“We’ll help you out, promise,” Evan said, giving her hand a squeeze. He pretended not to notice Matt staring a hole into the side of his head.
Chapter 1
“I’M SO glad we offered our house to host the rehearsal dinner!” Matt said with all the false enthusiasm of a man carrying other people’s suitcases up a flight of stairs. He was on his third trip, and January’s Happy New Year gift of a shit-ton of ice wasn’t making his life any easier. “And having people sleep here instead of hotels so we can all go to city hall together? That was a stroke of genius.”
Evan pretended he couldn’t hear the complaining. He hid in the kitchen, unpacking the food Serena Abbot Wolkowski had sent ahead.
Because after feeding four children successfully for several years, he was clearly incapable of handling dinner for twelve. (And even if she was concerned about his ability, Matt was here too.)
Wasn’t eloping supposed to cut down on the wedding drama?
Helena wandered in, her expression reflecting a similar question.
“My mother,” she started, red-faced from the cold and wrapped in a man’s black overcoat and two scarves, lips trembling.
Evan put another casserole dish of scalloped potatoes in the refrigerator, which was rapidly running out of space. “Your mother continues to cook like she works in a prison,” he noted, returning to the bags cluttering his entire kitchen.
“My mother has been here for two weeks,” Helena sniffed, pulling off her pom-pom hat and then one of the scarves. “They’ve been here for two weeks, and I swear to God—”
He didn’t let her finish, holding up one hand to stop her tirade, because he could hear the front door opening again and a chorus of happy voices. Vic, Serena’s husband, and Shane, the groom to be—getting along swimmingly—had entered, along with the mother-of-the-bride in question.
“Small wedding. I said small wedding,” Helena whispered, clutching Evan’s arm.
“It’s small,” he soothed, lying as he began untangling the second scarf from around her neck. When he unbuttoned her coat (or Shane’s coat, he suspected), he found his usually well-put-together partner in an oversized NYPD sweatshirt and ripped jeans. “Just you guys, and us and the kids, and your mom and stepfather, and Bennett and Daisy….”
Helena’s wild violet eyes didn’t convey a sense of agreement. “Small,” she whispered again.
Evan pulled her into a hug, patting her back awkwardly. They had an hour before dinner—clearly the wine needed to come out now.
Serena swept in a second later, smelling like roses and motherly efficiency, and kicked Evan out of his own kitchen.
And boy, was he grateful.
After that, Evan relied on his own parenting skill set.
He sent Helena upstairs, in the company of Katie and Elizabeth, for some “girl time”—Katie carried a full wineglass of chardonnay while Elizabeth chirped excitedly about her duties tomorrow as junior bridesmaid.
Check.
Danny got Matt a beer after the last of the luggage was deposited upstairs, and turned on the Knicks game while Evan herded Vic and Shane into the living room and settled them down. Then Evan got another beer for himself.
Check. Check.
It was a little sexist in its division of girl versus boy activities, but everyone needed to get through the next twenty-four hours by whatever means necessary.
Evan tried to unhitch his spine as he sat on the sofa next to Matt, but it was hard to relax when Matt was vibrating like a battery-powered toy. He wasn’t a big fan of houseguests (not after their Thanksgiving Festival of Stress) and didn’t understand Evan’s point of view for allowing this circus sideshow in through the front door.
How could Evan fully explain that his long-standing friendship with Helena outranked all logic when she showed up a few days ago, pushed to the limits of her daughterly patience and calm, and the city of New York was apparently no longer big enough to house both her and her mother? She’d had his back so many times—he had to have hers.
He waited until they were in bed that night, about to go to sleep, to tell Matt they were hosting the rehearsal dinner and everyone the night before the wedding so they could go to city hall together. And prayed his boyfriend found a place in his heart to agree with him.
He had also done some fairly filthy sexual convincing that still made Evan a little uncomfortable. Because he never really classified himself as someone willing to do… all those things. As… payment. Or at least acquiescence.
