“Other way,” he directed, toward a private office at the opposite end.
“No, the clerk is—” Evan started, but Abe waved him off.
“Other way.”
Abe went around them, a jerk of his head directing them to follow.
Matt gave Evan a look. Evan shrugged.
“I’m not going to argue with him, are you? I have a feeling he knows how to use that cane.”
ABE KLEIN worked for the NYPD for over thirty years.
Playing politics wasn’t a skill he’d mastered, but a high arrest rate and good reputation made him a valuable asset to the department. It also earned him the respect of everyone from clerks to captains, who liked having him on their side.
He also never shat where he ate—which meant no one in the NYPD or court system could ever accuse him of sleeping with their wife, sister, or girlfriend.
In addition to his pension, Abe had retired with a pocketful of favors of the “you call me if you need anything” variety.
At the end of the hall sat the office of Miriam Burns Kelly, city clerk and the daughter of a dear friend of Abe’s. A quick phone call last night to Buddy Burns, and after the bullshit session on the mayor being an idiot and a rundown of who died since last they talked, Abe had assurances that Miriam could help his friends “quietly,” no questions asked.
As far as wedding gifts went, it wasn’t china, but Abe knew the boys would appreciate it.
“MIRIAM!” ABE said, kissing her on the cheek after they were ushered into her small office.
Standing awkwardly—and still not knowing what was going on—Matt gave Abe the visitor chair and leaned against the closed door with Evan by his side.
“So nice to meet you,” Miriam said, extending her hand to first Evan, then Matt. “I wasn’t sure what the need for secrecy was for, but now I get it.” Her dimples and warm smile were in contrast to the severe blonde bun and serious square glasses. “Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure.”
Matt felt a mild panic as he exchanged glances with Evan.
Abe turned in the worn beige chair to regard them with a smug smile. “I called in a favor. Miriam is going to take care of this personally so less eyes get a pass over your private business.”
A lump formed in Matt’s throat. Abe Klein was the man, just like he’d always known.
“Thank you,” Evan said sincerely as Matt gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.
“And just so you know, I’m glad to arrange something private with Judge Wernicky. He does most of the weddings,” Miriam said as she headed back to her desk. Piles of paper covered every surface, with memos and a large Marvel superhero calendar on the wall. A Thor bobblehead on her computer nodded as she sat down.
“You have all the paperwork? And the check?” Her tone went all efficient business.
Evan pulled an envelope from his inside jacket pocket as Matt went for his ID. They were prepared—overprepared, even, with documents that weren’t even on the website.
Miriam pursed her lips as she worked, handing them each a clipboard with paperwork to fill out, including Abe. The scratching of pens filled the room.
To lighten his own overly emotional mood, Matt pretended to look at Evan’s answers, like he was cheating on a test. Evan pulled the clipboard out of his line of sight before rolling his eyes.
“Trying to steal my Social Security number?” he asked in a whisper.
“I wanted to see what you put down for number seven.”
“Stop it.”
“Wanna play naughty student and stern headmaster?”
Evan hit him with the clipboard.
“Okay, looks like everything is in order,” Miriam said as she read over everyone’s forms. “Give me a few minutes to process everything.”
Abe shifted in his chair, regaling Evan and Matt with a twinkle in his eye. “You two should have thought of this. Nobody owes you nothing?”
“Most of the favors I could call in are from, uh… former associates with whom I shared some personal time. And that seemed, you know, weird,” Matt demurred, avoiding Evan’s gaze, which burned into the side of his head.
Miriam snorted from behind her pile of paper.
“I didn’t want to put anyone in an awkward position,” Evan said with a shrug. “If no one knows to ask Miriam if she processed a marriage license for us, then she never has to lie.”
“Such a Boy Scout,” Matt said under his breath, petting Evan’s knee.
“As for me, I probably can’t be bought,” Abe said, tapping his cane against the floor. “I mean, I’d like to think I’m unimpeachable, but who the hell knows.”
