Swordfall (The Fall Trilogy, #2)

by Devaux, Olivette

  Sean sauntered into the kitchen and pulled two cans of beer out of their brand-new refrigerator. Asbjorn’s apartment insurance money had covered their new furnishings, but very few things were newly bought. Sean had found several estate sales in the Want Ads, and together with Gino’s truck, they drove from house to house, buying a second-hand bedroom set, an expandable, oval dining table with six chairs, and a sofa even Gino’s grandmother would have considered somewhat dated.

  “What will you do for book storage?” Gino asked, eyeing the boxes.

  “Bjorn’s books burned in the fire. I’d like to replace some of them for him.” Sean’s eyes glazed over, thinking. He’d have to find the titles, the authors....

  “Earth to Sean.” Gino grinned, poking him in the ribs.

  “Yeah, for now we have some milk crates and boards....”

  “Very elegant. That will go great with all this old, carved furniture.”

  “It’s just for now.” Sean said, defensive.

  “You’ll be saying that two years from now too.”

  They finished their beers, leaning against the laminate kitchen counter.

  Gino eyed Sean. Something was obviously weighing on his mind. “So....”

  Sean rolled his eyes, unable to watch his old friend beat around the bush. “Just spit it out, Gino. What?”

  “So if you guys are moving in together, have you thought about, you know... tying the knot? You can do that now, at least in this state.”

  Sean felt a wave of crimson rise up his neck and into his cheeks, and he kept his mouth shut tight while he focused on his breathing.

  “Oh you sonovabitch!” Gino punched his arm hard enough to bruise. “You two are gonna marry on the sly and not tell anyone? Is that why I’m here, an’ you won’t have any of your students help you? Crap, man, you have an aikido dojo, a karate dojo, a sword school... you know how many people’s hearts you gonna break?”

  Sean regained his breath. “This isn’t easy, man. It’s not like our families will be jumping for joy.”

  “You don’t know that,” Gino said with a hint of accusation. “Have you set a date yet?”

  Sean clamped his mouth shut in mulish silence.

  “Have you applied for your marriage license?” Gino persisted.

  Sean shot him a sullen look. “Yesterday.”

  “So that means you have about two months to solemnize your marriage, unless you want to waste your fee.”

  Sean got that funny feeling in the pit of his belly, hearing Gino cite the specifics of the process and even using the right words. His thoughts flitted to Casey, whom he thought he’d date at some point. It had seemed like a natural match, Sean dating his sensei’s much younger sister. Once Sean and Asbjorn had become an item, however, Gino made no secret of his courting Casey Burrows.

  Not that Burrows-sensei would necessarily approve. Now Gino, who wasn’t known for his love of bureaucratic procedure, knew all the deadlines and the big words associated with them. Sean had never heard him say “solemnize” before.

  “How do you know so much about all this? Is there something you aren’t telling me?” Sean shot Gino a look laden with curiosity and was stunned to see the blood drain from Gino’s face, his dark ponytail in stark contrast to his pale skin. “Gino? Were you and Casey gonna elope?”

  “What? What am I missin’?” Asbjorn’s tall frame filled the doorframe. He cradled a paper grocery bag in each arm. Leaning into the door jamb, he cut his eyes toward Sean. “Loose lips sink ships, sunshine.”

  “He figured me out.” Sean bit his lower lip, his voice frustrated. As his and Asbjorn’s gazes met, he took note of Asbjorn’s eyes growing darker. It was a look full of want and promise – something to exploit once Gino was gone.

  “So... you and Casey?” Asbjorn asked as he turned back to Gino with a wide grin on his face.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where and when?”

  “Eh... here. We were thinkin’ we’d just slip in and out, y’know?”

  Sean grinned, his face lit up all the way to his hair. “Hey, Gino, we could elope together. The four of us.”

  “Then Burrows-sensei will be mad at you as well as at us.”

  “You can’t possibly not invite him! He’s her brother!” Sean frowned.

  “He won’t come without Mrs. Burrows, who is now six months pregnant and on bed rest.”

  “Oh.” Sean frowned, feeling very much out of the loop. “Should I call him, you think?”

