Page 37 of Pages of My Heart
Thomas rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling, laying still and quiet for a while. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse with emotion. “Do you have any idea how much I wish we could be married, like a normal couple?” He turns his face to Charlie, eyes wet. “How much I wish I could stand up in front of God and our families and declare my love for you?”
Charlie would do anything to take Thomas’s anguish away, but as much as they have gained this weekend, there are certain things he knows they can never have, like a wedding or children. A proper family. Despite all of Thomas’s assurances, Charlie’s greatest fear is still that Thomas will leave him one day to begin a family. He’s seen the yearning on his face when he plays with his nieces and nephews. Thomas deserves to be a father, and Charlie can never give him that. But he doesn’t say any of what’s on his mind, not wanting to ruin this otherwise perfect night.
“The way I see it, now that we’re livin’ together under this roof, you are my husband. We may not be able to have a ceremony or rings or any of that, but we can do all the rest. Declare our intentions to each other. Everything that really matters.”
Thomas blinks, then the smallest of smiles curls at his lips. “Can we actually do that?”
“Anything for you, sweetheart. You know that.”
Without another word, Thomas gets up to blow out the candles and then burrows back in under the blankets, where they can sleep in each other’s arms, skin against skin, from this day forward. After a few more kisses, they settle down for sleep. Charlie figures Thomas has nothing more to say on the matter, and after all the heavy lifting and excitement of the day, he finds himself soon drifting off to sleep. And then—
“What about tattoos?”
“Hmm?”
“You know . . . instead of rings. We could get tattoos.”
Charlie hums again, nuzzling sleepily against the soft hair on Thomas’s chest. He fucking hates needles, so he’s not itching to let some asshole poke him with one a couple hundred times. But all that seems a lot to explain right now, especially when he’s so warm and comfortable and relaxed. He settles on repeating what he said before, knowing Thomas won’t hold him to it in the morning—or even remember.
He forces his lazy lips to move, mumbling into Thomas’s warm skin. “Anything for you, sweetheart. ’Member?”
Thomas
They spend the next week thinking long and hard about their tattoos. If it were up to Thomas, they would’ve rushed down to a back alley parlor the very next day, but Charlie reminds him that whatever they choose needs to be meaningful to each other, while seemingly incidental to anyone who should accidentally see them.
Deciding on placement is easy—over their hearts to signify their love while also being hidden under clothes most of the time. But they cannot have the same tattoo nor use names or even initials. Charlie briefly considers “Red” but quickly rules it out since he uses the nickname in front of family and friends. In the end, Thomas decides upon “Forever yours,” inked in blue for Charlie’s eyes, while Charlie chooses a red heart with “Eternal” woven through it.
They separately visit two different parlors on two different days, both as a precaution and to make the reveal more special. Thomas has his tattoo completed on a Thursday, and he sees off a very visibly nervous Charlie the next day. They both keep them covered until Saturday when they’ve agreed to take their vows.
Now, as they stand facing each other in their sitting room dressed in their Sunday best, they dissolve into nervous laughter.
“Is this just silly?” Thomas asks.
“No, it’s just . . . hell, I dunno.” Charlie shoves his hands deep into his trouser pockets. “It’s just weird to be togged to the bricks like this when it’s just the two of us. What have ya turned me into, Red? You always got me doing something romantic these days.”
“This was your idea!” he laughs. “But we don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. We can just show each other the tattoos instead.”
Charlie steps closer, his smile dropping as he takes Thomas’s hands. “No, I want to.”
Thomas searches Charlie’s eyes, looking for the truth and finding it, clear as a crystal blue lagoon. “Then I’ll go first,” he says.
He takes a deep breath as the importance of what they are doing comes into sharp focus. There’s no need to be scared, he reminds himself. It’s just Charlie. Charlie, who knows what his thoughts are before he even speaks them half the time, who knows how to touch him so his body burns with want, who sees the best in him when he cannot see it in himself.
Still, his hands shake in Charlie’s warm grip.
“My darling Charlie,” he begins. “I’ll never forget the day I met you. I was so scared and unsure stepping into that club, but you made me feel alive for the first time in my life. We’ve come a long way in the last three years, and grown up a lot, too. Together. We found each other, but in doing so, I think we found ourselves. Our true selves. Moving into this house, making a home with you . . . it’s already brought me such happiness . . .”
Thomas pauses as his voice grows unsteady. Charlie gives his hands a gentle squeeze, and with a shaky breath he soldiers on.
“I vow to you, from this day forward, to love you, and to cherish you, each and every day. I will remain loyal and steadfast by your side through sickness and in health. Charlie, I take you as my husband, my family . . . and the symbol of that commitment is forever etched over my heart.”
Thomas lifts Charlie’s right hand and places it over his tattoo, over his heart. Charlie’s eyes are glassy and full of softness. Thomas wants to gather him up and never let go.
“I love you, Charlie Miller.”
Charlie takes Thomas’s other hand and presses a kiss to his palm before he begins.
“Thomas . . . my life was filled with fear and hate and violence growing up. I never thought I could be happy . . . especially when I realized what I am. You saved me from a life of suffering and replaced it with a life full of love. So much damn love, Red.”
