams or big dreams or—the worst curse yet—acceptable, reasonable dreams. You can have it all. You can have whatever you want. As long as you are willing to want it.”
“Kevin?”
“Ask, baby.”
“Ask?”
“And then believe.”
“Believe?”
Kevin smiled, his heart turned to golden light, and he said, “And receive.”
“Receive….” Wyatt sighed.
For a long moment, they lay there together. Then Kevin said, “I’ve checked.”
“Checked?” Wyatt asked.
“Sloan would love to sell us his mother’s house. More than love.”
Wyatt’s eyes widened. “What?”
“And my bosses? I’ve told them, and they’re okay with me not being available at a moment’s notice. Theresa actually got them to admit I’ve spoiled them. And that they can live with me being a plane flight away.”
“What?” Wyatt pulled back in shock. What was Kevin saying?
“It’s not like I work nine to five,” Kevin said.
“What?”
“I called Katherine, too, and guess what? Kitty was a miserable failure. She quit. Treasures of Terra needs a manager. One that has to be there at a moment’s notice.”
Wyatt couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“And how can there be a Fabulous Four without you? I mean, God, Asher is thinking about moving to Los Angeles. Even he says it all doesn’t make sense without you.”
Was Kevin suggesting what he thought he was suggesting?
“I think I should put the condo up for sale.”
At that Wyatt actually had to sit up in bed. “What?” he asked again.
“I mean, with the money I’ll make, we can buy Sloan’s house with cash. The difference in the cost of living is pretty astonishing.”
“What are you saying?” Wyatt asked.
“I want you to be happy.”
This couldn’t be happening.
“And you are not happy here.”
“Yes, I am. I love New York,” Wyatt lied, and didn’t realize he was lying until he said it.
“No you don’t. And you’re not happy. But you’re going to be. And so am I….”
EPILOGUE
Five Months Later
SO IT was the first Saturday of the month, and that meant it was Porch Night, the must-not-miss evening for the FF, aka the Fabulous Four.
Except they weren’t the Fabulous Four anymore, were they?
They still hadn’t decided on a new name.
The original foursome sat around one of the tables that had been set up in Max’s backyard—now Max and Sloan’s since Kevin and Wyatt had bought the house next door. On the table sat a huge vase of flowers that Kevin had grown in the garden that had once been so carefully maintained by Sloan’s mother. It made Sloan so happy that Kevin had taken the garden to heart, and with some help from Max, it had won a neighborhood award. It even contained some stalks of Bells of Ireland, to honor Cauley. It was very special.
But special or not, the vase had been pushed from the table’s center. The Fabulous Four were debating their name.
“The Extravagant Eight?” Wyatt suggested, sure that he should be the one to name them—he had dubbed them the Fab-ulous Four, after all.
“That sounds too much like it’s about money,” Scott argued—of course.
“How about the Remarkable Eight,” Sloan offered.
“‘Remarkable’ doesn’t start with the letter E.”
“So the fuck what?” Asher said. “It doesn’t need to!”
“Tell Marvel Comics that,” Wyatt snapped. “How about Exalted Eight?”
“I’m not sure,” Sloan said. “That sounds awfully godlike. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”
“We’re all gods,” Wyatt returned with a confident toss of his shoulders.
Scott shook his head. “I think we should say frig Marvel Comics—”
Wyatt gasped.
“—and just go with what we like. How about Marvelous Eight.”
“You know, we don’t need a damned name,” Asher interjected.
Wyatt gasped even louder. “Heresy!”
“What is?” asked Kevin, bringing them a tray of refills on their Bloody Marys. All except Asher, who grabbed one of the two meanest, tastiest “virgin Marys” he’d been able to come up with (and oh, how Wyatt had howled at that!).
Asher took it and sipped and nodded his approval. “We’re still trying to come up with a new name for our group.”
Kevin shrugged. “Why not just the Fabulous Four Plus.”
Wyatt stuck a finger down his throat—
“Okay!” Kevin laughed.
—and went on. “The Excellent Eight?”
Scott, Sloan, and Asher nodded.
“Not bad,” Asher said with a raise of an eyebrow. “Not bad at all.”
Peni, Cedar, and Max joined them and grabbed their Bloody Marys, Peni taking one of the other two “unleaded” tomato cocktails. Cedar had just finished a set on his guitar and was done for the day, or at least the afternoon. This party, which had begun at noon instead of the traditional evening and was in a backyard instead of a porch, was going to go all day, so he didn’t even entertain the idea that he might have at least one more time at bat.
An adorable guy was sitting on the high stool now, tuning his own guitar.
“What’s not bad?” Max asked. “The Bloody Marys? I think Kevin did a remarkable job.”
“No,” Wyatt said.
