🔥 Bonus Chapter

The Wedding
from Conflict of Interest
by Jace Wilder

⚠️ Spoiler warning & content note: This bonus chapter takes place three months after the events of Conflict of Interest. If you haven’t read the book yet, save this for when you have. Contains explicit MM sexual content (graphic on-page wedding-night scene), themes of grief and re-marriage after the loss of a spouse, the removal of a wedding ring, and one Halden Logistics chairman in pajamas. 18+.

A bonus scene for everyone who finished Conflict of Interest wanting to be on the lawn at Hudson on the morning Adrian Cross took the ring off, in front of his own mirror, on his own — and on the bed in the master bedroom, that night, when Nolan called him husband for the first time.

The Wedding

Three Months Later — Sunday, the twenty-fifth of August, 8:14 A.M.

The first thing Adrian did, on a Sunday morning at eight-fourteen on the twenty-fifth of August, in the master bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson that he had not, in seven years and ten months, slept in until the night before — was, in fact, on his own, in the small considered patient careful private particular interior of his own head, in front of the small considered patient particular antique mirror over the small considered patient particular dresser Daniel had picked out at the small considered patient particular estate sale in Hudson in 2009, take, very slowly, with the pad of his thumb, the small considered patient particular ring off his right hand.

He held it.

He held it, very briefly, in his open palm. He had, in fact, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fourth of August, in the small considered patient particular small leather travel kit that he had carried up to Hudson on Saturday, brought, with him, in the small considered patient particular zippered inner pocket of it, the small considered patient particular soft black velvet box that, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the seventh of June in 2003, in the small considered patient particular jewelry shop on Madison Avenue Daniel had, in fact, walked into alone, the small considered patient particular ring had, in fact, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the seventh of June in 2003, come out of.

He took the box out of the kit on the dresser.

He set it on the small considered patient particular polished wood of the dresser.

He opened it.

He set, very precisely, the small considered patient particular ring back into the small considered patient particular soft black velvet of the small considered patient particular interior of the small considered patient particular box.

He closed the box.

He set, on the small considered patient particular polished wood of the dresser, very precisely, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, on the small considered patient particular morning of his own wedding, the small considered patient particular soft black velvet box that contained the small considered patient particular ring his own husband had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the seventh of June in 2003, in fact, given him.

He looked, for a long beat, at his right hand.

The small considered patient particular pale band of skin where, in fact, the ring had been, on the small considered patient particular hand, for fifteen years and two months and, by the small considered patient particular accounting of all of it, eighteen days, was, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, very specifically there.

It would be, by the small considered patient particular accounting of all of it, the only small considered patient particular evidence of the ring on his hand for, in fact, the small considered patient particular foreseeable future.

He thought, in the small clean considered patient careful private particular interior of his own head, with the small considered patient particular soft accuracy of the small considered patient particular voice of his own husband on a Tuesday afternoon at the small considered patient particular desk at the window of the small considered patient particular hotel room in Frankfurt in 1998:

Daniel.

I am, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, on a Sunday morning at eight-eighteen, in the small considered patient particular master bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, in fact, ready.

I am, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, very specifically, going to ask the man you would have, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the third of February of this year, in fact, very specifically, liked, to, in fact, marry me, on the small considered patient particular grass of the small considered patient particular front lawn of the small considered patient particular house we, in fact, in 2009, in fact, picked out, at three forty-six p.m. local time.

And I am, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, going to do it without the small considered patient particular ring on my hand.

I am — Daniel —

— going to keep, very specifically, the small considered patient particular box, and the small considered patient particular ring inside it, on the small considered patient particular dresser of the small considered patient particular master bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, on the small considered patient particular polished wood of it, where I, in fact, can, every small considered patient particular Saturday and Sunday and the small considered patient particular handful of weeks in the small considered patient particular summer when, in fact, we, very specifically, come up, see it.

I am — Daniel —

— alive.

I am, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, in fact, very specifically, getting married.

I love you.

I will, on every small considered patient particular morning of the small considered patient particular rest of my small considered patient particular life, in fact, love you.

He closed his eyes for a beat.

He opened them.

He picked up the small considered patient particular soft black velvet box, very gently, with both hands; he set it, very precisely, in fact, in the small considered patient particular center of the small considered patient particular polished wood of the dresser.

He left it there.

He went, in his clean white linen shirt and his soft dark trousers and his bare feet, on the small considered patient particular old wooden floor of the small considered patient particular hallway of the small considered patient particular house, downstairs.

Mariana, in the kitchen, had made the eggs.

