Valentine
Coming out was the most freeing thing I’d ever done. I couldn’t begin to describe how light I felt after not having to carry around such a burden. I actually hadn’t realised how heavy it was until I didn’t have to carry it anymore.
Coming out wasn’t something I thought I’d ever get to do in my lifetime. But Marshall changed all that.
Little by little he showed me it was possible.
That I was worth it.
That I owed it to myself to be happy.
All the people in my life that mattered knew, and those who didn’t know didn’t matter.
And the thing that struck me the most? No one really cared.
If any of my teammates had an issue with it, they never said anything. They all treated me the same. Granted, I was never great friends with most of them. I didn’t have many close friends.
But as a whole, people just didn’t care.
I could remember back to when Marshall had poked fun at me, saying I wasn’t actually as popular or famous as I thought I was. That the media or corporate world didn’t think about me as much as I thought about them.
And I’d rolled my eyes because he didn’t know. How could he possibly know?
Well, he was right about that too.
No one caught wind of it.
No one cared.
If Shayla caught on, she neither reacted nor cared. She treated him coming to my office as she treated any other visitor, though she did tell me she noted his birthday on my calendar . . .
So she knew.
And she didn’t care.
And working with Marshall had been flawless. We didn’t flaunt anything, and we didn’t behave unprofessionally in any way. Though I knew it wouldn’t always be the case, and yet . . . I still wasn’t sure what the solution would be.
The thing was, he deserved to keep his job.
He was very good at it, and as the Mercer job drew to a close, I’d already told him of the next project for his team.
He’d once said the Mercer contract would be his last under Tye Corp, but now he was happy to stay.
He’d stay because of me.
But I felt if one of us should go, it should be me.
Which he said was ludicrous because it was my company, my family’s company. But oh boy, leaving was a dream. To do what, I had no clue. I had no idea what I’d do with my life, or what would be the reason for me to ever pull the pin.
I just didn’t know.
And then if I did leave, would he even want to stay? Would my leaving be for naught?
So many questions we didn’t have answers to.
We were just happy with how things were.
We’d had dinner and weekend lunches with my sister. She loved him. We’d even had a few dinners with his parents. It’d been awkward at first, but Marshall’s parents were really good people. His father had been unsure, which was completely understandable, and that first time I’d been so nervous I’d almost vomited.
But they were kind and welcomed me into their lives with open arms. It was more than I could have ever wished for. We just made a point of never speaking about work around his dad. Apart from the very first time, when Mr Wise had wanted to clear the air.
“Your father,” he’d began.
“My father is a terrible person,” I’d replied, because it was the truth, and we all got along fine after that.
And for a few months, everything was amazing. I was the happiest I’d ever been. The most thoroughly sated too. Every aspect of my life was a fucking dream.
Except one.
Except that one dark cloud I could never be rid of.
Shayla knocked at my office door before slipping inside. “Sorry to interrupt,” she whispered, “but your father’s here.”
No warning, no meeting, no schedule.
No consideration for anyone but himself.
I gave her a smile. “Thank you.”
“Should I bring tea or coffee?”
“No, he won’t be staying long.”
He never did.
He walked in without so much as a knock, his familiar scowl and hard-set eyes zeroed in on me.
“Dad,” I said, not getting to my feet. I put my pen down and closed my laptop, aiming for a pleasantness I didn’t feel. “This is unexpected.”
I expected him to make some snappy reply about always expecting him, but he said nothing. He sat across from me and, like always, went straight to business. “I’ve just seen the projection figures for the next financial year,” he said. “If you want to stay viable, you’re going to need to cut costs.”
Cut costs?
“We’ve barely been operational for one year,” I started. “Ten months. That’s hardly—”
“We knew it was risky and we bargained to carry the cost of incorporating the construction division, but interest rates . . .”
And so he went on about interest rate rises, increased manufacturing costs, shipping costs, incorporating Melbourne. The list was extensive, and I understood that financial decisions needed to be made.
But without explanation, I also knew that my father’s idea of cutting costs was firing staff.
