by N. R. Walker
He blushed and made a face but we danced, and it was fun and crazy and we all laughed as we danced, but a few songs later, Jordan and I were slow dancing, lost in each other’s eyes. I hadn’t even noticed Merry leave, but Jordan looked around suddenly. “Where’s Merry?”
Vee answered. “She thought it was time to go. I ordered and paid for her Uber. She said to say goodbye and you owe her coffee on Sunday. Something about lunch with a velociraptor.” She shrugged, and Jordan and I chuckled and went back to slow dancing.
“I like dancing with you,” he whispered below my ear.
“We should do it more often.”
Half a song later, I tapped Jordan’s arm and pointed with my chin. “Look.”
And there, near the wall of glass stood Angus, Vee at his front with her hands on his hips, and Michael behind him with his arms around Angus’ chest. They were slow dancing, three bodies moving as one. Angus had one hand on Vee’s hip, grinding against her while grinding Michael’s crotch. His head was lolled back on Michael’s shoulder, his eyes closed to the pleasure, and Vee kissed down his neck.
“I think we should leave them,” I whispered.
Smiling, Jordan nodded. “Probably a good idea.”
We grabbed our coats and waved goodbye to Michael, who now had Angus turned around. His smile was his only farewell, and we laughed out into the hallway.
“I don’t think we need to worry about those three for a while,” Jordan said with a laugh.
I took his hand as we walked to the elevator. “Do you miss that? That kind of intimacy? That kind of sexual bond?”
Jordan stopped and met my gaze. “Not at all. Do you?”
My smile was slow and full. “Absolutely not. They can have what they’ve got, and good luck to them. But what we have? Is perfect for me.”
“It’s perfect for me too. And you know what would make it even more perfect?”
“Season two of Deep Space Nine, hot chocolates, and cuddles on the couch?”
Jordan laughed and hit the elevator button a few times. “Goddammit. You shouldn’t speak dirty to me.”
I laughed just as the elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside, hand in hand, and ridiculously, grossly, fucking happy.
Three Years Later
Jordan
Not much had changed. Angus and I still lived together, only now we rented a bigger apartment in Surry Hills, and Hennessy lived with us too. We still had Bruce and Ali, the Siamese fighting fish, though they were now Bruce the Second, and Ali Prince Junior, because apparently fish only had teeny-tiny mortal coils. And Spike still sat on the windowsill, and Hennessy still talked to him every day.
Angus was still involved with Veronica and Michael, and while he was still resisting making the final move in with them, we all knew it wouldn’t be long. He was at their place three or four nights out of every week, and they now considered their marriage—not just relationship—to be between three people. It was kinda weird, but it really worked, and the three of them were utterly, ridiculously happy.
Just like me and Hennessy. My family tolerated him just as much as they tolerated me, but his family had totally adopted me as their own. It was all I’d ever need.
Merry had met and fallen in love with Jodie, and they were sickeningly happy, living together for almost two years, and Merry and I still drove Mrs Mullhearn crazy five days a week.
Hennessy still worked with Michael, still jogged in the evenings, still listened to audiobooks, and he still kissed like a motherfucker. He still ran the Surry Hills Ace Support meetings, and the Soup Crew had established a recipe and garden community group that now met every month at the library.
And life was, somehow, perfect.
We’d spend lazy Sunday afternoons cozied up on the couch, me reading a book, Hennessy would do a crossword, or choose recipes and write shopping lists, or one of his many lists for every little thing. Sometimes he’d pull my feet into his lap, or sometimes he’d rest his head on my chest, and sometimes he’d fall asleep when I ran my fingers through his hair.
But sometimes he’d have to work late, which was totally fine, and I’d have to run the support group at the library. I’d done it a few times without offending or injuring anyone, so when he called me to say he had to work late and asked me to run the group, I didn’t think anything of it.
The usual faces were there, plus a few more we’d collected over the years. There were now eleven regular attendees, and they knew Hennessy and me well. According to the general consensus of the group, we were the poster boys for an ace relationship.
We were just like any other couple. We did everything they did. We held hands, we kissed, we hugged, we argued over cleaning and laundry, and we shared a bed. The only thing we didn’t do was have sex.
Hennessy had tried to explain that there couldn’t have been one ideal ace relationship because everyone had different limits and preferences. Not everyone liked to kiss or hug, and not everyone fought over laundry—because they wouldn’t fold the damn towels wrong like Hennessy does, and chances are they’d pick up the bathmat, for fuck’s sake, because every person on the planet apparently knows how to pick up the damn bathmat, Jordan—but the sentiment was the same.
We were far from perfect. But we were proof it was possible to be happy. To be perfectly happy.
Utterly, pristinely, perfectly happy.
I wouldn’t change one thing.
Not one iota of a thing.
