Jason hummed a note that finished Mateo’s laugh and squeezed his hand. “You keep messing with the flowers,” he said, quiet enough that only Mateo could hear. “They’re fine.”
“Where would you go, if you could pick any place?” Mateo asked. just married gays
The night deepened. The last guests gave their hugs and left, gifts and leftovers in tow. Mateo and Jason climbed into the small car that would shuttle them to the hotel, and the driver, kindly and curious in his own way, congratulated them. When the driver asked the usual question—where they were headed—Jason answered simply: “Home.” Jason hummed a note that finished Mateo’s laugh
For now, though, they had a morning that smelled like coffee and rain, a row of unopened cards on a bedside table, and the sturdy, wondrous fact of two people who had decided to keep building a life together. They walked down the city avenue hand in hand—an ordinary, extraordinary procession—and everything moved forward, steady and bright as a promise. The night deepened
“We could run away right now,” Mateo murmured, half-joking, half mean.