I hugged my father then. For a long time. He held me tightly and it was good. It was so, so good.
And then his phone beeped.
We pulled apart. He pulled his phone out, glancing down at the screen. “Okay,” he said cheerfully. “That’s our cue. You ready?”
And I said the only thing I could.
“Let’s rock and roll.”
I DIDN’T pay attention to much else after I saw him waiting for me.
My dad’s arm was through mine, and we walked down the stairs. I remember that. Music was playing. The crowd was murmuring. I saw familiar faces. I felt the warmth of Dad at my side. The sun was setting. There were birds singing in the palm trees.
But it all fell away when I saw him.
And after that, I only had eyes for Vincent Melody Taylor.
He was handsome in his suit and bow tie, like I knew he’d be. That was never in question. What I didn’t expect, after all of this, was the sheer relief I felt at the sight of him. Deep inside, I knew he’d be there, waiting for me, but the sight of him actually there was the confirmation I needed. This was right. Everything about this was right.
He was distracted by something. What, I didn’t know. But it wasn’t until Darren leaned in and murmured in his ear that his head jerked up and he saw me.
And I saw the stuttering breath.
The hitching of his chest.
And it took everything I could not to run to him.
But I walked that long walk next to my father.
I never looked away.
Neither did he.
The smile on his face when I finally stood before him was the widest I’d ever seen.
My dad squeezed my arm before he let me go. Before he took his place at my side, Dad broke protocol and hugged Vince tightly, kissing him on the cheek. The audience laughed as Vince hugged him back, watching me over Dad’s shoulder.
Dad stepped back, winked at me, then went to stand next to Sandy.
And then it was just the two of us.
(And the fifty or so people around us. Semantics.)
He took his hands into mine and didn’t even seem to care that they were sweaty.
That was true love right there.
We weren’t religious. We didn’t have any specific faith. My family were lapsed Catholics, and the only time Vince had been inside a church was for his mother’s funeral. Sandy had directed us toward a woman he volunteered with at Wingspan, which catered toward the LGBTQ+ youth. The woman, a lesbian named Jenny, was apparently an ordained Unitarian minister who had done other same-sex weddings. She was older, and kind. When we’d met her a few months previous, she’d assured us she’d be more than willing to officiate and make it about us instead of being too mired in faith. We’d read over what she’d say and saw hardly any changes to be made. It was to be short and sweet, given that the vows were going to be what was the most important.
Which apparently I sucked at.
So when she spoke, I knew what she was going to say.
And that’s when I knew it was real. All of this was real.
“It is written,” she said, voice loud and clear, “that the greatest of all things—the most wonderful experience in the world—is love. Vince and Paul, into your lives has entered a deep and nurturing love, and you have asked me to help you celebrate and affirm that love. It is a great honor you have bestowed upon me, and I shall cherish it, as you obviously cherish each other.”
And I never looked away from Vince. Not once. Not the entire time she spoke. I didn’t think I actually even heard what she said aside from the beginning. And while I continued to sweat, Vince looked remarkably at ease, like just having me here in front of him was all he needed to be calm. I didn’t know what that said about him—or me, for that matter—but it didn’t matter. Not now. Not when I was getting to have something I never really ever thought could be mine.