Some Like It Hopeless (A Temporary Engagement)

by Megan Bryce

  Christian hadn’t even blushed, and Shane thought they might get so comfortable with each other they’d be like an old married threesome.

  Christian watched her go inside and said, “She loves you.”

  “Cassandra? She does. And you could be just a little bit jealous about it.”

  “I am. Not because you love her back, but because I wish I had that myself.”

  “You can. She’ll love you, too. Eventually.”

  Christian laughed. “No, she won’t. But I don’t need her to love me like that. Because I have you. You love me like that.”

  Shane blinked and Christian said, “You love me no matter what. I could tell you that I only ever want to be friends and what would you do?”

  “I would tell you good luck with that.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I would be your friend.”

  Christian smiled at him. “I don’t know what kind of water you two drank when you were kids but I’d like some. I’d like to be a part of it, a part of you.”

  Shane put his head in his hands. “This is my punishment. For Cassandra. For loving her, for her love. I couldn’t give her everything she wanted, and now you can’t give me everything I want. Stuck in the hopeless friend zone forever.”

  Christian put his hand on Shane’s thigh. “Shane. I don’t want to be your friend.”

  Shane looked at the thigh on his hand. At the physical contact. At the first time Christian had instigated.

  Shane lifted his head out of his hands and when his eyes met Christian’s, Christian said, “I’m a good Mormon gay boy. That’s who, what, I am. I believe in love for time and all eternity, and maybe others don’t believe in it for me, but that’s what I’m offering you. I don’t want a fling with you; I want forever. I want to get old and gray with you. I want to believe that we’ll be having brunch together for the next sixty years, and then for a few millennia after that.”

  Tears prickled Shane’s eyes but he said, “You do take the long view.”

  Christian said, “I’m asking you to marry me, Shane.”

  Shane’s bottom lip wobbled and he whispered, “But you’re not on your knees.”

  Christian smiled, and went to his knees. Christian held his hands out, and when Shane gently grabbed them, Christian said, “Shane, I love you. I love everything about you. I love me when I’m with you.

  “I love how fearless you are. How loyal. I love your flamboyance and your optimism. I love that you haven’t given up on me.”

  Shane shook his head. “Never.”

  “I didn’t think I would ever have this. I didn’t think I could; I didn’t think I should.” He grinned when Shane grimaced at that hateful should.

  Christian said, “I don’t think this will be easy. For me, for you, for my family. But it will be worth it.” He brought Shane’s hands up, kissed them. “Will you marry me?”

  One tear spilled over, and then another.

  Shane opened his mouth, and for the first time in his life, he was speechless. He sat there, crying, looking down into eyes that loved him. Eyes that were asking him to marry him, eyes that wanted to be with him forever.

  He cleared his throat, because he wasn’t going to ruin this moment by not being able to say yes.

  And then he held up a finger, and cried just a little bit more.

  He hadn’t prepared for this. No daydream, no fantasy, had involved Christian on his knees, proposing.

  And Christian just waited. Patient as the day.

  As patient as Shane had been with him.

  Shane said, “I love you.”

  Christian nodded. And waited some more because that hadn’t been a yes.

  Shane cleared his throat. “This is never going to happen again. I want to enjoy it as long as possible.”

  Christian scooted on one-knee toward him. Smiling. “Is it going to eventually be a yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good enough.” He rose up, placing his hands on either side of Christian’s face and pecking his lips. “Love you.”

  Shane pulled him down onto his lap and kissed Christian for real.

  A flash in the dark blinded them as Cassandra took a picture, capturing that moment forever.

  She waved the camera at them, smiling, and said, “Surprise.”

  Christian called his sister the next day. He could hear his nieces and nephews playing in the background. Loudly.

  And he knew he’d never have that. No kids, when he’d been told his whole life that’s what a family was. When that’s what he’d wanted his whole life.

  He listened to his sister talking excitedly, telling him about school events and milestones.

  When she paused, asked him what he’d been up to, he said, “I’m getting married.”

  Lynell yelled, “What! To who?”

  Christian took a deep breath. “His name is Shane.”

  There was a long pause and Christian closed his eyes. He finally said, “Are you surprised?”

  “. . . No. A little.”

  “Mom and Dad will be.”

  “They’re going to be shocked. But they won’t be surprised, Christian.”

  He blinked. He’d tried so hard to hide it when he couldn’t. He’d tried to be something that he wasn’t.

  And everyone had always known.

  The knot that had sat in his stomach for the last twenty-eight years loosened.

  Everyone already knew. How could it be so wrong to be. . .

  How could it be so wrong to be gay when everyone could know just by looking at him?

  He turned to Shane, who was sitting on the kitchen counter swinging his legs and eating guacamole out of the bowl with his finger. Shane watched Christian. Just let him do what had to be done.

  Christian smiled at him, and Shane smiled back.

  Lynell said, “Do you want me to tell them first?”

  “They’re not going to come. I already know that. But I thought they should know.”

  “I’ll come.”

  Tears sprang into his eyes and he turned away from Shane.