“Tickets to Hawaii or scotch?” asked Matt.
“Both.”
At her desk, Miriam clicked and clacked on her computer until the next sound was the soft whirr of the printer. “Okay, we are almost done.” She handed them back their IDs and paperwork. “Your license is almost ready.”
Matt relaxed slightly. “That was easy.”
“Well, yes.” Miriam smiled brightly. “Now we just have to set something on the judge’s schedule.”
Nerves rushed back as Matt attempted to look casual in the awkward office chair. He crossed, uncrossed, and recrossed his legs in a matter of ten seconds, which left Evan staring at him like he’d burped in church.
“We’ve sort of set things up for Thursday…,” Evan said, calm and collected as Matt jittered.
“Hmmm.” Miriam clicked and clacked a bit more on her computer, pulling up a calendar program as Matt watched—studiously ignoring Evan’s sideways glancing. “I can do first thing in the morning or three thirty.”
Evan put his hand on Matt’s arm, forcing him to look Evan in the eye. “Three thirty on Thursday work for you?”
“Alliteration-wise, yes,” Matt cracked—because that’s what he did when he was freaking out—then swallowed a few times. He gave himself a moment to pause, and think, and stare at Evan’s stupidly handsome face. For whatever reason, his clearest memory at that moment was the first time they met.
Abe’s retirement party, when they were both residents of rock bottom, feeling alone in a crowd. Evan smiling at him from across the table.
“You sure?” Anxiety and scrutiny managed to coexist in Evan’s expression.
The breathless and terrifying realization of being in love with Evan disrupted Matt’s… everything. Before Evan and After Evan were measured from bitterly getting by to living his best life. It went without saying that this man had changed his life. No other combination of events would have resulted in a better outcome.
Cherish it. Pin that badge on his chest—he’d wear it proudly.
Matt took a deep breath. “Positive.”
THEY DUCKED out an employee entrance out back, coming through some scaffolding onto the street. Dozens of people hurried by, paying no notice to the three men standing off to one side, but that didn’t stop Evan from keeping alert.
His palms were sweaty, his heart beating against his rib cage, and he needed to get this stupid smile off his face before he got back to the office.
“So I’ll see you boys on Thursday?” Abe asked, looking pleased as punch as he rocked back on his heels, hat perched on his head. “Haight? You’re picking me up.”
Matt’s hand tucked into Evan’s; his grip tightened as he reflected back his own dumb grin.
“Three o’clock. You got anything besides a funeral suit?” Matt teased.
“My dress blues haven’t fit in twenty years.” Abe poked him with his cane, rapping his lower leg. “Your choices are a white shirt and a light blue shirt. Same suit, same tie, same shoes.”
Evan covered his laughter with a faked cough.
“You at least got a better hat?”
Abe looked affronted but nodded anyway. “Fine. But let me tell you, there better be a bottle of Johnnie Walker Double Black in the car.”
“With a red bow on top?”
“I should think so. Now kiss Evan so we can get me home. I got plans.�
�� Abe turned to give them some privacy, arms crossed over his chest.
“The man’s a decorated police officer, I need to follow his directions,” Matt murmured, pulling Evan deeper into the shadows of the scaffolding.
Evan searched Matt’s face one more time—looking for nerves or regrets or anything—but only found his ever-present smirk and adoration shining from his eyes.
“I love you,” Evan murmured as Matt brushed his fingers along Evan’s jaw, an intimate touch that seemed out of place on a busy Bronx street.
“You better,” Matt whispered back, moving close enough to kiss. “We’re getting married day after tomorrow.”
Evan closed the distance between them, eyes shut as he slanted his lips against Matt’s.
THEY PARTED at the corner, Matt and Abe moving slowly in one direction as Evan hurried to his car. The marriage license sat in his left jacket pocket, and he could swear it was glowing radioactively.
