Page 123 of Sweet T

“Yes.” Pedro chuckled. “I’m sure he does.”

Twenty-Six

When Evan exited the main house, things became a little surreal. He was surprised by the number of people there. He knew how many were invited, but had no idea how full the yard would look. There were twice as many people there than attended a single night of the Black Sheep’s shows. As he crossed the grass to his seat, he felt a little self-conscious, as if he were on stage again and all eyes were on him.

WOW, Cassie mouthed when she saw him approaching. Sebastian was to her left, nodding with an approving smile. Ben was to her right. He stood and shifted down when he saw Evan approaching.

“You don’t have to move,” Evan said. “We can swap if you like.”

“Nope,” Ben answered, grinning. “This is the fanciest thing I’ve ever been to. Far be it from me not to sit in my assigned seat.”

Compulsion drove Evan’s gaze toward the back of the crowd and the Barksdale row, but it was too far to see anyone in particular, and there was a sea of faces looking his way, drawn like fish to a big purple lure. The woman seated behind him leaned forward and took his hand. “You were wonderful in the show. I was just telling Sebastian I’ve never seen Shakespeare before and I was captivated.”

“Thank you,” Evan said, refocusing his gaze nearer. “That’s very nice of you to say.”

“All of you did a very good job.” She patted his hand to match the beats of the last three words and sat back.

Evan sat down.

“You look amazing,” Cassie said. “Like Harry Styles, only scruffier and jacked.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“It’s the suit,” Ben said. “It’s bright, like something a rock star would wear.”

“Or an actor,” Sebastian said with a wink. “You look very handsome, Evan.”

“So do you. I like the bow tie.”

Sebastian lifted his hands to it as if pulling the bow tighter, then pantomimed brushing dust from his lapel.

The music began. It was Debussy’s Clair de Lune. Delicate piano chords, followed by cello.

Evan’s attention went to the lattice arbor, now a little less white as it had been woven with gardenias. Dark green leaves bearing bright white blossoms that filled the air with their sweet fragrance.

There was movement to his right as the minister entered from the aisle. He went and stood beneath the arbor at the podium.

Everyone else followed in rhythm. Shelly came first, and then Barb. Alden followed, and then Tucker. The women looked striking in their elegant navy blue dresses–a welcome contradiction to the ugly bridesmaid dress stereotype. The gentlemen on Evan’s side looked sharper than ever in their suits.

Tucker, in particular, was incredibly handsome. In their rush to Walmart, Evan had not had a chance to see him in his tux. Three nights before, he had seen Tucker dressed well, but still casual. Seeing him now, dressed to the nines, Evan’s heartbeat increased, fast as a hummingbird’s wings. He felt it beating against his sternum, as if attempting to physically leave his body. Tucker—his Tucker, was alone responsible. In that instant, Evan wished it was the two of them standing up there before this crowd, before the world, before Emmett.

Tucker’s eyes had found Evan. He gave a confident wink, approving Evan’s ensemble. There was something else in his eyes, though–a possessiveness Evan had never felt before. His confidence spoke to Evan, much like the sibling telepathy Tucker shared with Shelly. Only Tucker’s eyes were saying, you’re mine now, Evan. All mine. I may be wearing a tux, but the beast beneath this cummerbund is ready to pounce on anyone who dares to come between us. It was the first time that Evan had felt what Pedro had been saying all along–that Tucker and Titus were truly alike, both sweet and valiant. They just wore their dominant traits opposite.

Any residual doubt regarding his and Tucker’s relationship was erased by that one glance. Ingénue was a role that Evan had never played, and like any other part, he embraced and became it.

The music segued from airy to the heavier chords of the wedding march. The crowd stood and looked to see Titus and Pedro approaching, arm in arm. Evan stood too, feeling like a superhero, dressed in talismanic clothing belonging to both grooms, his new family. As they neared the front row, Titus beamed at the sight of Evan in Pedro’s jacket. Pedro smiled at him too and, again, Evan was overcome with a profound sense of belonging, as if everything transpiring from the moment he first met Tucker to now, in front of all these people, was meant to be. That what Sebastian had said was true and maybe his goal of Atlanta was just a step toward this.

Predestination.

He had never put much faith in the concept, but the culmination of events and people–Tucker, Sebastian, Titus, Pedro, the play, this celebration—felt both prophetic and legendary. Two men were about to pledge their love, joining hands in matrimony. It was so new, so right, and, yes, seemingly meant to be.

They reached the podium, standing to either side, facing each other, and the minister spoke: “Dearly beloved...”

Evan and Tucker’s eyes stayed on Titus and Pedro but occasionally they would glance at each other, silently acknowledging that something incredible was transpiring, both within and separate of the ceremony.

Pedro said his vows first. He spoke humorously of his and Titus’s unlikely pairing, and how their love grew despite the difficulties they faced both socially and culturally in the summer of 1995. Pedro mentioned Titus’s unwavering persistence, his own reluctance, and how their unconditional love for each other triumphed over all obstacles. With tears in his eyes, he proclaimed Titus his best friend, his true love, and his world.

The sight of Pedro’s tears had spurred the waterworks with Titus as well. He cleared his throat to keep composure, and spoke.

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