She had made them, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, in the small considered patient particular small carbon-steel pan Daniel had bought, in 2002, in fact, on the small considered patient particular honeymoon in Mallorca, with the small considered patient particular figs from the small considered patient particular small considered patient particular tree at the corner of the lawn that had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the third of February of this year, in fact, somehow, in the small considered patient particular interval of the previous twenty-three years, become, in fact, a fig tree.

She had set, on the small considered patient particular long pine table of the small considered patient particular kitchen of the small considered patient particular house, three small considered patient particular plates.

She had laid, on each small considered patient particular plate, very precisely, in the small considered patient particular soft warm late-summer light of the small considered patient particular morning, a small considered patient particular halved fig in a pool of honey.

She turned, when Adrian came in, in fact, from the stove.

She did not, at first, say anything.

She looked at him.

She looked at his right hand.

She looked back at his face.

She did not, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, comment.

She picked up the small considered patient particular spatula. She slid the small considered patient particular fan of the small considered patient particular soft eggs from the small considered patient particular small carbon-steel pan onto the small considered patient particular plate at the head of the small considered patient particular table.

She said, very simply, in the small clean considered patient careful private particular voice of a sixty-six-year-old woman who had, in fact, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, watched a man she had been the small considered patient particular witness to for forty years walk into a small considered patient particular kitchen with one small considered patient particular hand on his right hand without, in fact, a small considered patient particular ring on it for the first time in fifteen years and two months and eighteen days:

“Mister.”

“Mariana.”

“He is in the lawn.”

“Yes.”

“He is, in fact, with the small considered patient particular flowers.”

“Yes.”

“You will, in fact, in twenty minutes, go, in fact, see him.”

“Yes.”

A long beat.

“Mister.”

“Yes.”

“Eat your eggs.”

He ate the eggs.

He ate them, on the small considered patient particular long pine table of the small considered patient particular kitchen of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, in fact, slowly.

He drank, in fact, the small considered patient particular cup of black coffee Mariana had set, very precisely, at the small considered patient particular corner of his plate.

At nine-oh-two, he stood up off the small considered patient particular pine bench.

He walked, on his bare feet, on the small considered patient particular old wooden floor of the small considered patient particular hallway, in his clean white linen shirt and his soft dark trousers, through the small considered patient particular long flagstone porch and onto the small considered patient particular front lawn.

Nolan, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August at nine-oh-three, was in the small considered patient particular long soft white-blooming meadow at the far end of the small considered patient particular front lawn, in his joggers and a soft gray T-shirt that was, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, in fact, two days overdue for the small considered patient particular wash.

He was on his knees on the small considered patient particular short late-August grass.

He was, very specifically, with the small considered patient particular old garden trowel from the shed, in fact, planting French lavender.

There were, on the long stretch of the small considered patient particular soft fieldstone wall at the edge of the small considered patient particular flagstone path that ran from the small considered patient particular long flagstone porch of the house out to the small considered patient particular old maple at the far end of the lawn, six small considered patient particular terracotta pots; and there were, in the long grass beside him, six small considered patient particular plants of French lavender, in their small considered patient particular plastic nursery containers, waiting.

Adrian, on the small considered patient particular flagstone of the long path, paused.

He stood for a long beat.

He watched the man on his knees in the grass, in fact, plant the second pot.

The man, in the long warm late-August sun, did not, at first, look up.

He worked. He set the small considered patient particular plant in. He patted the small considered patient particular soil down. He, with the small considered patient particular old enamel watering can Daniel had, in 2010, bought at the small considered patient particular antique store in Catskill, watered the small considered patient particular roots.

He moved to the third pot.

He looked up.

He saw Adrian on the small considered patient particular flagstone.

His eyes went, in order: Adrian’s face, Adrian’s clean white linen shirt, Adrian’s right hand.

Adrian’s right hand.

He stayed, for a long beat, very still in the grass, with one warm dirty hand on the small considered patient particular handle of the small considered patient particular old garden trowel and the other warm hand on the small considered patient particular plastic rim of the third small considered patient particular nursery container, and he did not, for a beat, do anything.

Then, very slowly, in the small considered patient particular warm small late-August grass of the small considered patient particular front lawn of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson at nine-oh-five on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, on the small considered patient particular morning of the small considered patient particular wedding, in fact, sitting back on his heels, he set the small considered patient particular trowel down.

He set, very precisely, the small considered patient particular nursery container in the grass beside him.

He stood up.

He came across the small considered patient particular lawn to the small considered patient particular flagstone path.

