Page 122 of Say It Again
“Yes.” He wrinkled his nose and wiped at one merry little tear as Aaron slid the ring on his finger. “God, duh.”
Aaron chuckled. “Can I kiss you?”
“Mr. Silva, do not go losin’ your bite. You didn’t even ask permission before you knew my name.” He lowered his voice and whispered into Aaron’s mouth, “Don’t start now.”
They ignited where their lips met, hyped and hungry with exploration like they’d never tasted something so stirring. Like they couldn’t wait. Like it wasn’t blocks and blocks of running to get home where the institution of an apartment had transformed back into a home. The lights softer, hued in yellows, welcoming them into their bed where they undressed. Where they unraveled, the skin of Aaron’s bare chest hot beneath his fingertips.
“Can you say it?” Daniel fanned a sheet over them.
Aaron nodded. “I. I. L-l-love you.”
“You sure can,” he whispered, through a silly attempt to buffer some of the tears with his brow tensed and smile uncontrollable. He combed his hands through Aaron’s hair and kissed him over and over. “Can you say it again?”
Aaron cleared his throat. “I. L-love you, Daniel.”
“Say it again.”
“I l-love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
He asked and asked, and Aaron repeated until it poured from his lips through a proud and effortless smile. Tears wet his beautiful eyes and both of their faces—oh, who knew whose tears they were as the sheets cocooned around them, as comforting as the words they spoke.
Promises of hope in austerity, faith in disorder, and humor during chaos.
Promises of a bold creed: No. More. Mistakes. Then, okay, maybe patience for mistakes. Then, dammit, maybe grace for those mistakes made on purpose.
Promises of fully there and forever-with-you. “That you’ll have your space, that I’ll be so present.”
Promises of carnal pleasure and take-what-you-need. “What’s mine is yours, every inch of me, have it. Own my body, my mouth, my inside, my out.”
Promises all made just in time for the amber rays of a new day to coax them from the tangle of each other’s arms, from the tender little contracts spoken in a twilight of sleep and dreamlike kisses.
Promises all made in earnest, raw with imperfections. All real. All unified by three simple words.
“Say it again.”
Epilogue
“FIFTEEN MINUTES,” Daniel said. “Are you ready?”
Aaron glanced up from the eucalyptus leaves he’d been arranging around a vase on his consultation desk just in time to see his fiancé’s giddy little shoulder shimmy while he blew up balloon number… sixteen? Seventeen? Whatever number he was on, it was too many. They didn’t need that many balloons, just like they didn’t need the chocolate “scones” Daniel had gotten up early to “bake.” The ones that resembled something one might find in a clogged drain.
“Are you ready for the big grand soft opening of Silva Interiors?” Daniel squealed as he tied off the balloon. “I just like saying it. Silva Interiors. So fucking licensed.”
“We’ve been over this.” Aaron smirked as he twisted the vase around to inspect it from all sides. “Saying ‘grand soft’ is contradictory. It’s just soft; the soft opening. It’s literally only people we know.”
“Aaron, I need you to look at me.” Daniel leaned his palms onto the desk. “Look into my eyeballs.”
He peered up, grinning as he met Daniel’s gaze. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Just because something occasionally has to be soft does not mean it’s not still grand.”
“Ahh.” Aaron nodded. “Reference to my dick, then?”
“Grand.” Daniel inhaled, fanning himself, as embellished as ever. “God, so grand, Aaron-nuh. Even when it’s soft.”