“You want another beer?” he whispered as Matt cursed out a ref on the television screen.
Matt scowled at the television, but Evan knew it was meant for him.
“Yes.”
Clearly the filthy sexual convincing was going to need to be an ongoing thing.
Evan braved the kitchen, smiling at Serena as she pulled a heaping tray of chicken pieces out of the oven. “Anything I can help with?”
“Oh no, no. Everything is under control,” Serena trilled happily. She had an apron—clearly one she’d brought with her—on over her fancy teal blue dress and appeared to be happily negotiating his kitchen in three-inch heels.
Evan was impressed.
“At least let me set the table,” Evan offered, thinking he’d drop off Matt’s beer and then hide in the dining room until dinner was ready.
“We’re doing a buffet, I think.” She pointed toward yet another bag choking his counter space. “There are dishes and cutlery in there. I’ll show you how to fold the napkins.”
Evan started to fully appreciate Helena’s emotional state the past few weeks.
Danny got roped into the setup of the buffet line, though Evan had to entice him to help by greasing his palm with a twenty. The look he got from Matt said, It’ll take more than a twenty for my cooperation.
By eight Serena was shepherding everyone—including a now relaxed Helena, poured into a dress, heels, and lipstick thanks to Katie, who beamed at her accomplishment—into the dining room.
“I even convinced her not to wear her gun holster,” Katie whispered to Evan.
Vic poured everyone a glass of champagne—even the kids got a splash for themselves— and then Serena cleared her throat.
“I’m not sure I can beat Evan’s lovely speech at our wedding, but I just wanted to let my beautiful daughter and her darling Shane know that we are so, so happy they’ve decided to join their lives together. We wish you love and laughter and joy and all those delicious things we can’t discuss in mixed company…”
“Oh dear God,” Helena murmured as Katie laughed, a little too loudly.
“…and I cannot wait to be a grandma!”
Serena took a sip of champagne to signal her toast was over. Everyone drank, though Shane just poured his share into his beloved’s glass without batting an eye.
They’re going to be together forever, Evan thought. Because that is real love.
ONCE THEY survived dinner, there was a brief rundown in the living room about who would be standing where in the judge’s chambers. The ice storm prevented Bennett and Daisy from joining them that evening, though Bennett swore to Shane he’d make it to perform his best man duties.
And then pay for the hugely expensive postwedding meal afterward.
“You’re on backup,” Shane told Matt, who was trying to watch a basketball game on mute while the rehearsal went on.
“For best-man duties?”
“Yeah.”
Matt considered this. “Fine, fine. But if I have to pay for brunch afterward, we’re all going to Gray’s Papaya—and it’s one hot dog each, no exceptions.”
TO MATT’S wallet’s relief, Bennett showed up at city hall promptly at 8:00 a.m. The continued crappy weather kept most soon-to-be newlyweds home, but the Lowry/Abbot party could not be stopped, with SUVs and quality snow tires. Even Daisy, with her almost-nine-months baby belly, managed to be there.
“No crowd, yay,” she said as she huffed and puffed out of her coat.
Ma
tt helped her settle down on a bench while Bennett was whisked off to sign things. “I can’t believe he let you out before spring thaw.”
“There may have been loud words exchanged,” Daisy said primly. Her red hair was piled on top of her head, artfully tousled in a way that only stars of stage and screen could do, and her green wool dress stretched over her stomach. “I understand his concerns, but honestly—lobby to waiting limo, limo to front of courthouse, where they have elevators,” she huffed, resting her hands on her belly. “We’re not in Antarctica. He was going on like sled dogs were involved.”
Matt sprawled next to her, only partially concerned with keeping his nice wool suit unwrinkled. All eyes would be on the bride (currently pacing in the hallway in a white pantsuit, orchids in her hair) and the groom (currently pacing near the clerk’s window in a fabulous black suit and blue tie), and he just wanted to get through this. “It seems a lot of hoopla for nothing,” he groused.