He stopped, very precisely, three feet from Adrian.

He, in the long warm late-August sun, with one warm dirty hand at his own side and the other warm clean hand at his own side, looked at Adrian.

He didn’t, at first, say anything.

His eyes — and Adrian, on the small considered patient particular flagstone, in the long warm late-August sun, registered with the small clean considered patient careful private particular accuracy of a man whose eyes had, by the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, been reading this small specific particular face for, in fact, ten months and seven days — were, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, on the small considered patient particular flagstone path of the small considered patient particular front lawn, very specifically, full.

“Adrian.”

“Yes.”

“You —“

“Yes.”

“Adrian —“

“Yes.”

“You took it off.”

“Yes.”

“When.”

“Eight-fourteen.”

A pause.

“This morning.”

“Yes.”

“On —“

“Yes.”

“You did, in fact, decide.”

“Yes.”

A long beat.

A very long beat.

The man across the small considered patient particular flagstone, with both warm hands now at his sides, with his clean dirty face in the long warm late-August sun, with the small considered patient particular soft warm dusty blue-purple of two newly planted small considered patient particular pots of French lavender on the long stretch of the small considered patient particular soft fieldstone wall behind him, did not, for a long beat, do anything.

Then he came, very slowly, the three feet across the small considered patient particular flagstone to Adrian.

He put one warm clean hand at the side of Adrian’s face.

He, very slowly, put one warm dirty thumb against the long warm pale band of small considered patient particular pale skin on Adrian’s right hand where, in fact, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, the small considered patient particular ring had been for fifteen years and two months and, by the small considered patient particular accounting of all of it, eighteen days.

He held it there for a long beat.

He looked at Adrian.

He said, in the small clean considered patient careful private particular voice he had been using on this lawn for the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, very quietly:

“Adrian.”

“Yes.”

“You did —“

“Yes.”

“Good, baby.”

A long beat.

Adrian, on the small considered patient particular flagstone of the long path of the small considered patient particular front lawn of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, in front of, in fact, the small considered patient particular man he was, in fact, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August, going to marry, in front of two newly planted small considered patient particular pots of French lavender on the long stretch of the small considered patient particular soft fieldstone wall, with one warm dirty thumb of the small considered patient particular man on the small considered patient particular pale band of skin on his own right hand, did not, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, in front of him, in fact, cry.

He came, in the small honest place at the back of his throat, very, very close.

3:46 P.M.

The wedding, on the small considered patient particular grass of the small considered patient particular front lawn of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, took, in fact, eleven minutes.

It was, by the small considered patient particular accounting of all of it, the small considered patient particular best eleven minutes of Adrian Cross’s life.

There were, on the small considered patient particular long stretch of the small considered patient particular grass, in fact, twenty-two adult human beings.

Olivia, in a soft dark green linen dress, with Esme, in soft cream linen, on her arm, with both small considered patient particular thin gold bands on their right hands. Felix, in a dark blue suit. Marin, in a small considered patient particular long charcoal dress with the small considered patient particular pearl pin Daniel had, in fact, in 2014, bought her for her sixtieth birthday. Mariana, in a small considered patient particular soft navy blouse and dark slacks, with the small considered patient particular long silver chain her own husband had, in fact, given her in 1989. Karen Mitsuhashi, in fact, who had, on the small considered patient particular morning of the second of June, in fact, retired from the chairman’s office and had, in fact, been, in the small considered patient particular interval since, in fact, in the small considered patient careful private particular ordinary domestic way of all of it, very specifically, friends with Adrian Cross. The Halden chairman, who had, in fact, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, at eighty-three, with his small considered patient particular cardiologist’s permission, in fact, in the small considered patient particular sun, in pajamas under a long linen jacket, in his own wheelchair, in fact, come.

And the small considered patient particular friends of Nolan from the small considered patient particular long warm full life of a twenty-eight-year-old former four-hundred-meter sprinter from Cold Spring, New York: his mother. His sister, Sophie. His sister’s husband. His agent. His sprint coach’s widow. Marisa, who ran the studio. Apex’s senior staff. Two of his closest clients of seven years, who had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August, in fact, become friends.

Esme, who had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the third of February of this year, in fact, decided that, in fact, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August, she was going to officiate, did, in fact, officiate.

She did it, in the small clean considered patient careful private particular voice of an epidemiologist, beautifully.

Olivia, in the front, with one warm hand at her own throat at the small considered patient particular pearl pendant Daniel had, in fact, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the seventh of June in 2003, in fact, given her, did, in fact, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August, in front of the small considered patient particular man she had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the eighteenth of November of last year, in fact, in this same kitchen, in fact, called, in fact, a coward, and who had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August, in fact, not been, cry.

