Christmas Angel
Page 16
Dean looked surprised…maybe even ashamed. He studied the rug as if the pattern fascinated him.
“You’re right. Jay, I went to her to discuss…my being bisexual.” Dean’s gaze flickered as if he searched Jay’s expression. “I’ve not wanted to face up to it.” His gaze wandered as he scanned the room.
The odd sensation came over Jay that Dean regarded the rest of the house as if he could see through the walls.
“What we have…I can’t ask for more. I didn’t want to burst the bubble. I was so…terrified I would find I’d made a mistake. That I wanted women more, or would one day. I didn’t want to question why I was with you. I didn’t want to question what bisexuality meant.”
“And now?”
Dean took several seconds, maybe a minute, to answer. “To quote my therapist, I guess as many of us fit categories making us the same, we’re also individual. I’ve learned every relationship, straight, gay, lesbian, trans, bi, and whatever you care to label, are all different. I learned many bisexuals settle on one sex because they fall in love, and if they lose that love, whether through breakup or death, they leave themselves open to loving either sex again. I can’t imagine loving someone else but you, but then I guess no one ever does, not while they’re in love. I learned to love someone involves risk, no matter how certain anyone is. But in a way the risk makes the chance of success even more worthwhile.
“If…” Dean took in a breath so deep, he appeared to shudder. “I can’t imagine life without you but if that ever comes true, I don’t know. I don’t know whether I’d end up with a woman or a man. Maybe not anyone, but if I did, it’d be a woman, I think, but I don’t know…” He looked up, stared at Jay. “Because I’m bisexual, and I think, maybe that doesn’t need to be as scary as it seemed to me a few weeks ago. I’m not saying I have all the answers, but I can admit that now. And admit I want to learn more. I’m willing to explore what it means. For me. For you. For us. The only thing I have no doubts about is my loving you. I guess part of me may always want sex with a woman, but not all relationships are about sex, or just sex.”
He took a step closer, hand going to a pocket. “My wanting a woman won’t be a problem because I choose you. I love you. I need nothing else. I want no one else. Which is why…” Dean pulled his hand back out, making Jay’s heart lurch.
The box was blue. The ring glittered. Dean, on one knee, came all the way up to Jay’s chest. He made Jay feel short. He made Jay tall. Though he struggled to, Jay failed to keep the smile from blooming across his face.
“I love you. Will you marry me?”
Jay didn’t know what he would say until he’d already said it. “Yes, a hundred thousand times over.”
Epilogue
“For goodness’ sakes. Stop fidgeting. Here, let me.”
Dean’s father slapped his hands aside and set to adjusting his tie. He glanced into his son’s eyes, gaze examining in a way that made Dean want to scarper.
“I wasn’t this nervous marrying your mother.” The ensuing pause, though short, carried weight. “Are you sure you want to do this, son?”
Did his father not want him to? Stomach plummeting, Dean fought a wave of sickness. He could withstand prejudice from almost anyone, but not his father. His father must have read something of his awareness in his expression because the older man clamped his strong grip either side of Dean’s biceps. The man might be smaller but the none-too-gentle reminder brought home how strong George Chapman still was.
“If this is what you want, I’m happy for you. Jay’s a good bloke. Just need to know he’s the right choice for you.”
“He is, Dad.”
“Then you got no reason to be nervous.”
None? What if it rained? What if the car fetching Jay here broke down? What if Dean flubbed his lines? Or if someone objected?
Crap. He’d curled his right hand into a fist at the thought. Must be love.
“Did we do well?” His father gave a tilt of his head as if to encompass everything.
“You can stop worrying.”
The wedding venue, the most contentious topic of the preparations, exceeded Dean’s expectations. Jay was happy to get married here. Dean…he didn’t care, would have married Jay in the rear of the garage as long as they both said I do. Giving Jay a wedding such as this, though…The smile on Dean’s lips was genuine. Making Jay happy made him happy, and he’d never envisioned two men being able to marry in such a magnificent setting.
As his father walked off, Dean took another quick glimpse around. Out of the list of licenced possibilities, they’d agreed to search for a place approved by the local authority, which could be a hotel. Jay had axed marrying in Hampton Court. Dean winced at the unintended pun though the objection had been Jay’s and his own. Why Jay’s mother had thought they’d want something that grand he’d never know.
George Chapman had tracked down their chosen hotel, for its gardens, and placement—London-based, licenced for same-sex marriages and central enough for every attendee to make the journey.
“The ribbons are a disaster, dear.”
Dean looked at his mother as she broke in on his thoughts.
