given to screaming, but he thought by the time he finally got married, he was going to be pretty much an expert at it.
At the next right, they turned. The drive was long, taking them through the growth of old trees until they found a neat, new asphalt parking lot and a chapel. It had a cross, but nothing to mark a denomination, and the design was pleasing, although Hazard couldn’t quite match it with any particular style: energetic lines racing up to the sky; long walls of windows that looked out on nature; every surface, where possible, treated to look raw and natural: unpainted timber and cedar shake. A handful of cars were parked outside.
“Damn it,” Somers said. “We’re late. If they’re showing the place to someone else, we’re going to have to wait.” He looked at Hazard and said, “This is because you had to get handsy.”
“Excuse me?”
“Uh.” Somers’s expression shifted into a disarming smile. “Thank you?”
They approached the chapel. Hazard could see a deck that extended off the back of the structure. “I thought we said no chapel.”
“I know, but let’s just look.”
“And you want to do the reception here?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you said this place was bigger.”
Somers was scrubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, well, I guess I got it wrong.”
“So why are we even here?”
“Ree, let’s just please take a look and see.”
“Ok,” Hazard said, raising his hands. “Whatever you want.”
“This is what I want.”
“I’m easy to please. I just want you to have whatever you—”
Somers grabbed his hand, tugged him toward the building, and muttered something about murder under his breath.
When they stepped inside, Hazard had to blink. Autumn sunlight filled the space—he had a vague impression of pews painted farmhouse white, a long nave, and what he had mistaken for windows from the outside were, he realized now, French doors, standing open now to admit the soft cry of a warbler and the sweet smell of crushed acorns and goldenrod. None of that held his attention, however. His gaze was fixed on the far end of the nave, where his mother was standing.
“Please don’t be mad,” Somers said in a very small voice.
Hazard blinked again. Glennworth and Grace Elaine Somerset stood at the end of the nave on the opposite side of the aisle. Wesley stood there too, in a simple blue suit. He looked much better than he had when Hazard had seen him after being released from the county jail, but the lines of grief still marked his face even when he smiled at them.
“I kept trying to tell you I didn’t want a big wedding, and I knew you didn’t want a big wedding, and then the Keeper happened and you almost died and I was going crazy thinking about what I’d do if I lost you, and I realized next year was too far off. And today is the day you came back into my life two years ago, and I just thought it was right. It felt right.” Somers bit his lips and then blurted, “Well, say something.”
Hazard turned until he and Somers were face to face. He studied John-Henry Somerset for a moment and then he reached back and brushed down the stray clumps of hair.
“You want to kill me,” Somers said.
Hazard looked at his fiancé, who had changed into a Baby Shark t-shirt, who was wearing jeans and boat shoes, who wasn’t the boy Hazard had been simultaneously attracted to and terrified of. He was a different person. A better person. He was so very good.
“It’s ok,” Somers said thickly. “We can just head home. I told them you might not—”
“It’s perfect.”
Somers knuckled at his eyes for a moment. His voice was still thick when he said, “Yeah?”
“It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you.” Hazard bent and kissed him. “That’s the last one of those you’re going to get, though, unless we make some changes.”
Somers raised an eyebrow, but his eyes were still full, and he kept having to wipe them clear.
“I plan on only kissing my husband in the future,” Hazard said with a shrug.
“Well,” Somers said, the corner of his mouth trembling. “Let’s go make some changes.”
“No music?” Hazard asked as they walked down the aisle.
“I could ask them if they have Death Cab for Cutie.”
“Fine,” Hazard said. “I will throw this shirt away when we get home.”
“No,” Somers pled, dragging out the vowel. “I like imagining skinny emo Emery Hazard.”
“Straight into the trash.”
“Please don’t.”
“You’d probably pull it out again,” Hazard said,