“They’re still trying to come up with a new name for the Fabulous Four,” Peni said.
Max shrugged. “I still don’t see the need—”
“No!” declared Wyatt. “We have to have a name for all eight of us!”
Ma
x ducked his head. “Okay. Sorry!”
“What about The Stupendous Eight,” Cedar recommended.
“No,” Asher said with a moan. “Wyatt says it has to start with the letter E.”
“I don’t know,” Peni replied. “I think you’re missing out on some cool names. The Greatest Eight. The Incredible Eight. The Awesome Eight.”
“No!” bellowed Wyatt, and Peni too ducked his head.
“How about The Super Eight,” Asher said with a Cheshire-sized grin.
“We are not naming ourselves after a string of hotels! We might as well call ourselves the Top-Drawer Eight.”
“What about the Extraordinary Eight?” Peni offered.
They all froze.
“I like that,” Sloan said with a nod—he who had never liked Fabulous Four in the first place.
“I love it,” Asher said. “After all, we’re all pretty frigging extraordinary.”
Cedar grinned.
Scott nodded. “I like it, Peni.”
Peni smiled. “Really?”
“Oh, wow!” Wyatt said in delight. “Oh. My. Gods! Peni! I love it!”
Peni beamed.
“Everybody? Everybody?” asked Wyatt. “What do you think?”
And when everyone—everyone—admitted they liked the idea, the Fabulous Four “Plus Four” had a new name.
TODAY BOASTED quite a turnout. They’d broken the rules—and they’d done a lot of that since love interests had begun to join the quartet—and invited a lot of people. It was a stunningly gorgeous day, the sun high but not too hot, temperature in the upper seventies—surprising when August could reach into the upper nineties and even lower hundreds in Missouri.
Max’s brother Dennis was there with his lover, Armel. Correction! Husband. They’d gotten married while Wyatt was in the hospital. Max’s son was there of course, but sadly on his own. Apparently he and Devin had drifted apart. He was depressed, but Wyatt had hugged him tight and assured him that anything could happen. And he forwarded some wise advice a good friend had given him once. “You’ll make it through this, Logan. A year from now, you’ll look back at this and remember only the good times. And I bet you’ll have a boyfriend who will make you wonder how you could be so lucky.”
Logan hugged him tight at that and thanked him. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am,” he assured Logan. “I know I am. Trust me!”
Earl Beebe, the owner of Café Namasté, had come with a huge tray of vegan food.
A wonderful coincidence had brought Kit Jeffries, the young artist who had grown up a few doors down and made it big and now lived in New York with his husband, Nick St. George (along with a host of brothers and sisters as well as his parents).
“I’m so glad you finally came out,” Kit said to Sloan, eyeing Max. “I always knew you were gay.”
“You did?” Sloan had asked, surprised.
“But I sure didn’t know about Max. I mean—” He raised his eyebrows up and down. “—good way to come out!”
“Hey, hey,” said his handsome bespectacled spouse and put a claiming arm around Kit’s shoulders. “Watch it!”
There were others as well. Bean from The Shepherd’s Bean, along with his dreadlocked lover, H.D. And of course Mara, who worked for Bean, and her lover Elaine, who owned Four Footed Friends with H.D. (who had found Wyatt and Kevin a wonderful rescue dog named Oliver, a dachshund-Yorkie mix who was barking heartily and scoldingly from the other side of the fence for being left out).
“You might as well go get him,” Kevin said. “I know that you want to. He’ll be good.”
And Wyatt grinned and dashed next door.
There were a lot more. Asher’s very good friend Rabbi Dov Kushner, and some of the original cast of the Kansas City production of Drunks, as well as Guy, the director, and his lover, Austin. Austin’s best friend Todd was there with his fiancé Gabe. Todd had brought food as well. He was one of the two top chefs at Izar’s Jatetxea, a Basque restaurant in the city, and said the food was most unusual but utterly delicious.
There were several local Faeries from Men’s Festival—all of whom had visited Wyatt in the hospital. Bunny and Kirk and Michael and Historical Heloise and Gentle Ben and his lover (they were also apparently married now!).
And yes, Gryphon (with a ton of his famous smoked meat) and Saffron with loaves of the most wonderful breads.
Wyatt’s mother (who was wearing a lovely goddess necklace) and Wyatt’s sister—sans kids—had come. But before Wyatt could think of being sad about his missing niece and nephew and the likely reason they were not there, he found out through his mother’s whispers that Wendy had found a lawyer and was about to spring quite the surprise on her husband.
Peni’s mother was there, and a virtual legion of his brothers and sisters, and of course—being Samoan—they brought food as well. Platters of it. Turkey tails and corned beef and Samoan chop suey and boiled bananas (which surprised more than one guest for their lack of sweetness and their much more potato-like flavor and texture).