The expendable cost, the collateral cost.
The human cost.
It was always the first on his list.
Now, before that moment, I didn’t know what the catalyst for me would be telling my father what I thought of him, but apparently this was it.
I’d accepted my departure from Tye Corp would be a long game, and even knowing I’d be leaving one day in the future had been enlightening. I felt good about my decision. I’d told Brooklyn about my plans to leave one day, and it was exciting to think of a new life starting over.
One day.
Well, one day came around quicker than I’d thought it would.
My father wanted to cut costs, which always meant cutting staff. And that meant cutting Marshall. He just told me to ruin some more lives as if he were stomping ants into the ground.
I never knew I had a hard limit line, a point of no return, but apparently that was it.
“Or,” I said, looking my father dead in the eye, “have you considered not taking millions in dividends and using that funding to cover costs instead?”
He stared. Cold and disbelieving. Calculating. He smirked as if he was dealing with a defiant calf before he called for its slaughter. “You dare question me?”
I didn’t care. I no longer depended on his approval. “I dare question sound financial decisions.”
“What do you know about financial decisions?” he barked. “We have shareholders—”
“We have nothing without staff,” I snapped. “You want to treat your precious company like a machine, but you keep eliminating all the cogs and soon enough none of the wheels will turn. Who do you think runs your company? You?” I scoffed. “I’ll tell you who makes your machine run. People. It’s the people on the ground. Every single time. All those inconsequential little ants you despise. Without them you’d have nothing.”
Well, that was not the correct answer, apparently. The dark storm in his expression erupted. The old me would have been terrified by the cold darkness aimed at me, but not anymore. “You’ll do well to remember your place,” he whispered. “Lest you find yourself in the unemployment line with your staff.”
I almost laughed. “I know my place very well. Though it seems you’ve forgotten yours.”
I wondered if that vein in his forehead would actually burst. I kinda wanted to find out.
I smiled at him. “You know what happens to the queen ant, Dad, when all her drones realise she no longer has the colony’s best interest at heart. They stop serving her and she starves. You think the queen is the most powerful in that colony, but no, she is nothing without her little drones.”
“You . . .” he seethed. “You ungrateful—”
“I am many things,” I said, speaking over him. “Not that you’d know. You have no idea who I am. You have no idea who your daughter is. You have no idea where your wife is. You might be a successful businessman, but you suck at everything else. Though I will say if you thought giving me the construction division would help me see what I could become, you were right. Because I want to become nothing like you.”
My hands were shaking but damn, this felt good.
“If you want to fire the best construction teams you have, then you can be the one to do it because I will quit before I do that. And I’ll make it known why in my resignation letter to the board. If you want to hire cheaper subcontractors, then go right ahead. Cut your budgets, cut all the corners, and enjoy the lawsuits that come from dodgy construction, because that’s what you’ll get. I’ll not have my name attached to that. And your shareholders won’t either.”
That vein was looking precariously close to bursting.
“I don’t know who the hell you think you’re speaking to,” he whispered, his voice like volcanic ice. “I raised you better—”
“You didn’t raise me at all,” I said.
I was so close to telling him. I wanted to tell him I was gay just to watch the look on his face, to see if that vein would actually burst, to see if steam would come out his ears.
But I realised then, sitting across from him in the empire he had built, that he wasn’t worth it.
He didn’t deserve to know.
He didn’t deserve the very best part of me.
“Just know this,” I added. “Me leaving has nothing to do with whether I could handle it. I can handle it just fine. What I can’t handle is being the one to do your dirty work. If you want to strip budgets and fire people, you do it. You go out there and look those good people in the eye and tell them.”
I picked up my pen. “You promised this division two years to meet target, and you’re pulling the rug at ten months. And every financial report I’ve given you has been better than expected, so the real problem here is that your projection team that told you it would work missed the mark. Fire them instead.”
“They couldn’t have foreseen a second global financial—”
“That is exactly what you pay them to do. That is their one fucking job. To evaluate risk assessments and have contingency plans for every possible scenario.” I tilted my head. “Unless the incompetence wasn’t theirs? Did you make that call?”
