How to Say I Do

by Tal Bauer

My thumbs moved in slow circles over his ankles. I was trying—and failing—not to stare at him while he slept. This was a big first for me.

I wasn’t in the habit of lying to myself, though. Noël had captivated me right from the first moment I’d laid eyes on him. Even smashed, Noël looked like he’d walked out of my daydreams.

I liked it, all of it: the way some people looked at us and thought we were together, and what that did to my insides. The way my heart was pounding, and the way my eyes kept sliding sideways, despite my best intentions, to watch the rise and fall of Noël’s chest.

We must have looked like quite the couple. I loved it. The feel of holding another man in public and having someone special to care for, to have in your arms, and to focus all your little attentions and fondness on. Another big first: my first time looking very gay in public.

I kept my arm around him and rubbed circles into his shoulder with my thumb. I couldn’t stop his world from ending, but maybe I could stop it from rattling around so much.

Noël had become one with my side, half of him melted into half of me. My arm was permanently fixed around his shoulder. I rested my cheek on top of his head as our driver told us about the honeymoon massage options. Moonlit. In room. Ocean-salt infused at the edge of the honeymoon villa’s private pool. If only, I thought. If only.

If he’d been in a different place—less heartbroken, less devastated, less drunk—maybe I would… Well, I didn’t know what I’d do. Here was another big first, and a huge, thorny question: do you or don’t you let your heart run free, Wyatt?

But my thoughts cleared some in Dallas because— Wyatt. Holy shit, Wyatt.

I was alone. Again.

What was the point of staying? What was I trying to prove? That I could survive her? Or that I could survive getting dumped so well that I could gallivant through our honeymoon without a single fuck to give?

Wyatt’s eyes were gray and soft as he studied me. “I’ve had a worst day of my life. I know what it’s like to feel alone, and I know what a difference it makes when you’re not.” He was the only one.

God, he had a dimple, an adorable little divot in his left cheek that came out when his smile was as big as it could get.

“How’s it going?” Wyatt hadn’t finished his mango slice. Instead, he was focused on me. All of him, laser focused, like the words I was saying were going to define his day.

“You know, I got nothing to do ’cept sit on the beach. I could tag along, if you want. You don’t have to be alone.” For the first time since I’d met the man, a touch of nerves seemed to run through Wyatt. “Wyatt, aren’t you sick of me? Didn’t I ruin enough of yesterday for you?” “No. I’m not sick of you at all.”

No. It wouldn’t be terrible at all. In fact, the only horrible parts of this honeymoon had been when he wasn’t around. “Well, this is our honeymoon now, so…” I dragged in a breath. “How does a jungle hike to a secret waterfall and a swimming hole sound?” “That sounds like you have a date.”

It could have looked ridiculous, this bright-orange bloom with a hot-pink center tucked into the brim of a cowboy hat atop such a dashing and rugged man. But it didn't. When Wyatt smiled at me as he adjusted his hat, he just looked happy.

As it was, I had nothing to do this week… except be with myself. Which was a gut-shrivelingly terrifying thought.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Wyatt’s voice was so deep. It should have startled me, but all I wanted to do was lean myself into him.

“This place is beautiful, huh?” he said. “It is.” “Are you here?” His gaze dug into mine. “I'm… trying to be.”

He kept grinning, holding me in the circle of his arms as he treaded water for both of us because I was so mad I’d forgotten we were still right over that bottomless hole.

Wyatt paused at the same hibiscus tree on our way back. He seemed to be hunting for another bloom, and, after a lean and a stretch, he plucked a fire-colored flower and held it out to me. “You don’t have a hat for it, but you should get one. That sunburn on the back of your neck is gonna be a beauty.”

Yesterday, he was a cowboy I was drunk and sloppy with, but he’d saved me and poured me from airport to plane to resort with his unfailing kindness. Today, he was tucking flowers into his hat band and protecting me from the jungle, then distracting me from my woes with pretend alligator death throes and hours of conversation.

“Of course. I mean, it was hard. Losing Mom and Dad hit Liam real bad. He's always been young at heart. The true baby of the family, you know? Losing them both ripped him open—” “But what about you?” Wyatt didn't talk much about himself, I was realizing.

He'd lost everything, and he— And he'd spent today with me, trying to cheer me up. I couldn’t breathe.

People like him didn’t exist anymore, I thought.

I tipped my head to his, resting my temple against his ear and beneath the brim of his hat. “I'm sorry.” My hand was still on his arm. He laid his hand on top of mine. “Thanks.” We stayed like that, heads together, hands together, as the band started playing another swaying song.

