Page 32 of Binding Their Hearts

Henry granted Jay the same peaceful kiss on the forehead that he’d graced her with. “You are ours, Jay.” His commanding voice no longer filled the room, but the gravelly whisper gave her shivers. “Eternity itself cannot outlast that truth.”

Jay sighed like a man who’d seen paradise. Maybe he had; his face had the glassy, dazed look of subspace. Henry gently lifted Jay’s hands from the headboard, and Jay scraped his fingers toward her. She interlaced their fingers; he grunted and tugged her closer.

“You were beautiful, stud.” As she rolled up alongside, her temperature spiked at least five degrees from the heat pouring off them. “And unquestionably ours. No ifs, ands, or—well, maybe a butt or two. Two super-sexy, driving faster than the speed of sound butts.”

Disentangling himself from Jay, Henry paused in mid-unthrust. “If I’m not mistaken, you agreed to marry the two aforementioned asses, my dear.”

Henry. Cracking jokes. They’d gone completely around the bend. “Lucky for me, they’re attached to these amazing guys I know. Who I’m definitely, positively, absolutely going to marry. They can’t slip out of it now.”

The ceremony wouldn’t be legal, of course. But the commitments would be real.

“So what are we waiting for?” Cozied between Henry and Alice, Jay wriggled and stretched and yawned. “Let’s do it. Next weekend? Where is it? Who are we inviting?”

She patted his chest, and Henry captured her hand. Jay’s heart thumped beneath their palms.

“Something a touch more elaborate than that, I hope.” Henry kept disappearing behind her eyelids. He should do something about that, that’s what he should do. “But we may discuss it tomorrow. We’ll have plenty of time at our picnic.”

A picnic would be nice. Henry was so thoughtful.

“Thank you, Henry.” And Jay had that lovely sweet voice.

They would have to go to sleep first, though.

“Thank you for asking.”

And turn out the lights before that. And grab the covers. On the floor somewhere. She’d do it, as soon as she lifted her head from Jay’s shoulder. Really, though, wasn’t this the best place to be? Drowsy, content, spending the rest of her life with these men at her side. Paradise.

Chapter sixteen

Jay

Jay sauntered into Danny’s office on Wednesday and poured himself a glass of water. This would probably be their last meeting, which was kinda too bad, because Danny wasn’t a terrible guy for a therapist. He’d cured Jay in, like, four sessions. Last month, “boyfriend” was too much to tell his family, and now he was dancing with Henry in public and getting married. He could’ve had himself fixed up years ago if he’d listened to Henry about therapy in the first place.

“So, Jay.” Cross-legged in his chair, Danny flipped back a page in his notebook. His hair stood up in tiny red spikes, and he’d pushed his slouchy shirt sleeves to his elbows. “Last week we talked about setting boundaries and the fantastic progress you made with your brother. We agreed you would try conquering a fear if you had the opportunity. Do you want to start there, or is something specific going on for you that you want to address?”

Jay sipped the water, which had strawberry slices and green leafy things floating in it today—a little sweet, a little herby, decent overall. He set the glass on the coaster and dropped into his chair, his cycling shorts rustling as he settled. This was gonna knock Danny’s socks off. “I danced with Henry”—the glee vibrated through him, still buzzing almost a week later—“and we’re getting married!”

“You’re—” Danny’s pen fell into his lap, and he groped for it, uncrossing his legs and half standing before he found it. “Congratulations, Jay, that’s—wow.” He sat with his notepad against his knee, pen gripped in his fist above it. “You and Henry are getting married?”

“Me and Henry and Alice.” Leaving an odd person out wasn’t gonna happen. Henry said he’d work some magic with lawyers to make sure they’d all have kinship rights, like hospital visits and inheriting stuff, since their marriage wouldn’t be official-official. That’s probably why Danny had a confused squint. “Not the government kind—they haven’t changed the laws on that or anything. But we’ll have a real ceremony in front of the community.”

Henry and Alice had nixed his suggestion to do it Saturday, because these things needed planning. But ever since Henry’s proposal Friday night, antsy excitement overtook him when he had five minutes to himself. He, unlovable, good-for-nothing, always-in-the-way Jay, was getting married. Not one but two whole people wanted to spend the rest of their lives with him, and they would say so in front of anyone who asked.

“Say more about getting married—how are you feeling about it?”

“I wish the day would get here already.” Not that they’d picked a day yet. Or a place, or who they’d invite, or much of anything. But they had a gigantic list of decisions to make about all that stuff. “There’s way too many details to fuss over.”

“Remind me, Jay”—hunched over his notes, Danny lifted his head and studied him—“did you have a formal ceremony when Henry took you into his service?”

“Just at the front desk that first night.” He’d been so nervous-excited he could barely breathe. And then Henry had announced Jay’s ribbon restrictions, and dreamy warmth took over his body. The room became more real than real, like he’d stepped into another Jay, a life in some other reality he couldn’t possibly deserve.

“Any witnesses?”

“Maybe a handful. Our friend Emma—Henry’s friend then, but our friend now. Mostly I remember Henry. Hear him. His voice is loud—usually he’s got this soft, cozy, for-my-ears-only purr, but he’s using his crisp classroom voice like he’s giving a lecture.”

“And you felt…”

“Giddy. Unreal.” The excess energy thrummed in him with the memory, his leg jostling, his toes tapping the floor.

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