She came, in the small honest place at the back of her throat — Adrian, on the small considered patient particular grass, registered, in fact — very close.

What Adrian, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August, was going to remember for the small considered patient particular rest of his small considered patient particular life:

He was going to remember the small specific particular thing of the small considered patient particular pale soft late-August light coming down across the small considered patient particular long warm grass.

He was going to remember the small specific particular thing of the small considered patient particular soft warm dusty blue-purple of six newly planted small considered patient particular pots of French lavender on the long stretch of the small considered patient particular soft fieldstone wall.

He was going to remember the small specific particular thing of the small considered patient particular soft warm late-August scent of the small considered patient particular fig tree at the corner of the lawn.

He was going to remember the small specific particular thing of his own daughter, in the front, with one warm hand at her own throat.

He was going to remember the small specific particular thing of the small considered patient particular man across from him, in fact, on the small considered patient particular grass, in his own clean white linen shirt and his own soft dark trousers, with the small considered patient particular long line of his soft dark hair in the long warm late-August sun, with one warm clean hand in fact in his own hand, very specifically, looking at him.

He was going to remember the small specific particular thing of the small considered patient particular small clean considered patient careful private particular voice of the small considered patient particular man across from him, on the small considered patient particular grass, with the small considered patient particular small considered patient particular soft warm clean considered patient particular voice he had been using for, in fact, ten months and seven days, in fact, saying:

Yes. I do. Yes, baby. Yes.

Sunday, the twenty-fifth of August, 11:42 P.M.

The bedroom of the small considered patient particular master bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, with the small considered patient particular soft warm low setting of the small considered patient particular bedside lamp, with the small considered patient particular soft warm long evening cricket-song coming in through the small considered patient particular open window, with the small considered patient particular soft black velvet box on the small considered patient particular polished wood of the dresser at the foot of the bed in fact closed, was, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, very specifically, the small considered patient particular bedroom of two adult human beings who had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August, very specifically, gotten married.

They came up the small considered patient particular old wooden staircase at eleven thirty-one.

They had, after, in fact, dinner, in fact, danced.

They had, after, in fact, the dancing, in fact, said, on the small considered patient particular flagstone porch, with the small considered patient particular soft warm late-August stars over the long line of the small considered patient particular Catskill ridges to the west, with one warm hand of Olivia at the long line of her own father’s lower back, in fact, goodnight to every small considered patient particular adult human being on the lawn.

By eleven-twenty, the lawn had, in fact, been, in the small considered patient particular soft warm late-August dark, in fact, empty.

They had come up the staircase together.

Adrian, on the small considered patient particular threshold of the small considered patient particular master bedroom, in fact, paused.

The room — in the small considered patient particular soft warm low setting of the small considered patient particular bedside lamp on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August — was, by the small considered patient particular accounting of all of it, in fact, the room.

It was the room he and Daniel had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the seventh of June in 2003, in fact, on a small considered patient particular evening after the small considered patient particular wedding, on the small considered patient particular bed of, in fact, slept in.

It was the room he had, in seven years and ten months and, by the small considered patient particular accounting of all of it, fifteen days, not, in any meaningful way, in fact, slept in.

It was the room he had, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fourth of August, with the small considered patient particular soft warm careful patient hand of the small considered patient particular other adult human being who lived, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fourth of August, with him, in fact, slept in.

It was the room he was, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, going to, very specifically, with his own husband — his own husband — in fact, sleep in.

Nolan, behind him, with one warm hand at the long line of his lower back, said, very quietly:

“Hi.”

“Adrian.”

“Yes.”

“Are you all right.”

A pause.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. I am — Nolan — I am, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, in fact, very all right.”

“Mm.”

“Come in, please.”

They came in.

Nolan closed the door.

He came up behind Adrian.

He came up behind him, very slowly, with one warm clean hand at the long warm line of Adrian’s lower back, with the small considered patient particular soft warm slow careful patient considered way he had, on the small considered patient particular nights of the previous ten months and seven days, in fact, come up behind him in a great many small considered patient particular bedrooms, on a great many small considered patient particular nights, in a great many small considered patient particular cities; and he stood there, for a long beat, with one warm clean hand at the long warm line of Adrian’s lower back, with the long warm line of his own bare clean considered patient particular forearm — he had, somewhere on the lawn, somewhere in the dancing, very specifically, rolled the cuffs of the clean white linen shirt twice to the elbow — at the long warm line of the small considered patient particular dark fabric of Adrian’s soft dark trousers.