And that was it.
The final straw that broke the camel’s back.
He stood up, placed both hands on my desk, and glowered pure rage at me.
Then he fired me.
And I laughed.
And that was how I knew I was really done.
Done with his shit. Done with living under his cloud of expectation. Done living in his shadow. Done with every other cheesy cliché I could think of.
I was fucking done.
I called Marshall on my way home and he followed me into my apartment by about two minutes. He raced in, saw the box of my office things on the table, his eyes wide and he grabbed my shoulders. “Holy shit, what happened?”
“I’m done,” I said, still smiling. I think I even laughed. “I told him I was done. I told him everything I wanted to say to him my entire life. I told him he was a terrible father.”
“Holy shit.”
I laughed again, probably sounding a little manic. “And if he wanted to fire everyone and close the construction division, he could damn well do it himself, because he’s a fucking coward. Okay, well, I didn’t say that exactly, but it was implied.”
“Holy shit.”
“And I told him . . . I can’t remember everything I said because I kind of unloaded on him.” I put my hand to my forehead. “But then he fired me. But I think I quit before that, so I dunno.”
Marshall stared, then looked around the apartment, his eyes still comically wide. “Holy shit.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Did you tell him? That you’re gay?”
I shook my head. “No. I was going to just really put the boot into him, but you know what? He doesn’t deserve to know. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of taking the one good thing in my life and ruining it. Fuck him. I’m done. I’m so done, Marshall.”
He laughed and gave me a hug. A kind of bewildered hug, but it still felt great.
“I’m proud of you,” he said. “For sticking up for yourself.”
“I stuck up for everyone.” I was still smiling like an idiot. “I feel so good. I don’t expect that’s gonna last. When reality kicks in. And I don’t know what it means for Shayla or any of the staff there. Or you and your team. I just don’t know.” My smile died, and oh look, here comes reality . . .
Marshall shook his head. “This isn’t about me or anyone else. This is about you. You needed to do this. For you, to finally be free of all that bullshit.”
I nodded because he was right. “Once I started telling him, I just couldn’t stop. I probably should have stopped at the ant colony analogy.”
“The what?”
I snorted. “Never mind.”
He put his hands to my face and pulled me in for another hug. He was smiling, still bewildered, still disbelieving. “So he’s getting rid of the whole construction division?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Maybe I should have offered to stick around so I could find out for you. I’m sorry about that.”
He chuckled just as my intercom buzzed. “I’ll get it,” he said, walking over to the screen. “It’s Brooklyn.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with the Tye Corp grapevine,” I said. “Let her in.”
Ten seconds later, Brooklyn barrelled in like a whirlwind, tossing her handbag onto the table and pulling me onto a dining chair. “Tell me everything.”
I relayed the story, filling in more details for Marshall’s benefit as well. Marshall made us coffee and he cuddled Enzo while Brooklyn hung on every word.
When I was done, she sat back and sighed. “What will you do?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “For the first time in my life, I don’t know.”
She smiled. “And how does that feel?”
I laughed. “Kinda awesome.”
Marshall looked a little worried, and that was hardly surprising. He’d had to worry about future plans and finances his whole life. I understood where his concern was coming from, and the uncertainty moving forward.
I slid my hand over his. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound insensitive. And as soon as I hear what he’s planning to do with the construction division, you’ll be the first to know. I promise.”
“We can worry about me another day,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re okay. And I’m proud of you.”
Hearing him say that, knowing he meant it with his whole heart, made me tear up a little. “I love you,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t have had the courage to do what I did today if it weren’t for you.”
My sister put her hand up, making a face. “Ah, please pity the single person in the room.”
Marshall chuckled warmly and squeezed my hand. “Well, don’t thank me yet. You’re unemployed and I probably will be soon.”
Shit.
“It’s not a bad thing,” he added. “It just means some things might have to change, that’s all.”
“Like what?”
“Where I work, travel times, my unit.” He made a face. “I’ve got a bit of money saved.”