The elevator opened and a family emerged, with a white-gowned bride and her train taking up most of the oxygen. Daisy and Matt watched her go by in a sweep of flowery smells and excited chatter.
“You’re so romantic,” Daisy said, elbowing him in the side with her tiny arm. “Don’t you want to get married?”
Matt opened his mouth and then closed it. Because his first reaction was to say “I’m already married,” but that was just weird. Wasn’t it? They weren’t—not legally, at least. But weren’t they in all the ways that counted?
He looked down the hall to where Evan was standing, currently negotiating peace between Helena and Serena.
“At this point, I think it’s a bit of a moot… point,” Matt said eventually, pulling at his collar. Because the heating vent was over his head and not because this was making him uncomfortable.
“You’ve been together awhile.”
“We have a mortgage. And wills. I’m the kids’ guardian if, God forbid, anything happens. That’s pretty much everything being married entails except an opportunity for people to give us presents.” He pretended to think, then turned to his boss, stroking his chin. “Wait, what sort of gift are we talking about from the Ames family for our hypothetical nuptials?”
Daisy giggled. “We’re sending Shane and Helena to Monaco for two weeks,” she mock whispered. “And they’re getting the champagne of the month club for a year!”
“Huh. So if we got married, could I, say… get a trip to Hawaii and the bacon of the month club?”
More giggles, until Daisy got the hiccups, which she claimed might make the baby fall out—which made Matt laugh a little too loudly.
The discussion about marriage was interrupted as Bennett had a brief freak-out that perhaps hiccups made contractions, and he wasn’t joking, so Matt found it necessary to rescue Daisy from his overprotectiveness. Evan looked like a guy in need of riot gear as they herded everyone into the judge’s chambers for the ceremony.
Matt stood in back with Miranda, Katie, and Danny. Elizabeth, with her tiny bouquet of red heirloom roses, stood in front of Evan as he and Bennett (the “best folks,” as they had been christened) flanked the happy couple. Serena and Vic handled the parents’ role efficiently, with sniffles and a great deal of picture taking.
Katie took selfies of her and Matt, both of them pretending to cry.
It was over in about five minutes, quick but heartfelt. Shane looked like someone had made him swallow fireflies—full-on glow. Helena, for all the frenetic intensity of the past few weeks, was calm and cool and collected.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Matt whispered to the girls as the couple kissed and everyone applauded.
“You just don’t want to have to pay for a wedding,” Katie snickered quietly.
Miranda rolled her eyes, but she didn’t seem annoyed. Another miracle!
“You and Dad would be next anyway, right?” Miranda asked suddenly. She bit her lip a second later, as if she hadn’t meant to say that, then moved to congratulate Shane and Helena.
Katie whistled after her sister. “Huh,” she said thoughtfully.
Matt shrugged, but Katie linked her arm with his. “It’s a fair question,” she wheedled as they walked slowly toward the collection of hugging people. “Though, I don’t know. You seem pretty married to me.”
He couldn’t help the smile that bloomed over his face. “This is why you’re my favorite,” he stage whispered.
Katie squeezed him tightly. “You hide it well.”
They joined the well-wishers, kisses and hugs all around. Helena gave him a smacky kiss on the cheek—then so did Shane.
“You’re both ridiculous,” he huffed as they walked toward the elevator bank.
“We’re going to need guidance through this whole marriage thing,” Shane teased. “And you and Evan are our role models. Plus, you’re so much older than we are… what wisdom do you have to share?”
“I’m ignoring you.” Matt shook his head at them both.
But he couldn’t ignore the questions suddenly plaguing him as they headed out of the courthouse into the frigid air.
He resolved to talk about it with Evan at some point, but as the day dissolved into champagne and fine dining at Veritas, Matt got distracted by the celebration. The restaurant boasted an obscene wine cellar and venison on the extensive menu, which of course made it Bennett’s go-to choice for “a private brunch.” The fancy restaurant gave their little wedding party plenty of room to spread out over the perfectly decorated dining space—and then everyone ate way too much food.