He checked his phone, answering messages and emails as he waited for the light to change. Nothing was blowing up—thankfully, which meant he didn’t have to feel guilty about taking this time off. And taking time off Thursday to get married.
Married.
Evan slowed down, people rushing past him, elbows and shopping bags and purses slamming into him. He didn’t notice. The sounds of traffic died around him; his legs kept moving as the wave of humanity pushed him to the other side of the street.
He blinked as he tripped over the curb, nearly dropping his phone.
Gathering his wits, Evan continued the trek to his car.
THE DRIVE back to the city proved uneventful. Evan listened to the radio, prioritized his schedule for the rest of the day, and thought about dinner. Every few minutes, however, he found himself laughing out loud or just smiling so much his face hurt.
Married.
This unexpected giddiness plagued his logical side all the way to the parking garage, following him into the precinct. How could something that made him want to shout from the rooftops and hide it away at the same time exist?
Abe’s safely tucked into his barstool. On my way home, Matt texted a few minutes after he arrived at his desk. He included a few emojis that made no sense, like a postal worker, a squirrel, and sushi. If that was wedding code, Evan was at a loss to translate.
See you later, Evan responded, because all his other words were tied up in the glowing paper in his pocket. He didn’t even dare take it out lest it fall to the floor and get discovered, because surely his life had turned into a sitcom.
Work called and Evan threw himself into the papers on his desk with gusto, welcoming the distraction.
THEY SURVIVED the next forty-eight hours through sheer determination, some raucous sex, and stress eating. The latter was mostly Matt, who found himself ravenous. Or maybe putting food in his mouth meant keeping quiet, something he was having trouble doing.
It wasn’t even a fear he’d blurt out they were getting married. No, it was more that he couldn’t stop telling Evan he loved him.
The twins gave him strange looks through dinner as he stuffed another roll in his mouth.
“Matt, you need to drink less coffee during the day,” Elizabeth said, pouring him a glass of water and pushing it toward him with a concerned look. “You’re, like, about to explode.”
Danny made a helpful exploding sound.
“Yes, Matt, less coffee sounds like a plan.” Evan kicked him under the table. “Or maybe go to bed early. You need to sleep.”
“Ew,” Danny muttered, sharing a face with Elizabeth. “Remind me to put my Beats on tonight.”
Matt stared at the teens before bursting into snorting laughter. His eyes watered as he helplessly gave in to the nerves that had been plaguing him; he put his hands over his face to try to stem his mirth.
“Is Matt losing it?” Elizabeth whispered across the table.
“No, he’s just… tired. And that isn’t code for anything.” Matt could only hear Evan—and the contained humor in his tone was unmistakable. It was only a matter of time before Evan lost it as well. “I’m going to put him to bed.”
Danny coughed.
“Stop making that face, Daniel.” Evan’s voice broke slightly as Matt felt his whole body shaking.
Matt wiped his eyes, trying to bring himself under control. He grabbed a handful of napkins, taking deep, shuddering breaths until the laughter slowed down to a few snorts. “I’m… fine,” he choked out. “Just… tired.”
Elizabeth snickered, then gave a snort of her own. “It’s like sneezing! I want to laugh now too.”
“Oh my God.” Danny threw his hands up. “Is there a gas leak in here?”
“Laughing gas?” Elizabeth giggled.
“Not you too,” he accused before gathering up his silverware, plate, and glass. “I’m going to eat in the living room where it’s quiet.”
Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled. “Wait for me!” She grabbed her stuff, ignoring her brother’s grumbles.
“Defeats the purpose if you follow me!” he yelled over his shoulder.
Matt continued to wipe his eyes, watching as she ran off to bug her brother in front of the television. “God, their future spouses need to be warned about the need they have to bug each other.”
“Are you finished with your little….” Evan hand-waved. “What was that?”
“I’m tired,” Matt articulated, punctuated with an eye roll.
“You’re nuts. Go to bed.”
Matt waggled his eyebrows.