  He opened his eyes wide, blinking rapidly and saying softly, “Thank you, Lynell. I would like that.”

  Cassandra didn’t call Brady.

  It had been almost a month since he’d walked out. And hadn’t walked back in.

  She wasn’t sure if that’s what she was waiting for. For him to walk back in.

  She wasn’t sure why she was waiting at all.

  Except maybe just putting it off as long as possible because, like ripping off a Band-Aid, it was going to hurt. Whether it came off slow or fast, she knew whatever happened next would hurt.

  She flipped through bridal magazines with Shane. Picked colors with Christian, because he could not be left alone with that decision. They didn’t want to end up with black and white table cloths. Or plaid.

  Dear God, not plaid.

  And every time she got into her little peach lady, she thought of Rodrigo and the pool. Thought of the penthouse views and the air tub.

  Thought about the long drive to Brentwood that had become second nature. And Sunday evening meetings followed by a long drive.

  She didn’t think about sleeping next to a hot body who couldn’t sleep without her. She didn’t think about eating off one finely built chest.

  She didn’t think about the sex.

  Hardly ever.

  Cassandra drove to the cemetery and wiped two spotless gravestones. Put flowers in their holders.

  She had thought that she had something to say, or to ask, but it was so quiet that she just stood there. And listened. And didn’t interrupt.

  She drove to Calabasas and a boxy modern house. With a pool that she’d never taken advantage of and a “For Sale” sign sitting on the front lawn, and her heart knocked in her chest.

  She slammed on the brakes, lucky there was no one behind her, and stared at the sign.

  For sale?

  She parked her car in the drive and just sat there, wondering
what the hell a “For Sale” sign meant.

  She got out, wandering around the outside of the house, peeking in windows.

  And got angrier and angrier.

  Because he’d just left her. Knocked her off her ass and left her for a month without a word.

  She’d told him she loved him. It wasn’t a four-letter word. It wasn’t a life sentence. . .

  Okay, with her it kind of was.

  He wasn’t getting rid of her.

  She’d thought about it.

  And he wasn’t getting rid of her.

  Brady was in his office when he got a call from the front desk, saying there was a situation at valet.

  “Can’t Rodrigo take care of it?”

  “Rodrigo’s the situation.”

  That was new, and Brady felt a tug of curiosity. . .that quickly died.

  “Call security.”

  “Sir. . . I think you need to take care of it.”

  Brady looked at the phone. “Who is this? Are you new?”

  “No, sir. I’m not new, and there’s a situation at valet that you need to take care of.”

  And then whoever was calling from the front desk hung up on him.

  Brady banged a fist on his desk, and then did it again for good measure before pushing himself up and stomping out of his office.

  He didn’t even look to see if a guest was checking in, just turned the corner, roaring, “If there is a problem in the hotel. . .”

  No one was paying attention to him. They were all looking out the front windows at Rodrigo, arms folded, jaw jutting, facing off against Cassandra. Who was jabbing her finger in his chest and shouting.

  She was thin. A good fifteen pounds lighter than when he’d left her. Her hair was a little longer, pulled back in a short ponytail instead of fashionably spiked.

  Brady’s heart thumped in his chest and he just stood watching with the rest of his staff.

  She’d decided what she was going to do about her love.

  She’d decided, and he didn’t want to know.

  He’d known she would come tell him. No matter what she decided, she’d come tell him because she didn’t believe in hiding anything. Good or bad, she’d put it out in the open so it wouldn’t fester.

  A very quiet voice said behind him, “Sir? Aren’t you going to stop them?”

  He wasn’t. He was going to wait right here, half-hoping that Rodrigo could keep her out of the hotel.

  Except Rodrigo raised a hand and Brady was running. Across the lobby and out the door before it registered that Rodrigo wasn’t going to hit, just jabbing his finger at the little peach lady.

  Brady burst through the doors, skidding to a stop, and Cassandra stopped yelling. She looked at him, at the suit size of muscle he’d lost in the last month and her jaw dropped.

  She said, loud enough for God and man to hear, “Are you using again?”

  “No.”

  “ARE YOU USING AGAIN?!”

  He said, “No.”

  Her eyes searched his, and she flicked her fingers at his shirt. “Off.”

  “Let’s go inside.”

  “Take it off, Brady. There’s no point in going inside if you’ve started using again.”

  He stripped his shirt off.

  In front of his hotel and his staff. His eyes never left hers as he undid his tie and handed it to Rodrigo. One button, two, all the way down to his pants. And he never dropped her eyes.

  She studied each arm carefully. Smelled his breath. Stood on her tip-toes, grabbed his jaw, and looked up his nose. Measured his pupils.

  The sun beat down on his shoulders, her fingers stopped digging into his face and started cradling, and he wanted to close his eyes and feel this moment.

  Feel this moment, when he was claimed by a woman who would never let go. A woman who would never let him give in.

  She let go of him and turned to Rodrigo for a long moment. “I’m sorry.” She held her hand out. “It won’t happen again.”

  Brady took his shirt and tie back. “What did she say, and how much of a raise is it going to take?”