“Move in with me,” I said. Both Marshall and Brooklyn stared at me. “You basically live here anyway, and I own this place so there’ll be no rent.”
He stared at me. “You own it outright?”
I winced. “Uh, yeah.”
Marshall sat back and ran his hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”
I turned to face him, taking both his hands. “Move in with me. If I won’t see you at work, then I’ll need to see you here.”
“You rarely saw me at work.”
“Marshall.”
“Valentine.”
“Uh, hello,” Brooklyn said. “I’m still here. Still single. Which has never been more apparent than it is now.”
Marshall laughed at that and kissed the back of my hand. “How about we just deal with one big life change at a time?”
“Stop being sensible.”
He snorted. “One of us probably should be.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying no.”
“I’m not saying no.”
“Then it’s a yes.”
“An eventual yes. Not a now yes.”
I smiled at him. “I’ll take that.”
Brooklyn groaned. “For the love of god you’re going to make me download Tinder.”
I laughed and threaded my fingers with Marshall’s. “Don’t do it. Men are terrible.”
He snorted and kissed the back of my hand again, not taking his eyes from mine. “They’re the absolute worst.”
Brooklyn stood up. “Oh my god, I hate you both.” She grabbed her bag. “Valentine, I’ll call you the second I hear any news.”
We laughed as she walked out, closing the door behind her, and the room filled with silence. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Marshall asked me gently.
I let out a long breath, taking stock of how I felt, waiting to see if doubt or regret reared their ugly heads. I waited for the tightness in my chest, for my breath to feel short, for anxiety to claw at my insides . . .
It didn’t come. “I feel . . . free. Like I kicked down the door to my cage. I know there’ll be times when I will question if I made the right decision, and I’ll need you to remind me of how I feel right now.”
He smiled, his eyes warm and full of love. “I will.” He fixed a strand of my hair and studied my face before his gaze met mine. “Do you need anything? Tell me what you need.”
I laughed. “You’re expecting me to say a good hard fucking, aren’t you?”
He smirked. “Well, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
I shook my head. “You know what I really need?”
“What’s that?”
“Tacos. And a margarita. In the city. We’ll take my car so people look. I want them to look. So they can see me hold your hand, and I don’t care who sees, Marshall. I want them to see.”
He laughed. “You want to go on a date?”
I nodded quickly, so freaking excited. “A real date. In public. I know that probably sounds stupid to you, but it would be my first date, actually. In public. With a guy. And I want it to be with you.”
He made a sad smiley face, cupped my jaw. “That doesn’t sound stupid. That sounds perfect.” He paused, gesturing down to his work clothes. “I’ll need to go home and get changed.”
“You have jeans here. You can borrow a shirt.”
“Your shirts won’t fit me.”
“They’ll be tight, and honestly, I’m okay with that.”
He rolled his eyes. “My boots have cement on them.”
“Even better. I don’t care what you wear. We’re not going anywhere fancy.”
“Valentine, your idea of a fancy restaurant and my idea of fancy are very different. Fancy to me is when a waiter comes to your table instead of ordering at the counter.”
I laughed. “All I’m hearing is reasons for you to move in with me.”
“What . . . how? That’s quite a leap.”
“Because if you lived here, your clothes would already be here and we’d be on our way to eating tacos instead of arguing about the definition of fancy.”
He huffed at me and turned for my bedroom. “Feed Enzo while I get changed.”
I did that and found him in my bathroom, raking wet fingers through his hair. “Our first public date and I look terrible,” he grumbled.
I grabbed his arse. “You look great.”
Jeans, one of my white polos, considerably tight, and his work boots. Perfect.
“I’m wearing this,” I said, looking down at my suit pants and a fitted button-down, sleeves rolled to my elbows. “Or should I change too?”
“Oh, please. You look like a million dollars every day of the week,” he said. “With your perfect hair and your perfect face.”
“Hm. You might wanna be careful, Marshall. I might start thinking you actually like me.”