There was a feast of food, and that wasn’t counting Max’s grilled hamburgers and hot dogs!
Everyone was simply stunned when Cedar’s mother, world-famous rock star Cyan Carrington, arrived. It had caused quite a buzz.
And Sloan’s boss Gary, and then—holy shit!—Peter Wagner as well? The owner of the company Sloan worked for and one of the richest men in the world?
“You know,” said Wyatt. “Something’s up.”
“What do you mean?” asked Scott, who had switched over to rum and Cokes and was busy with one at the moment.
Wyatt waved at the crowd. “I mean, these people!” He gazed at Cyan, grace personified and looking ethereal in her shawls and flowing lavender and aqua and purple skirts.
“She is Cedar’s mother,” Scott said.
“Yeah. But.”
“You don’t think it’s pretty cool?” Scott asked.
“Sure I do.” His brows came together suspiciously. “But still….”
“I think you’re making a big deal out of a pretty damned cool one,” Asher said. “And after all, we’re the Extraordinary Eight. We bring about such commotion wherever we go!”
Scott grinned. “Yeah! We’re magick, right?”
“But look,” Wyatt said, and pointed to where the four friends’ lovers were huddled together. “Look at our men! Something is going on, I tell you!”
With that the huddle broke.
And the four men turned and started their way.
They came and the gathering parted like the Red Sea before Moses’s staff.
Each of their lovers came to them—Wyatt’s husband, of course—and without a word took their hands and led them to the center of the yard. They took them by the shoulders and gently pushed them together in a square, arms touching, backs to each other, each facing out at the crowd.
Cedar cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said aloud. “This was originally Kevin’s idea. But then the rest of us, the ‘Plus,’ said, ‘Hey wait, you’ve already done this. Not fair!’”
“But I pointed out that what I had done hadn’t been at all romantic,” Kevin declared.
Wyatt raised an eyebrow (because he thought Kevin had turned out to be one of the most romantic people he’d ever met).
“Doesn’t matter,” Max said and ran his fingers over his beard thoughtfully. “I mean, if this were all in order and proper, I should have been doing this today before you, especially Kevin.” He pointed. “Because Sloan and I met first, and you went and upstaged us all.”
“Well, there was the practicality,” Kevin said.
“Nonsense,” called out Peni. “Love isn’t, nor ever has been, practical!”
“Amen,” cried his mother, as accompanied by some hoots and hollers and “tell me about it!”
“The thing is,” Max said, “the four of us got to talking, and we decided there was really only one way to do this. One way that no one would be upstaged. And no feelings hurt.”
T
he other three nodded their agreement.
“And so…,” Cedar said.
Then as one, the four men went down on one knee before their loves.
Sloan staggered. “Wh-what?” he said.
Asher’s eyebrows shot up. “Peni?”
Scott’s mouth fell open comically.
Wyatt looked around him and then down at Kevin. “Daddy Bear?” he asked—his new name for Kevin.
Then each of the kneeling men pulled small boxes from their pockets. Boxes that everyone present recognized for what they were.
They opened their boxes simultaneously, as if perfectly choreographed, and four wedding bands sparkled in the afternoon sunlight.
Sloan’s was a lovely simple gold band with a line of diamonds.
Scott’s was white gold with a red-and-steel-blue stone.
Asher’s was gold with silver Hebrew writing.
Wyatt’s was a tangle of rose and silver and gold Celtic knotwork.
“Sloan, Scott, Asher, Wyatt,” their names were chorused. “Would you marry us?”
Then came that silence, the hush through the crowd, the wondering—what would happen next? And God! What if the answer was no? What if there was even a single no?
And with this, the tension was times four!
The answers came next.
“Oh my God, Max.” Sloan trembled and went down on one knee with his lover. “Yes.”
Scott was next. He followed suit and dropped to the ground—and he never told if it was to imitate Sloan or to keep himself from falling. “You mean it, Cedar? You? The gypsy?”
“Come gypsy with me,” Cedar said. “Forever.”
“Oh, yes! Yes, I will!”
Then Asher. He pulled Peni to his feet and kissed him. Kissed him hard and then lifted him high and told him not only “Yes,” but “Hell yes!”
Wyatt put his hands on his hips, threw back his head, and cried out, “Now that’s romantic.” He looked at the crowd. “Does he make up for it, or does he make up for it?” Then he took Kevin’s hand and guided him to his feet. “Eye-to-eye,” he said. “Forever.”
And still there was not a noise. Wyatt looked at the expectant people around him. He rolled his eyes. Then smiled beatifically at Kevin. “Of course, Daddy Bear. Yes, I will marry you. As many times as you’ll have me!”