  “No. Private affair. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Sean felt a large hand reach into his pants pocket. Asbjorn fished out his phone and scrolled through the directory, pushing two buttons.

  “Hey, Casey? You haven’t met me, but my name’s Asbjorn and I’m Sean’s fiancée. You have a minute to talk?”

  A MONTH HAD PASSED. During this time, friends had visited and brought house-warming gifts. The usual alcohol was joined by useful household items as well. Margaret brought a rice cooker, which thrilled Sean beyond Asbjorn’s comprehension.

  “You’re Irish!” Asbjorn shook his head. “You’re supposed to want a good soda bread recipe, and you have that awesome lace tablecloth to sully with food droppings. Why the hell do we need a rice cooker?”

  “I’d always wanted to try it,” Sean said with a shrug. “It’s neat, at least from an engineering point of view. And it connects with our martial arts, don’t you think?”

  “Whatever,” Asbjorn said with a roll of his eyes.

  Jeff wheedled George into building a wall of bookshelves and a coffee table. Sheila brought chocolate brownies along with her designer-school boyfriend, who found a lot in common with Jeff. The two conspired to equip the whole apartment with sheer curtains and valances. Because, as everybody knows, a room without curtains just feels naked, as Jeff had proclaimed.

  “LOOK, A PACKAGE,” SEAN said two weeks later while sorting the mail. “From Ireland? And it’s addressed to both of us.”

  Asbjorn craned his neck from behind his laptop, curious. “You sure it’s not just for me?” His voice was only half-teasing.

  “Yeah.” Sean ripped the brown paper to reveal a small box labeled “Codfish Oil Dietary Supplement.” Inside it there was another, much smaller box and a letter.

  “From Aunt Iveragh,” Sean exhaled.

  Dear Asbjorn and Sean,

  My friend Mirien, who made Asbjorn’s necklace, sends her best regards. She was thrilled to be able to make these for you. I wish you the best for the future and I hope I got the sizes right. If the advice of an old woman means anything, please let your families know. They will find out anyway, and you’ll avoid a lot of pain and discord by not excluding them. I don’t see anyone flying over on such short notice, so don’t worry about unexpected company, but I’m sure they wouldn’t want to find out in a round-about way.

  Love always,

  Aunt Iveragh

  “Bjorn?” Sean’s eyebrows rose high enough to be nigh invisible under his shaggy hair. “Loose lips sink ships?”

  “But I didn’t tell her anything! I just tracked down the jewelry maker... she must have told her and they figured it out.” Asbjorn’s face wore a flustered mask. He was guilty of an inadvertent leak. “Just open it.”

  The box contained two golden rings. Their outer surface was chased with Celtic knot-work design, portraying two strands intertwined in an intricate, never-ending pattern. The inner surface was smooth, except for five words:

  Love, honor, cherish, and respect.

  Asbjorn finally found his voice. “Wow. This is much nicer than the designs she has online.” He extricated the smaller ring out of the box and picked up Sean’s left hand. “Here, let’s make sure it fits.”

  Stunned, Sean held out his hand. With the ring on his finger, the reality of his situation dawned upon him with unprecedented clarity. He was about to get married, and he was going to marry... a guy.

  Another man.

  Not Casey.

  Gino was marrying C
asey.

  “This is forever,” he said, hearing his voice quiver the tiniest bit.

  “Yeah.”

  Sean slipped the larger ring on Asbjorn’s left ring finger. Next Friday, he was going to marry this guy he met only half a year ago. There would be no children, only cats and dogs. Their families were likely to be crushed by their lack of progeny. This was forever and there was no looking back.

  Sean wrapped his arms wrap around Asbjorn’s waist. His ever-unruly hair tickled his nose.

  “Hey, sunshine.” He kissed the top of Sean’s head, wrapping his arms around him.

  The thought of waking next to this man for the rest of his life coaxed a smile onto his face. Sean felt Asbjorn nuzzle his hair and imagined it laced with silver in a few decades. His too. Forever didn’t sound so scary after all.

  CHAPTER 16

  The four of them arrived at the City Hall together. The men looked uncomfortable in their discount-store suits purchased just for the occasion.