She rolled her eyes. “They’re meant to be yellow. They’re more lime green to me.”
While the ribbons adorning the backs of the chairs queued up for the ceremony had a green tint, they were far from lime. “They’re fine, Mum. Jay will love them, too.”
She tutted and walked away, leaving Dean shaking his head. As if the colour of a ribbon mattered on a day like this. Had though; Dean and Jay had both objected to the pink ribbons on the dining chairs. Now the central tables for the married couple and immediate family were all white, from the chairs and tablecloth to the flowers. Those on the fringes were grey with peach table arrangements. The tables stood in a circular courtyard surrounded by gardens. Italianate cypress trees, ferns, and bright flowers made him think of Madeira. Ornate metalwork, elaborate benches, mosaic tiled flooring, and centrally placed bar added to the Mediterranean ambiance. After the wedding inside, the reception would take place in the courtyard. Following the meal, guests could wander and continue partying in the gardens. The only thing missing was a pool. The weather co-operated, though Dean squinted up at the sun a few times in suspicion and prayer.
“Stop wool-gathering. You’re on.”
“You sure you want to do this, Dad?”
“If Jay’s dad can give him away, I can hand you over, too.”
They’d decided the fathers could be joint best men and both give their sons to each other. The mothers could have got in on the act, too, but Jay’s mother hated standing up in front of anyone and both women said they’d be too busy crying from happiness.
People sat in rows before the head table supporting a huge arrangement of white and yellow flowers. Dean stood to one side, itching to check his bow tie once more. Who could blame him? He’d never worn one. Was it worth it? Did he look handsome?
God, if he looked anything like Jay…
His lover walked in, gaze taking in the room in a fast scan, settling at once on Dean, spearing Dean through, pinning him. Jay in a tux was delectable. His shorter hair bounced as he walked. Jay’s father whispered in his son’s ear. Whatever the man asked received a nod.
Dean became aware he’d been listening to music, not the wedding march, but a variation. Brian had arranged for the composition, making it his gift. Said he and April would use it next.
Six months before and they wouldn’t have been able to get married here, the hotel holding out against offering same-sex services. Hadn’t put Jay off one bit.
The conversation ran through Dean’s mind as if it occurred the day before, not several weeks past. In Jay’s words, “Shun them and they get their wish.” He’d kissed Dean long and hard. “Let’s make sure they make our ceremony perfect and show them what love is all about.”
“How do we do that?”
Jay had winked. “We come back for a special anniversary. Maybe twenty-five
. Thirty. Maybe fifty.”
At their age, fifty might push their chances but Dean wanted to try. Fifty years with Jay would fly.
“In ten minutes, you’ll be a married man.”
Was his father giving him a warning or congratulating him? Dean didn’t care. Nothing could deter him. Nothing. Fifty years with Jay would never be enough.
“I love you,” Dean whispered when Jay reached his side, to which Jay replied, “Of course you do.” His gaze danced while he said it, the declaration a mickey take of Dean’s oft-arrogance. Amazed to think Jay could joke at a time like this, Dean’s eyes grew moist with more emotions than he could decipher or separate.
There might as well be no one else in the room, as Jay returned his gaze and said, “I love you, too.”
A short while later, Jay made Dean the happiest he’d ever been by marrying him. As Dean said I do, he made a separate, silent vow. This year they would spend Christmas Day at home, and start their own traditions. They would, from now on, adorn the top of their tree with an angel.
THE END
ABOUT SHARON MARIA BIDWELL
Sharon was born in London on New Year’s Eve. She has always followed many creative pursuits. Eventually, her love of books and a wild imagination compelled her to focus on writing. Her work has appeared steadily in both print and electronic publications. Her short story “Bitter and Intoxicating” was snapped up for inclusion in the anthology Red Velvet and Absinthe. This compilation, edited by Mitzi Szereto with a foreword by Kelly Armstrong, was designed to evoke the romantic ethos of classic Gothic fiction with a serving of eroticism. With a repertoire of tales and a love of cross-genre writing, it surprised everyone (including herself) when Sharon branched out into erotic romance. These works have been critically acclaimed and often described as “deeply passionate.” Sharon’s worlds are vivid, unexpected, and sometimes intensely magical. Sharon writes whatever her warped mind can come up with and is quite capable of writing something darker, grittier, and even outright twisted. She was propelled into the Steampunk universe of Space, 1899 and beyond, once shared a publisher with the creator of Roger Rabbit, and has lived in a house with a Harry Potter cupboard under the stairs.
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