Okay, so maybe I’d change the way Hennessy folds the damn towels, but he may have possibly been correct about me leaving the bathmat on the bathroom floor. Not that I’d ever tell him that. He was incredibly organised and planned everything meticulously, and my attitude of ‘just wing it because what could possibly go wrong’ made his eye twitch. Which was why he had the support group meeting notes all printed out in bullet form, even though the SMART Board PowerPoint presentation was more than adequate.
I stood at the front of the room with Hennessy’s clipboard as everyone filed in. They were early, but the PowerPoint presentation was ready to go.
“You holding the fort today?” Bonny asked.
“Yep. Hennessy’s stuck at work. Any and all complaints need to be written on a twenty dollar note and handed in to me before you leave, thanks.”
That got me a few laughs. I knew these people, and they knew me. They knew I had a tendency to get off track, and sometimes there was nonsensical rambling. But I liked these people. They were my people. My tribe. Where I belonged.
“Okay, so,” I started, opening the clipboard. “Hennessy kindly made notes on a clipboard for me. In point form, and he even noted when it’s a good time to pause and encourage discussions.” I turned the clipboard around and showed them. “See? I’m not overly familiar with the vacuum cleaner at home, but I can operate a SMART Board.”
They all smiled, and I continued to read. “And today’s meeting topic is Can Asexual People Get Married?” I stopped reading. That was a weird subject choice, but whatever. We had discussed all sorts of things at these meetings. I looked at the audience, hit the button that started the presentation, and read the first bullet point that was written on the screen for everyone to see. “Sometimes you drive me crazy.”
I stopped again and frowned. “Wait a minute,” I said. “I think I have the wrong file or something.”
“Here, let me,” Nataya said, getting up and quickly taking control of the laptop. She was some computer engineer wizard at Hogwarts or something, so if anyone could fix it…
The next screen appeared. Sometimes you make me mad.
“The fu…?”
Nataya pressed the next screen. You never pick the wet bathmat up.
“What the…?”
And I know you used my toothbrush that one time, even though you said you didn’t.
“I bought him a new one,” I said, defending my honour. “And it was a different colour, and he is a lying liar who lies.”
But you make me laugh.
I looked at everyone in the room, and they were all smiling at me.
The next screen appeared. And you recommend the best audiobooks.
“I work in a library, genius,” I mumbled. “But that is actually true. He loves audiobooks.”
And there’s a hundred little things…
Nataya pressed the next screens, one after the other.
You give the best foot massages.
You buy the bread I like, even though it’s not your favourite.
You make the bed every day.
I nodded. “That’s true. I don’t think he’s ever made it once.”
Because you’re the last out of it.
I gasped. “I resent that!”
You are the light in my dark, my missing puzzle piece.
Awww. I put my hand to my mouth.
But something’s missing, Jordan.
I blinked a few times. “What?” I looked around the room. My heart rate skyrocketed. “What?”
Breathe, Jordan. Yes it said Breathe, Jordan on the actual fucking screen.
I put my hand to my heart just as Nataya pressed the next screen. There’s something missing from our relationship…
I couldn’t breathe, and I felt sick, and the room was getting smaller and darker, and someone cleared their throat. I turned around, half a second from blind panic setting in.
And there was Hennessy. He was holding his hand out with something in his palm. He smiled at me. “There is something missing, Jordan.”
I shook my head. “No there’s not. Everything is perfect. Unflawed, without fault. No longer upside down, remember? But the right way up.”
He took a step closer and I could see he was holding a book—a small book—and I was scared to take it, but he was giving it to me. “The part that’s missing is inside,” he said quietly.
I looked at the book. It wasn’t a real book. It couldn’t be. It was too small for that particular edition. It had to be a replica. The book was The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley. The 1880s New York printed edition. My all-time-favourite cover of my all-time-favourite book.
“Inside this book? It’s poetry, Hennessy. You know this. It’s my favourite. What does that mean?”
“No, inside the book,” Hennessy said.
Merry snorted from near the door. Merry was here? And Jodie. And was that Angus, and Michael and Vee? Merry opened her hands like she was opening a book. “Inside,” she mouthed.
I opened the book, and the pages were hollowed out, and inside lay a black ring.
“The only thing missing from our relationship is a wedding and the next sixty-something years of our lives together,” Hennessy said, going down on one knee. “Jordan,
* * *
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?
* * *
“Marry me. Say you’ll spend your life with me.”
I put my hand to my mouth and burst into tears as everything clicked into place. The slideshow, everyone arriving early and taking their seats. And then he quoted my all-time-favourite poem. “You planned this? The PowerPoint presentation?” I sobbed, snot and all. “And I didn’t use your toothbrush, I promise, but I do make good coffee, that’s true, and I buy that bread because it’s your favourite. But you’re the light in my dark, and you’re my missing puzzle piece too. When everything was out of place and upside down, you made everything right. Nothing really made sense until you.”