“Well, I don’t.” He shoved me out of the bathroom. “Come on, let’s go on a date.”
I grabbed my phone and keys. “Wanna drive my car?”
“Aaaaabsolutely fucking not.”
I laughed as we walked to the elevator. “Well, you’ll be driving it home because I’m having a margarita. Or several.”
He winced. “Christ. Why do you have such an expensive car, anyway?”
“Because it’s beautiful.”
“It’s pretentious.”
“It’s pretentiously beautiful.”
He laughed at that but then in the parking garage, as we walked to my very pretentiously beautiful car, he came to the driver’s side with me. “What are you doing? You want to drive into the city?”
“No. I’m opening your door. It’s a date. We need to do it properly.”
I unlocked the car, he opened the door, held my hand for me to get in, and once I was safely inside, he closed the door. When he got in and put his seatbelt on, I was still looking at him.
“What?”
“You’re just really sweet.”
“Might wanna be careful,” he murmured. “I might start thinking you actually like me.”
I chuckled and started the car, the engine purring, and I caught the way he smiled. He could complain about my car all he liked but it was hard not to be a little impressed.
“So, this first date,” I said. “If we’re doing this properly, you’ll have me home by nine and expect no more than a kiss on the porch when you drop me home, right?”
He nodded seriously, “Oh, absolutely. Just a kiss.”
I drove out of my spot to the security gate. “You better fucking not. I have great expectations, Marshall.” Then I thought I should clarify. “And I’m not talking about the book.”
Husbands With Benefits
From first dates to him being my first boyfriend, to Marshall’s first night after moving in, there were a lot of firsts.
Our first fight, which was more about me needing to pull my head out of my arse. Apologising and admitting I was wrong sucked enormous balls, but the making up part was fun.
Or the first time Enzo fell sick and we rushed him to the vet. It was nothing some antibiotics didn’t fix, but it was scary as hell, and I’d never needed Marshall more in my life. He was an absolute rock of support and level-headed and perfect, while I was nothing short of a hot mess.
Kinda summed us up though, really.
And then there was my first day in a new job.
It was with a big tech firm and their mission ethos about putting people first seemed a good fit for me.
I’d never had to interview for a job before, and it was daunting and nauseating but also exciting. I had a degree, a long and varied experience with data analysis, risk assessment, and resource management, and a solid employment history and a great portfolio. Granted, that employment history was in a family business, but it was at a national level. I was capable and willing, and with Marshall’s unwavering support, I also believed in myself.
He was more nervous than me, pacing when I returned from the interview. “How’d it go?”
My grin told him all he needed to know, and he threw his arms around me and lifted me off my feet. “I’m so proud of you!”
I was proud of me too.
And so my slide into the IT world began. It was long hours—no longer than I was used to—Monday to Friday, and it paid very well. It was also proof for my father that I could do just fine on my own.
I’d spoken to him exactly three times in the last year. So not really any different to how things were before, though now we didn’t have the cushion of work to soften the stark reality of our relationship.
And I was okay with that.
Marshall was still at the same job. There’d been some structural changes and technically it was still under the parent company of Tye Corp, but his construction division was now one branch removed on the fuckery tree. He was happier with that, and the truth was, he had worked hard to get where he was.
He deserved to stay.
Plus, he worked with his mates, there was minimal travelling, the pay was good, though he never went to another Monday morning manager’s meeting.
And me?
I was so much happier. I hadn’t even known what true happiness was until I no longer worked for my father. Sure, Marshall showed me what happiness was, but this was different. This was freedom and self-worth. I’m sure Marshall had a lot to do with that, and I’d probably never have had the courage to do half of what I’d done without him.
I was out of the shadow of my father, basking in the sunlight for the first time. I laughed more. I went out more. I was free. I was free to be the real me for the first time in my life. I still did Karate on Monday nights, still played rugby, still gave as good as I got.
It’d been a meandering path in finding the real me, each step a milestone.
But I was out and proud, living with a man I loved. A man who loved me.
And two years later, life was damn near perfect. There wasn’t one thing I’d change.
