Page 247 of What We Become

“Okay,” Gloria announces, already back in command. “Champagne before we all dehydrate from tears.”

“Too late,” Dennis says thickly.

“Champagne anyway.”

People begin moving, chairs scraping softly over the grass, conversations breaking open in little clusters. The whole backyard loosens around us. The ceremony is over.

My husbands. Plural.

The word should feel absurd.

It feels right.

Knox keeps my hand in his, turning it now and then so our rings catch the light together. Eli kisses my temple and stays there for a moment, smiling against my skin. Holden looks at us and laughs—a low, disbelieving sound that makes me laugh too. Micah slips an arm around Eli’s waist, his face still wet, and when our eyes meet his smile nearly starts me crying again. Milo collects two champagne flutes from a passing server and hands me one.

“For my wife.” The others take glasses from the server. “Our wife. Fuck, I love saying that.” Once everyone has their glass, he puts a hand over his heart. “To the House of Adams.”

I clink his glass. “To the House of Adams.”

Knox touches his glass to mine, and the others follow.

Then Knox keeps his glass in the air and clears his throat. “To keeping her.”

My breath catches.

He looks around our perfect circle. “And each other.”

Milo makes a wounded sound. “Jesus, big guy, you can’t just body-slam us emotionally with that many words so close together.”

Micah’s smile goes soft and helpless. Eli looks away for half a second like he needs to get himself under control. Holden just exhales through his nose and lifts his glass higher.

“To keeping her,” Holden says.

“And each other,” Eli echoes, voice rough.

Micah touches his flute lightly to mine. “Always.”

Milo presses his in last. “And to her keeping us, because let’s be honest, we’d all be dead, incarcerated, or wearing deeply depressing socks without her.”

I laugh, and the sound comes out watery around the edges. “You’re all so dramatic.”

“Untrue,” Holden says. “Milo is dramatic. The rest of us are simply devastating.”

I smile into my glass as I drink. To keeping us.

Later, Amy finds me at the edge of the yard with a glass of champagne and mascara tracks on her cheeks.

“It’s been a great day,” she says.

“It really has.” I nudge her with my shoulder. “I’m not sure why we went with the regular mascara though.”

She wipes at her cheeks. “Yeah. I’m questioning that decision too. It was the one that looked the prettiest. But now it’s just running down our faces.”

I laugh and rest my head on her shoulder, already missing her. “You’d better keep answering your phone when you’re a big-city girl.”

“You have five husbands. Surely one of them will talk to you.”

I lift my head. “They’re the people I’ll be calling to complain about.”