Evan’s expression threatened to break, but he took a deep breath and settled down into his best captain face. “Mr. Haight, go to bed. That’s an order.”
Licking his lips, Matt leaned over and kissed Evan’s cheek. “Starting the honeymoon early?” He could almost taste the delicious heated flush on his future husband’s face; Evan’s lips twitched, so Matt stole another peck.
“Maybe.” Evan kissed him back, then followed up with a little push against his shoulders. “Go now.”
“I love it when you take charge,” Matt said as he stood up.
From the living room, he heard Danny groan.
MUCH LIKE their license escapade a few days earlier, they drove separately to the Bronx courthouse. With his good suit tucked in the trunk, Evan had gone off to work, waving goodbye to the twins and Matt like he wasn’t holding the biggest secret of the century in his pocket.
Matt waited until the house was empty to put his good duds on, then casually drove to pick up their best man and witness.
Abe, as promised, wore the same outfit he had two days previously, but this time with a blue shirt and a fedora with a peacock feather. He shuffled into the front seat, a delighted grin on his face, and shut the car door with a healthy slam.
“It’s the big day, Haight! How’re your feet? Cold as ice?”
“Like I’m wearing penguins as shoes,” Matt deadpanned.
Hooting, Abe banged on the dashboard. “Let’s go, then.”
“Your Johnnie Walker’s in the back seat. Couldn’t find a red bow, so you’re settling for green Christmas ribbon I found in the junk drawer.”
“I’m going to be honest, I thought gay weddings were a bit classier.” Abe shook his head as Matt pulled out of his parking spot. “I seen stuff on the television, and it’s always fancy. In a field or something.”
“Oddly enough, being in a relationship with Evan did not improve my wedding-planning skills. Weird,” Matt said drily. “Then again, my best friend is marrying his boyfriend soon, and I can guarantee… fanciness.”
Abe turned on the radio. “Maybe I can get an invite to that wedding.”
WITH ABE waiting in the car, restless energy propelled Matt onto the sidewalk for some pacing. Fifteen minutes early, Evan on his way—crisp weather might keep him from sweating through his suit.
Then he saw it. Parked on the corner in front of the Bronx courthouse sat a cart piled with wedding accoutrements. Boutonnières, bouquets, veils, and commemorative picture frames s
at alongside tiny plastic bags of confetti. It was an eloping couple’s one-stop shop for wedding gear.
Matt contemplated the monstrosity, which hadn’t been there when they came for the license, awed at the insidious nature that was the wedding business, taking over this former newsstand in front of the courthouse. Everything they’d tried to avoid, as accessible as halal during lunchtime. He peeked around the back to see if there was a rack of dresses and tuxes tucked behind as well.
No.
“That might actually be a good business plan,” he muttered to himself, checking his watch for the tenth time, then felt his pocket to make sure everything was still there.
In Matt’s pocket under his vigilant protection? The license, retrieved from their closet, conveniently hidden behind some old snow boots. They’d debated a bit about rings—which neither would wear so what was the point—and decided against them. Matt and Evan were getting married today, playing by their own rules.
He was still wondering why not rings as he debated buying flowers for their lapels.
Abe’s pep talk continued to resonate. This wedding felt like a badge he would pin to his chest—we do this because we love each other, and we cherish each other. For no one else but the two of them. When they met, at the bottom of that metaphorical well, the climb out built on their mutual dependence and support. They stood on each other’s shoulders until fresh air and light found them again—and this moment felt like putting a flag atop Mount Everest.
He squinted behind his sunglasses, then pulled out his wallet.
“Those two,” he said to the young man scrolling through his phone in utter boredom. White roses with those little weed-looking things that always reminded Matt of weddings anyway. “I didn’t see this portable wedding mart the other day.”
“Twenty-two,” the young man said, pocketing his phone to grab the two plastic-bagged flowers. “Sometimes even I need a day off, man. The day before was like, every single person in the Bronx just had to get married. Brutal.”
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