Page 142 of Van Cort
Admitting that I loved them was what I needed to do. It made it real, outside of the three of us. She didn’t understand, and she was my barometer for how others might see our relationship. And led to more questions to Everett, but the letters morphed into messages.
How am I meant to marry both of you? Do we pretend?
His reply was instant. Which, considering his schedule, showed me he meant what he said in his second letter.
Unless there’s a law I can get passed through Congress, quickly, I suppose, in the eyes of the law, yes. I do have a few favours owed, though.
A few minutes later, another text dropped from him.
There will be three rings. We will make that make sense, even if it legally doesn’t. Besides, no one in a church would know if it was me or West, or both of us at different times, would they?
Church?
He couldn’t have meant that. Would I want to marry in a church?
And then anothercame.
It will be me who puts the ring on you, though. Non-negotiable.
None of it helped me understand the logistics, but it did make me smile.
Each word or line from them, either in a letter or in a message, strengthened the image and understanding I had for each of them. The differences became more acute, and those, alongside piecing together their past, were like the missing links to understanding them as two people.
Vancouver was key to that. It was clear that what happened to each of them there was what turned them into the opposite sides of the same coin. Everett’s hope and joy was beaten out of him. West couldn’t have endured the same and still held onto the spark of life that is so infectious in him.
That was a dark part of their past that I didn’t want to cloud our future. Not yet, at least. If we were talking of marriage andweddings, of commitment and family, there would be time for them to tell me their own truths. It was enough for me to know what I’d worked out.
Despite writing and asking questions, I never gave them a direct answer to the one Everett asked of me, nor did they try to propose in the pages they wrote.
I did turn the job offer down. Resigning from the firm gave me the most satisfaction – I’d worked so hard all my life to be seen for my capabilities. Once they were finally recognised, it set something inside of me free. Like I’d proved I was good enough, and I could live off that knowledge for years.
Of course, I kept that a secret, too – one I do intend to share with Everett and West, just not yet. Along with my answer to the ornate box in my pocket.
But I have to do this part face-to-face.
A year is a long time, and despite all of the ways they both told me they loved me, it’s still a huge leap I’m making.
The flight eventually lands, and before long, as if a whirlwind took me, I’m back at my place in Seattle. It seems small somehow. Considering the place I had in New York, I’m not surprised. But I stand, transfixed by the part of my life that led me to Everett in the first place. It all seems so long ago, so alien to who I am now and who they are. Both of them. I can remember Andre picking me up. The confusion. The strange arrangements that all make sense now. Sex in the hallway. Sex everywhere. With each of them. Who could forget that?
They’ll both be here soon.
Our first meeting since I left them.
The doorbell sends the butterflies into overdrive, but there’s no need for them.
As I open the door, my heart soars as I see him. Dressed in his immaculate suit, the lines as sharp as ever – as intimidating as ever.
God, I’ve missed him. And I realise I know who it is.
“Where’s West?” I look behind for him, and realise I’m disappointed he’s not here with him.
“I’m not enough?” I tilt my head, confused, but he smirks and waves the comment off. “He’s on his way. He told me to make sure I was on time.”
Only corresponding with one of them at a time has made me forget just how in tune they are with each other. Everett would want to know the situation before having a conversation with all of us.
I smile at him, figuring out how to navigate through this.
If it were West here first, I imagine I’d be swept up into his arms, the classic, like in the movies. But that isn’t Everett. He doesn’t show his love like that, and I have the love letters to prove it.