Meeting our friends at the pub for a Saturday lunch had been a thing we did in the off season.
Taka was there with his now-wife, Rhea, bouncing his six-month old son on his knee, the chubbiest, cutest kid you’d ever seen. Lleyton was sitting next to Brooklyn.
Yes, my sister.
They’d started talking at our usual get-togethers and dinners in town, and to be honest, they were a good match. He knew all about our fucked-up family and I knew all about his. He’d been my best friend for years, after all.
But then they began hanging out together without me and Marshall, for the occasional private dinner and trips to the beach, and then it became almost every weekend. That had been going on for a while now, and I quite happily pretended it wasn’t happening at all while Lleyton looked at her as if he was ridiculously in love. Pretty much the same way she looked at him.
It was gross.
I loved my sister, and over the last few years, we’d become incredibly close. I just didn’t have to know about what my best friend did to her. Or what she did to him.
No thanks.
“Oh, before I forget,” Lleyton said. “Sign-ups for this season start next week. Don’t forget.”
I made a face. “Ah, yeah, about that . . . I have an announcement.”
His eyes went wide. “What announcement?”
I grimaced. “I won’t be playing this year. I’m retiring from rugby.”
Marshall’s hand slid over mine on my thigh. “Me too.”
Taka put his hand up. “Ah, same. I was gonna tell you guys today. My knee hasn’t got another season in it.”
“What?” Lleyton cried, his head falling back. “You’re all soft.” Then he lifted his head up and stared at me. “Whyyyy? Come on. We have another few years in us yet.”
“We all turned thirty last year,” I replied. “My body is very well aware.” It was true. Sure, rugby was fun and I loved it, but my body didn’t love it as much as my heart, that was certain. And honestly, I’d rather save the body aches and pains for the bedroom. “Man, we’re out there against eighteen-year-olds. You remember what it was like when we were eighteen. We used to laugh at the old guys we played against.”
“We’re not that old,” Lleyton cried. Then he pointed his beer bottle at me. “It’s because you’re 2–1 up on him, isn’t it? You don’t want him to even the score.”
I snorted.
Lane Cove had beaten North Ryde twice in the last three years, North Ryde taking the shield last year. It had become a joke between us, between our teams, that it was Marshall against me, and the rivalry had always been fun.
But Marshall had hurt his shoulder last year and it put him off work for a few weeks, and it wasn’t something he wanted to go through again. So we made the decision, together, that it was time for both of us to hang up the boots.
“As if North Ryde would beat us this year anyway,” I joked. “We’d kick their arse.”
“You fucking wish,” Marshall said.
Lleyton got his hopes up. “So does that mean you’ll play?”
We shook our heads. “No.”
He groaned. “You all suck.” He threw his bottle top at me. “And the way you said you had an announcement, I thought you were gonna say you were getting married or something.”
I threw his bottle top back at him. Hard. “As if. Jesus Christ.”
Taka’s gaze shot to Marshall’s, and Marshall gave the tiniest shake of his head.
What the . . . ?
“What was that look for?” I asked, pointing between them. “I saw it.”
Taka put his hand up. “I didn’t do anything.” He suddenly found his kid very enthralling, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
So I turned to Marshall. I didn’t even have to say anything. He shifted in his seat and made a face. “Would getting married be so terrible?”
I stared at him. Because what the actual fuck? “Ah, yes. Marriage is terrible.”
His eyes met mine. “So you wouldn’t . . . ?” He smiled sadly and sat up straighter. “Well, that’s good to know.”
“No,” I blurted out. God, the look of hurt on his face struck deep in my heart. “I mean, marriage, in general, is not great. A legally binding contract tied to a religion I don’t believe in doesn’t make any sense.”
“That’s so romantic,” Marshall said. His smile didn’t look right.
It didn’t look right at all.
Jesus.
Did he really want to get married?
I think he did . . .
Oh holy fuck.
“But getting married to you would be fine,” I added, trying to salvage something yet somehow making it worse. “Better than fine, probably. If it didn’t involve a church or my parents, or . . .”
