Page 95 of What It Means To Be Found

We stayed there for most of the morning until the sun rose high enough to start to be too warm. Eloise wasn’t wearing anything but a t-shirt and shorts, and I didn’t want her to get burned. That was the only reason we eventually said our goodbyes, promising to visit more often, and walked back to my truck hand in hand.

Once we were settled in the car, buckling ourselves in, I felt Eloise’s hand squeeze my leg before I turned to look at her.

Thank you for sharing that with me, Eloise signed, something she was improving her skills with rapidly, I love you.

I grabbed her hand in mine, kissing the knuckles of her fingers before settling her hand back on my thigh and pressing, telling her to leave it there before replying with, Thank you. I love you.

It was pure, stupid luck that I had managed to convince a woman like Eloise to give me the time of day. To give me a chance, and to love me like she openly did. I wasn’t going to be careless with the gift that Eloise Bane was. She was mine, and I was hers. And I would spend as much time as Eloise gave me to show her how much that mattered to me.

28

ELOISE

ABOUT A YEAR LATER

“This cake sucks,” Taylor had shouted to us across the table, loud enough to be heard over the DJ. “They should have gone with something better, like pie or cheesecake. Maybe ice cream.”

“Good thing this isn’t your wedding,” Beck rolled her eyes at our friend. “You don’t have to eat it.”

Taylor narrowed their eyes at her as they deliberately forked another massive bite of the cake that they had a beef with into their mouth. I snorted, laughing at our friends as I rested my elbows on the table.

It took a ton of planning, lots of phone calls, and demanding that catering services took me seriously despite the way my face looked, but we all finally made it here. Courtney and Josh were married, and the two lovebirds were busy twerking and grinding and dancing on the makeshift dance floor in the most inappropriate way possible, while their friends and family laughed and cringed at their antics.

Courtney and Josh decided to tie the knot in the state that originally brought them together. In a small venue on the Oregon Coast, surrounded by pine trees and ivy and grass, with the taste of the ocean breeze in the air. The venue was partially indoors, and partially outdoors on the off chance it wouldn’t rain. Thankfully, the outdoor bar had a covering that allowed guests to enjoy the air and scenery, without getting wet. Strings of lights were hung all over the venue, lighting the party up in a tasteful and elegant manner without taking away the beauty of the modern lodge the reception was hosted at.

Josh had already ditched his tie, unbuttoning his dress shirt to show off all the tattoos on his neck and chest and un-tucking it from his pants as he danced with his wife, stars in his eyes.

Courtney had her dress altered so that she could pin her skirt up high enough so that she could move around as she liked. She had left her heels next to me at the table, while dancing barefoot with her husband.

“When you plan your wedding, I’ll make sure there isn’t a single slice of offensive cake,” I winked at Taylor. Their eyes widened as they swallowed their piece and shook their head.

“I’m never getting married,” they emphasized their words with a slice of their hand, “That’s gonna be a no from me, dog.”

Beck smiled and reached a hand up for Taylor to high-five, which they met enthusiastically. Beck had confirmed my previous suspicions earlier, on the flight here. Due to her extra fun layer of religious trauma she endured from her childhood, she couldn’t wrap her head around doing something so traditional and archaic as getting married. Adam, apparently, could go either way. But if his girlfriend had no interest in getting married, neither did he. The two of them were perfectly content to continue “living in sin” as Beck described it.

I…was pretty sure I wanted to do something traditional. I mean, if big raging feminist Courtney Henderson could formalize her partnership, why couldn’t I?

Honestly, any excuse to throw a fun party.

I glanced around the room, looking for my date to my friend’s wedding. My date, who locked us down for this event just over a year ago.

“I saw him and Adam heading towards the bar a moment ago,” Beck informed me with a finger past my shoulder. I turned my head around, looking out towards the open-air space where the bar was located.

I nodded my confirmation at her and settled back in my seat.

Taylor continued to list off the reasons why cake was a poor choice for dessert, when Beck’s eyes perked up at something behind me again. I turned around, a massive grin pulling at my lips.

Adam and Logan were returning from the open bar, two cocktails in Adam’s hands while he tried to make his way through the tables, and also hold a conversation he was having with Beck’s grandmother, Susan.

Susan was being pushed in her wheelchair by Logan, who smiled and shook his head at me. Susan probably just said something ridiculous to him, and I couldn’t wait for him to tell me what it was.

“I was worried you got lost,” Beck smiled as she lifted her head for Adam to press his lips to hers. Logan settled Susan’s wheelchair right between Beck and me, and Adam set both of the cocktails down on the table in front of her.

“You couldn’t decide between the two?” I asked Susan with a lifted eyebrow.

“I didn’t even bother trying. It’s an open bar. YOLO and stuff.” Susan winked at me before taking one of the cocktails and slurping loud enough for Courtney to shout from her spot on the dancefloor to, “Knock it off, Susan!”

I laughed as Logan took his seat next to me, leaning in to press his lips firmly against my neck, and inhaling deeply. I blushed under the intense PDA, but our friends were used to it at this point. While Adam and Beck were more reserved about their PDA, and Courtney and Josh didn’t hold back theirs in any way, Logan and I were a comical mix between the two.

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