  Cassandra didn’t look at Brady, just kept her eyes on Rodrigo and her hand in the air. “I made him worry about you.”

  Rodrigo said, “Won’t happen again?”

  She shook her head, and he shook her hand, nodding. “Now, I’ll go park your little peach lady.”

  Brady whispered, “It’s not going to happen again?”

  “Let’s go inside,” she said and Brady shook his head, tipping his head up a little.

  “Out here. In the sun.”

  “In front of your staff?”

  “It’s love, Cassandra. Nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to hide.”

  She turned to him, blinking, and said, “. . .Love?”

  “That’s what you came to tell me, right? That you love me, no matter what.”

  She whispered, “No matter what.”

  He wished it didn’t have to be like that. That he could give her what she wanted, but he couldn’t. He said, “I can try to get it undone. It’s possible, at least.”

  “You checked?”

  He nodded. He’d checked. Didn’t know how he could survive having another child but for her, he would try.

  She linked her fingers through his and smiled at him.

  He said, “You may not care about the why, but I do. I want to hear it.”

  “I love you because. Because I crawled into your arms and liked being there.”

  Brady shook his head. “No, that’s not it. I love you because I found home. Because my heart saw in you someone who knew hurt. Someone who knew how to stand back up again and again. To cling to what was good and say fuck you to the legion of hurts. To say what’s next.”

  She stepped in to him, sliding her arms around his waist and murmuring, “I missed this. I missed you. I missed being with someone who’d died, someone who’d killed what he loved most in the world. And hadn’t stopped loving them. Someone who’d learned the hard way how not to quit. Because life is hard.”

  He said, “Life’s a bitch. What’s next?”

  “Oh, I like that.”

  He rested his chin on her head, hugging her to him. “My wife wasn’t perfect. You’re not second best. I want you to know that.”

  She squeezed him. “No, not second best. Just. . .alternate reality. Just if life was kind, we would be with other people, but it’s not. And we’re lucky to have each other.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t like alternate reality, either.”

  “If your wife was here would you be choosing me?”

  He closed his mouth and she chuckled, “We’ll just call it permanently temporary.”

  “As temporary as a heart attack.”

  “My one love, part b.”

  He tipped her chin up, stopping her mouth with his own. He said, “How about just love. Also.”

  “Our also love. Our secondary love.”

  He kissed her again, silencing her.

  And Cassandra said against his mouth, “How about just love. The end.”

  Epilogue

  Christian pulled out the bottom of the chair, turning it into a bed. He fluffed a pillow. He folded a sheet just so and tucked it in.

  Cassandra closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch him anymore.

  Brady sat next to her on the hospital bed, holding her hand in his big one and saying quietly, “You going to be okay here?”

  Shane said, not so quietly, “The real question is, is Christian going to be okay with her?”

  Christian looked up from his sheet. “I’ll be okay. She’s trapped in that bed.”

  Cassandra grinned. She was trapped in this bed. Her legs were encased in compression sleeves to keep her blood from clotting. And while her legs were no longer numb, she was pretty sure she didn’t want to stand up.

  She could cross c-section off her list. Didn’t need to do that again.

  She said, “We’ll be okay.”

  Shane rocked Tabitha Cassan
dra Johnson Wilder in his arms and watched Christian get ready for the first night shift. When everything was just right, they put Tibby in her bassinet and rolled her out into the hallway for an evening stroll through the maternity ward. To look and be looked at in her pink plaid onesie.

  Cassandra sighed when they left and Brady maneuvered her pillow into a more comfortable spot.

  She said, “You going to be able to sleep without me?”

  “No. I’ll unpack some boxes. I might have us moved in by the time you come home.”

  She looked around the sterile hospital room, at Christian’s makeshift bed. “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to sleep without you, either. Except for these drugs they’ve pumped into me. They might knock me right out.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  He put his head down next to hers on the pillow and Cassandra whispered, “Are you going to hold her?”

  Brady shook his head but Cassandra knew he would. When they were alone with the baby, just the two of them, and he could remember when he’d held his son. He could cry with no one but her to see.

  Cassandra would cry a little with him.

  And then he would hold Tibby again and look in her eyes and not remember his son. He would only see her and he would fall in love with her.

  He said, “I don’t know how you’re going to be able to give her up.”

  “I’m not giving her up. Aunt Cassandra and Uncle Brady live right down the street from her. I’ll be the go-to babysitter. I’ll see her first steps, hear her first word. I’ll have after school snacks, Sunday afternoons lazing by the pool. I’ll be who she sneaks off to after fights with her dads. I’ll hear all the crazy boyfriend stories and she’ll call me when she gets her first fender-bender.”

  He smiled. “I can see that.”

  She grinned. “I couldn’t have children with Shane. A hot, glistening turkey baster was as close as I could get. And by the way, you wielded it so expertly I’m still coming.”

  He chuckled. Then sniffed.

  She said, “I can’t have children with you. Why do I always fall in love with men who can’t give me what I want?”

  Some things couldn’t be undone and his vasectomy had turned out to be one of those things. So Cassandra had done what she always did. Be happy with what she could have.