He laughed. “Is that a yes?”
I nodded. “Of course it’s a yes. Holy motherfucking shit, Hennessy,” I sobbed. “You quoted Percy Shelley. Of course it’s a yes.”
Hennessy crushed me in a hug and everyone cheered and clapped around us. I cried into his neck. This man, this perfect, sweet, sweet man wanted to marry me. He pulled me back, wiped my tears, and planted a kiss on my lips. “You just made me the happiest man on the planet.” He took the small book, which looked just like the real thing only a little smaller, turned out to be a ring box. “I had this made, just for you.”
“If you had sacrificed a real book, I would have said no.”
Hennessy laughed, but we both knew it was true.
He took the ring out. A wide black band with a brushed finish and a narrow polished finished edge. It was…
“It’s black to symbolise asexuality and how we met. And it’s titanium, because it’s one of the strongest things on earth.” He slid it onto my finger and the weight of it was new and somehow grounding.
“It’s perfect,” I mumbled through more tears.
We were then, in turn, separately hugged by everyone, and by the time my tears had stopped, I’d made my way back to Hennessy. And after a while, the only people left were our dearest friends.
Angus put his hands on my shoulders. “There once was a guy called Jay.”
We all chuckled because Angus’ limericks were a classic.
“Who was the best friend a guy could ask for.
He deserves to be happy,
and he found that with Hennessy.
So I don’t feel so bad about moving out.”
I laughed because it didn’t rhyme, but then what he actually said made sense. “You what?”
“I’m moving out,” he said quietly, but he glanced to Michael and Vee and smiled. “I’ve put it off long enough.”
“Yeah, you have. But what will I do without you?” I asked, not sobbing at all.
“I’ll be around. We’ll still do pizza and movie nights, yeah? Like on Fridays or something.”
“Yes, please.”
Angus shrugged. “And I think Hennessy wants a kitten, and you can use my room to put your bookcases in and get that library you’ve always dreamed of.”
So of course I started to cry again, and I looked at Hennessy. “You want a cat?”
He nodded. “Mr Collins’ cat had kittens, remember? He showed us the photos?”
“They were cute!” I said. “And we’re going to get one?”
“Well, yeah,” Hennessy said, all adorable and shy-like. “I asked Mr Collins and he said yes, and there’s a little boy cat that’s the cute one and I’ve already named him Lord Byron.”
Again with the tears.
So many tears.
Hennessy pulled me in for a hug and tucked me snug into his side. “How about we all grab a table at Sunan’s?” he said, kissing the side of my head. “We can order bowls of mango fries and bottles of wine. It seems we have much to celebrate.”
“Yes!” I said, trying to pull myself together. “Like the next sixty-something years.”
I took Hennessy’s hand, and surrounded by our very best friends, we walked, laughing out into Crown Street. Together, as I imagined we always would be, into the rest of our lives.
* * *
The End
About the Author
N.R. Walker is an Australian author, who loves her genre of gay romance. She loves writing and spends far too much time doing it, but wouldn’t have it any other way.
* * *
She is many things: a mother, a wife, a sister, a writer. She has pretty, pretty boys who live in her head, who don’t let her sleep at night unless she gives them life with words.
* * *
She likes it when they do dirty, dirty things… but likes it even more when they fall in love.
* * *
She used to think having people in her head talking to her was weird, until one day she happened across other writers who told her it was normal.
* * *
She’s been writing ever since…
Contact the Author
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Also by N.R. Walker
Blind Faith
Through These Eyes (Blind Faith #2)
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br /> Blindside: Mark’s Story (Blind Faith #3)
Ten in the Bin
Point of No Return – Turning Point #1
Breaking Point – Turning Point #2
Starting Point – Turning Point #3
Element of Retrofit – Thomas Elkin Series #1
Clarity of Lines – Thomas Elkin Series #2
Sense of Place – Thomas Elkin Series #3
Taxes and TARDIS
Three’s Company
Red Dirt Heart
Red Dirt Heart 2
Red Dirt Heart 3
Red Dirt Heart 4
Red Dirt Christmas
Cronin’s Key
Cronin’s Key II
Cronin’s Key III
Cronin’s Key IV - Kennard’s Story
Exchange of Hearts
The Spencer Cohen Series, Book One
The Spencer Cohen Series, Book Two
The Spencer Cohen Series, Book Three
The Spencer Cohen Series, Yanni’s Story
Blood & Milk
The Weight Of It All
A Very Henry Christmas (The Weight of It All 1.5)
Perfect Catch
Switched
Imago
Imagines
Red Dirt Heart Imago
On Davis Row
Finders Keepers
Evolved
Galaxies and Oceans
Private Charter
Nova Praetorian
A Soldier’s Wish
Titles in Audio:
Cronin’s Key
Cronin’s Key II