  “You’ll need a suit to present papers and defend your theses anyway, guys. It’s not as big a waste of money as you think. Trust me and just do it.”

  Sean figured Casey’s word was law on their attire that day. She was, after all, Burrows-sensei’s sister, and his teacher was high on formality. She knew what was proper and expected a lot better than he did, and he didn’t trust either Asbjorn or Gino to care much anyway. He was amused to see her look them over and nod, as though she was satisfied with her handiwork.

  “Here, let me see...,” she said before she yielded to temptation and began tugging on their collars and adjusting their ties.

  “She can’t help herself,” Gino snorted, trying hard not to dissolve into helpless laughter. “It’s like her mother-hen instinct is taking over!”

  Casey raised herself on her toes and pecked his jaw, leaving a lipstick mark. “Lucky for you, I am quite effective. You two would show up wearing your pajamas!” Casey glowed in a pale cream Tahari business suit and heels, even as she tried to ignore the early March wind that bit through their finery. “I wish we had enough money to buy coats,” she said. “I’m not used to wearing this stuff either.” She suppressed a shiver.

  “You’re cold,” Sean accused her. “You worry about our ties and stuff, and you’re freezing in the wind!”

  Sean started to take his suit jacket off, and so did Asbjorn, but Gino beat them to it. “Get away, assholes, she’s mine. I’m marryin’ her and she’s wearin’ my jacket. You two can marry each other.”

  They burst through the rotating door of the courthouse, happy to escape the blustery March weather. The dim, classical interior was warm with dark, polished wood and smelled of central heat and disinfectant. Sean glimpsed at the familiar fresco on the opposite wall.

  “Huh, this is new,” Gino said when they came to the metal detector.

  As they waited in line to go through, Sean thought back to his first time in here, presenting himself to testify before the Grand Jury. It had been the first step toward putting Frank Pettel behind bars.

  “This was here last fall,” he said. He felt Asbjorn reach for his fingers and give them a gentle squeeze. He, too, remembered those tumultuous days. That drama was over, though.

  They made their way to the right office, where they produced their marriage licenses and their forms of identification, and the Justice of Peace conducted a brief ceremony. At the end, he proclaimed Gino and Casey “man and wife.” He proclaimed Asbjorn and Sean a “married couple” and Gino couldn’t help but snort.

  “Will you guys be one another’s husband or one another’s wife? How could one tell?”

  “Shaddap and sign the marriage certificate,” Asbjorn nudged him. Sean smiled. Asbjorn had found that he quite enjoyed his role under Sean, as well as around him, but that didn’t make him a wife, and it was no joking matter to him.

  “Not that it matters, guys, but so much ammunition....”

  “Gino....” Casey’s gentle voice subdued him, and to Sean’s surprise, his best friend stopped trying to insult his husband.

  They exchanged their rings and their vows, had the judge’s secretary take several nice pictures with Casey’s camera, and were told their marriage certificates would be mailed to them once their marriages were properly entered into record.

  Dazed, they stumbled out of the grandiose building.

  “SEAN! ASBJORN!”

  The familiar voice jolted Asbjorn and brought him into the present. He turned to see Don wave from afar. He looked very different in his pinstripe suit as he strode toward them, catching up as fast as he could despite his heavy briefcase.

  “Hey, guys! Haven’t seen you in ages!” He shook hands with both of them, taking in their dark suits and the red roses in the buttonholes of their lapels and Casey’s lovely, red-rose hair piece.

  His lips were firmly shut. “Official business?” he finally asked.

  “Yeah,” Sean said. “These are my friends from Aikido, Gino Gabrielli, Casey Burrows-Gabrielli.”

  “Congratulations.” Don smiled. “Nice of you to stand up for your friends on their special day.”

  “Thank you.” Casey inclined her head.

  Gino nodded at him. “You look vaguely familiar,” he said.

  “Thanksgiving, last year.” Don smiled. “Being dragged to the dinner table in handcuffs would’ve clouded anyone’s memory.” He looked at Casey, then back at Gino again. “Hey, since you guys are into the martial arts too, there’s a party at the Warehouse tomorrow. Would you like to come?”

  All four of them shook their heads.