Lleyton began to laugh.
“Better than fine,” Marshall repeated slowly.
“Well, no, it’d be great, actually. It’d be great. I mean, we already live together and you’re a great dad to Enzo. Though if you want me to wear a ring so people know I belong to you, then there’s really no point, because anytime we’re together you kinda growl at anyone who looks at me, so there’s no mistaking—”
Marshall patted my leg. “Stop talking.”
I stopped talking, and everyone was staring but also trying not to look at us. Except for Lleyton. He was still laughing.
Christ.
Goddammit.
“Fucking hell, Marshall. Well, now you better fucking ask me,” I snapped. “Since you brought it up and made a whole scene.”
Brooklyn snorted behind her bottle of beer. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”
I huffed at her. “Oh, zip it.” I pulled my hand from Marshall’s. “I hate you.”
He laughed and took my hand back into his. “No you don’t. Not anymore.” He sighed. “We’ve done the whole enemies-with-benefits thing before. Then we tried the boyfriends with benefits thing. It was fun.”
Was?
“Was?”
Why was he talking in past tense?
His smile was lazy, his eyes were warm in the fading summer sun. “Yeah. I thought maybe we could try the husbands-with-benefits thing. One day.”
“It’s fiancé first,” Brooklyn added. “Fiancé with benefits, then husbands.” She grimaced. “Technically.”
I stared at her, because god, this was actually happening . . . then back to Marshall. “What are you saying?”
“Well, I was saying maybe we could get married one day, but if you think marriage is terrible, then . . .”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, yes, I’d marry you. And no, marriage isn’t terrible. I mean, it kind of is, but not marriage to you. That’d be kind of wonderful.”
Brooklyn laughed, her hands to her face. “Oh god, this is a train wreck from start to finish.”
I ignored my sister because I couldn’t take my eyes off Marshall.
“So, is that a yes?” he asked.
I nodded, my heart so full it could burst. “Y-yes.”
His grin was spectacular as he pulled me in for a kiss and everyone at the table clapped and cheered.
“I told you he’d say yes,” Taka said. “Kinda fitting that you asked him in the very place it all started.”
Oh god.
“It started here?” Lleyton looked around the pub.
Taka laughed and pointed his chin at the door. “In the bathrooms.”
I shot Marshall a look. “You told him?”
Marshall grinned at me proudly. “Hell yes, I did.”
Lleyton groaned. “Oh god. The bathrooms? Really?”
I raised my chin, trying to recoup some level of decorum. “I don’t think I need to answer that.”
Brooklyn laughed, reaching over to clink her bottle of beer to mine. “Classy.”
I slid my hand over Marshall’s, threading our fingers. This man, this perfect man wanted to marry me. I still couldn’t quite believe it, and my mind was spinning.
“You okay?” Marshall asked.
I barked out a laugh. “Uh, yeah. I’m just trying to decide if I deliberately don’t invite my parents, or deliberately do invite them just to see my father’s face when he sees I’m marrying a man.”
Marshall smiled. “That would be kinda funny.”
I sighed. “Are you sure you want to marry me? I mean, you know what you’re signing up for.”
“Fuck yes.”
I still couldn’t believe it. But wearing his ring, promising forever, that sounded pretty damn good to me.
He’d clearly talked about it with Taka, so . . . “How long have you been planning to ask me . . . since when?”
His eyes were smiling. “Remember when we were in the Under 10s at that rugby carnival and you smashed me over the sideline to win the game?”
I laughed. “Liar. You have not planned it since then. You hated me for that.”
He chuckled. “Okay, so maybe it was that night when you shoved me into the bathroom stall.”
I snorted. “You hated me for that too.”
He sighed happily. “I don’t hate you anymore,” he said, lifting our hands to his lips to kiss my knuckles. “But don’t get any ideas. Just because I wanna spend forever with you and don’t hate you anymore doesn’t mean I like you or anything.”
I laughed, so much in love. “Good, just because I said yes doesn’t mean I like you or anything either.”