It took me a minute. Oh. “Did you want to... Wyatt, if you want to dance, or if you want to head out, or if you want to meet— Look, I'm fine. I'm great. If you want to dance, or whatever, go right ahead. Don’t let me hold you back.” “Nah.” He slumped into his chair, long-limbed and relaxed. He bounced his knee against my thigh. “If you’re good, I’m good.”

Wyatt was so different from anyone I knew. He spoke of other worlds inhabited by other people, people who—with their authenticity and selflessness and generosity—were absolutely foreign to me. I had no idea what to say or what to do or how to act around him. All my markers had been blown away. I was adrift, reeling, overwhelmed.

He was waiting for me to say something, though, and the longer I took, the more his eyes seemed to shutter. He was pulling back, drawing away like he’d said too much, revealed too much. No, don’t go— “I want to try your wine,” I blurted out.

I could have listened to him for hours. I could have sat there until the sun rose, until the sky bloomed gold, and until he re-drew my entire world. I loved listening to him, and watching the way his eyes lit up, and how his fingertips danced as he explained each of his vineyard blocks. How he leaned in, and how I followed, and how he tipped his hat back so we could sit as close as a whisper. We were locked inside a dream, a perfect night on a perfect beach—

How was it possible he wanted to spend another day together? His ideal all-inclusive vacation couldn't possibly include saving my ankles or revisiting his oldest, deepest wounds for a stranger's curiosity.

“You want to go?” “Are you kidding? I already can't wait.” “Are you sure you don’t want a break from me? I’m a hot mess, Wyatt, I know I am. I mean, I always am, but especially right now. I’m…” “I don’t want a break at all. I’m having a great time with you.”

“Beachside brunch again in the morning?” Candlelight caressed the curve of Wyatt’s smile.

At seventeen, all that was over. When you’ve got mouths to feed and a ranch to run, there’s no place for fantasy. Besides, I had so many other people’s dreams to tend to. There was no space left for mine.

I’ve always loved complexity.

Noël was so vibrantly alive that being next to him was like being battered by the sea. The presence of him, the churn of all his moving parts, the rush of recognizing his tender places rising to the surface as I got a peek past his armor—

He made me think of roses opening after winter, buds tentatively unfurling and testing the light before embracing a bloom. He made me feel sixteen again, heady and breathless and losing myself in daydreams and fantasies. I was gone. Ass over head, my boots well in the air, hungry for more of Noël.

Its been like 24 hours lmao

I wanted everything: the man who’d eaten both our burgers and poured his broken heart out to a strange cowboy, and the man who’d snuck a bottle of vodka onto a plane and chugged a homemade screwdriver while smirking at me like we were partners in crime. The man who melted into my side when he couldn’t go one step further, and who had trusted me to bring him the rest of the way. The man who looked at me with eyes brighter than all the stars over Texas combined, and who had held on to me and said he was sorry I’d lost my father with a softness that moved deep down into my most fragile, hidden places.

Something inside me was opening to Noël. Something like old hopes and sixteen-year-old dreams, and like watching the sun set behind those first ten acres with m...

So even though I was tumbling, and even though I wanted, and even though Noël spun me in every wild direction, I knew this wasn’t going to be a romance.

I certainly didn’t need to walk him back to his villa. Or ask him what we’d be doing tomorrow, all the while holding my breath and crossing my fingers and toes that he’d want to keep honeymooning with me. But I had, and I did, and…

It was enough, I thought, to fall in love, even though he wouldn’t fall, too. It was enough to go a little crazy inside myself, and to feel like the world had lit on fire, and for these few days, to pretend that anything was possible.

but at some point, I’d been on his mind. I’d take that. I’d take that all day long.

I turned to Noël. He was grinning from ear to ear. My heart went haywire.

I held on to the other end so he wouldn’t flip himself. He shot me a wondrous smile, almost like he was asking, Are you seeing this, too? I surely was.

“I loved him. And you loved her. That’s enough to change you.”

“Change isn’t a bad thing. Look where you are. Look what you’ve figured out.”

There he was, my hidden Noël, the jewel gleaming at the center of his bruise. He seemed so suddenly vulnerable, unprepared to feel this viciously on our little beach. I couldn’t help it. I laced our fingers together as another wave slipped up our thighs.

I could picture it, my big hands crawling up Noël’s back and pulling him in. I’d rise to meet him halfway. I’d want to taste his kiss so badly that I wouldn’t want to wait. He’d whisper my name, and he’d think I’ve never, and, But I want this, and he’d say, Kiss me, Wyatt, and I would.

Soon enough, his eyes drooped closed, and I pulled him closer to me and cradled him against my chest.