  “No? Oh.” Don looked crestfallen. “It’s our first one in quite a while. I would be honored if all four of you would join us. We’re starting earlier too – the guys decided to order pizza. Please say yes.”

  Asbjorn met Don’s eyes straight-on. Here was a man whom he had suspected of having designs on his sunshine – and on him – and who was married to Adrian. Lukewarm jealousy warred with the desire to see his friends once again. His conflicting emotions must have shown on his face, because Sean cleared his throat.

  “My schoolwork’s done. I’ll go if Asbjorn does.” Sean even sounded wistful, but Asbjorn didn’t know whether it was because he was ready to socialize again, or because he had some butt to kick after the fiasco of last time.

  “We’ll think about it,” Asbjorn growled. “There’s a lot to do.” He was tempted to leer and send his regards to Adrian just to rile Don, but the ring on his finger made itself known with its unfamiliar shape, and he fingered it instead.

  “Okay then. Hope to see you tomorrow, guys. And you don’t need to bring anything. Just bring yourselves, okay?”

  OF COURSE THEY COULDN’T resist a party at the Warehouse. Both couples were squished inside the cab of Gino’s pickup truck. The space was so tight that their gis and a few bottles of donated house-warming liquor had to ride out back. Asbjorn navigated, trying hard not to interfere with Gino’s driving as he was pressed into him by Sean, who had Casey sitting on his lap.

  They pulled up by the large garage door.

  “Now honk twice.”

  Gino did. The door lifted with a slow creak and Gino pulled in, carefully seeking a place to park. Judging from the number of cars, the Warehouse was packed that afternoon.

  “Looks like the tail end of cabin fever got people out,” Sean noted.

  “More like spring fever. It’s warm again!” Asbjorn laughed.

  “Warm for you, you northern barbarian. It’s still cold for me.”

  Gino cut the engine. “So where is everybody?”

  The parking area was dark, and unlike before, it was separated from the usual, open space by dark sheeting.

  Asbjorn hoisted the box out of the pick-up truck. “Anybody home?”

  Eerie silence met them. They looked at one another.

  Sean approached the black curtain. “Looks like something from a theater.” He walked alongside, locating a split in the fabric. “I think I found an entrance right
here, guys.” Light spilled across his face as his long-fingered hand parted the material.

  They entered.

  The fighting ring was gone.

  A crowd sat around small, round tables. They were all dressed up, looking as though they were waiting for something to happen. A faint smell of garlic and cheese carried on the air.

  Flowers.

  Balloons.

  Real tablecloths.

  They stood there, all stunned and trying to take it all in. What in the world...?

  A thin, slight man wearing a tuxedo, with dark bushy eyebrows and black hair worn somewhat longer than currently fashionable, rose from one of the tables and stepped forward. “Welcome to your wedding reception, Casey. Gino. Sean. Asbjorn.”

  “David!” Casey blanched.

  “Sensei....” Sean stepped forward and halted, not knowing what to say.

  “LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS, Asbjorn,” Sean repeated for the ninth time, enjoying the look of utter frustration on his husband’s face.

  “It’s your Aunt Iveragh’s fault! She ratted us out to my parents.” Asbjorn rolled his eyes in disbelief, still not quite coming to grips with the sight of Margaret Verbosa and his mother in amicable conversation. Ulrika and Ole hadn’t made it due to their school schedules and, out of the blue, Asbjorn felt a pang of regret at his step-sibling’s absence. He lifted his glass to his stepfather and they clinked, toasting yet again.

  “Good thing I remembered the martial art Sean practices, and that he is from San Diego,” Olaf said. “I can’t tell you how many aikido schools there are in San Diego. I must have e-mailed over a dozen of them before anyone recognized Sean’s name.”

  Asbjorn sighed.

  “You realize our marriage won’t be recognized in most states of the union? Or even in most countries, right, Olaf? I love seeing you and Mom, actually, but... I’m sorry about all the trouble. I didn’t think this would have been that significant to you.”

  Olaf seared him with a withering look. “I am appalled that you would think so. This better be as important to you as though it was recognized by the whole world, Bjorn. If you think this is just some pretend, second-class marriage because you two are guys, think again. You’ll end up in divorce court within two years.”