Matt forgot the marriage talk in the haze of happiness, sitting next to the love of his life, sharing a bottle of Bordeaux and laughter with their friends.
Chapter 2
GRIFFIN DRAKE hurriedly threw clothes in his overnight bag, choosing, discarding, and flinging things around the normally tidy room. He’d been packing and unpacking for almost two years now as he and Jim Shea traveled the world with brief stops in Los Angeles, New York, and Seattle for his work and their friends and family. He had it down to a science.
Packing for pleasure. The absolute bliss of jetting off to a new and beautiful island to settle down on a beach.
But now—now he was trying to breathe through a panic attack as he zipped up his duffel.
“I got the tickets,” Jim called from the kitchen up to the loft bedroom where Griffin was tearing around. “We have about an hour….”
“When are we going to get into Albany? Do we have a rental car?” Griffin answered. He was standing in front of his closet, trying to process what to wear. He spotted his good black suit, suitable for weddings and funerals, and just barely contained a sob.
His father had had a heart attack, just five days after their return to Seattle from a holiday visit.
“I didn’t notice anything was wrong, but he’s working too hard, I knew he was,” Griffin muttered. He grabbed his winter jacket and then his duffel before heading downstairs. “He should retire. He has his pension, he doesn’t need to work.”
Jim—boyfriend, Rock of Gibraltar—stood patiently by the counter, arms open.
He’d already packed, his wheeled carry-on and winter coat neatly stacked near the door. They’d barely managed to entirely unpack or go food shopping or find space for the gifts they’d received. They got back to Seattle and spent all available time visiting with their circle of friends—the Heterosexual Power Cabal, as they were affectionately known—and their ever growing number of offspring.
Jamey Oh, their godson, had a new sister named Kelly, and Ben and Liddy were expecting their first. Nick and Heather decided to outdo everyone by incubating twins their first time around. So while Jim and Griffin were listening to their friends marvel over tiny sneakers and ultrasounds, Richard Drake was collapsing on the floor of his barbershop three thousand miles away.
Griffin went straight into Jim’s embrace, letting his strength and sturdiness ground him as he tucked his face into his boyfriend’s neck.
“I love you,” Jim whispered into Griffin
’s ear, rubbing circles against his back. “We have a stop in Philadelphia; then we’re flying into Albany. The car is waiting for us. Your merry band of sisters are at St. Peter’s with your dad, and we’ll be there before you know it.”
He sniffled against Jim’s shoulder. “I can’t….”
“I know.”
Griffin didn’t have to finish the sentence. He knew Jim understood what he was thinking, even in his stoic-in-an-emergency default state. “Mimi and Terry are expecting us….”
“Already called them. They send their love, as does Jamey. Kelly just screamed in the background,” Jim said softly, kissing Griffin’s temple. “Cab’ll be here in a few. You got everything?”
“Maybe. I guess. I don’t even know.”
“Close enough, then—you can share my toothbrush if necessary.”
Griffin gave him a watery laugh in return. “Now I know you’re just humoring me. I must be a real mess.”
“Yeah, but you’re my mess.”
Jim held his hand in the cab, rubbing circles on the inside of his wrist with his thumb as Griffin tried to regulate his breathing. His sisters—he’d talked to three of the eight—assured him their father’s heart attack wasn’t life-threatening, but he suspected that was just his older siblings taking care of their baby brother. Their mother had died hanging laundry when Griffin was young—no warning, no symptoms of the clot in her brain waiting to kill her. Since then, they all lived on high alert, randomly checking in with one another to make sure they were okay.
And now their father, their beloved and adored Richard, was suddenly lying in St. Peter’s cardiac unit.
Griffin felt entirely justified in his panic.
“I should call Daisy,” Griffin mused, just for the sake of having something to say.
Jim made a soothing sound.
“But I don’t want to worry her with her due date being so close….”
“I texted Matt. He said he’d take care of it.”
Cherish & Blessed Page 10