He didn’t, at first, say anything.

He simply stood with one warm clean hand at the long warm line of Adrian’s lower back, in the small considered patient particular soft warm low setting of the small considered patient particular bedside lamp, in the small considered patient particular bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, and let the small considered patient particular very specific architecture of the small considered patient particular night, in fact, be the night.

After some interval — Adrian, in the moment, was not measuring — Nolan, very slowly, in the small clean considered patient careful private particular voice he had been using in this house for the small considered patient particular weekend, said, very quietly:

“Husband.”

A long beat.

A very long beat.

Adrian — fifty-three years old, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, in the small considered patient particular bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, with the small considered patient particular pale band of small considered patient particular skin on his own right hand on which, in fact, he had not, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August, put the small considered patient particular ring back on, with one warm clean hand of the small considered patient particular man he had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August at three forty-six p.m., on the small considered patient particular grass of the small considered patient particular front lawn of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, in front of, in fact, twenty-two adult human beings, very specifically, married, at the long warm line of his own lower back — did not, for a long beat, do anything.

Then, very quietly, in the small considered patient particular voice he was, in fact, going to use for the small considered patient particular rest of his small considered patient particular life, he said:

“Husband.”

Nolan exhaled.

He exhaled, very specifically, with the small considered patient particular soft warm involuntary release of a man who had, in his life, perhaps once, been called, by another adult human being, on a small considered patient particular night, the small specific particular thing he, in fact, wanted to be called.

He turned Adrian around, very slowly, with the warm clean hand at the long warm line of his lower back.

He looked at him.

He kissed him.

The kiss was, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, the kiss.

It was, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, in the small considered patient particular bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, with one small considered patient particular ring in fact still on the small considered patient particular polished wood of the small considered patient particular dresser at the foot of the bed in the small considered patient particular soft warm closed velvet box, the small considered patient particular kiss of two adult human beings who had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August at three forty-six p.m., on the small considered patient particular grass of the small considered patient particular front lawn, in fact, gotten married.

They undressed each other slowly.

They undressed each other on the small considered patient particular hooked rug at the foot of the small considered patient particular bed, very slowly, with the small considered patient particular slow warm careful patient unhurried deliberate evenness of two men who had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August, in fact, the small considered patient particular rest of their small considered patient particular lives in front of them.

Nolan — and Adrian, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, was going to think about this, in fact, for the small considered patient particular rest of his small considered patient particular life — undid, with the small considered patient particular slow careful patient unhurried deliberate evenness of his own clean fingers, the small considered patient particular small warm linen buttons of Adrian’s clean white linen shirt, very slowly, by inches.

He undid, very slowly, the small considered patient particular soft dark belt at Adrian’s waist.

He undid, very slowly, the small considered patient particular soft dark trousers.

He slid, very slowly, the small considered patient particular dark trousers down the long warm line of Adrian’s hips and the long warm line of his thighs and the long warm line of his calves and onto the small considered patient particular hooked rug at his feet.

He stood, in his own clean white linen shirt and his own soft dark trousers, in front of Adrian, who was, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, in fact, very specifically, in the small considered patient particular soft warm low setting of the small considered patient particular bedside lamp, in the small considered patient particular soft cotton briefs and his own bare clean considered patient particular skin and the small considered patient particular pale band of skin on his own right hand, in his husband’s bedroom.

Adrian did, then, the small specific particular thing the small clean considered patient careful private particular interior of his head was, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, going to be, in fact, the small specific particular thing he was going to do.

He undressed his husband.

He undid the small considered patient particular small warm linen buttons of Nolan’s clean white linen shirt, very slowly, by inches. He slid the small considered patient particular shirt off his shoulders. He undid the small considered patient particular soft dark belt at Nolan’s waist. He undid the small considered patient particular soft dark trousers. He slid them down the long warm line of his husband’s hips, the long warm line of his thighs, the long warm line of his calves; and his husband stepped out of them.

He, at the foot of the small considered patient particular bed of the small considered patient particular master bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August at eleven forty-seven, in his own soft cotton briefs, in fact, looked at his husband.

His husband, in his own soft cotton briefs, looked back.

What happened after, on the small considered patient particular bed of the small considered patient particular master bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, was — and Adrian was, in fact, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-sixth of August, with his husband on his chest, going to remember it for the small considered patient particular rest of his small considered patient particular life — the small clean considered patient careful private particular slow careful patient unhurried deliberate quiet small specific particular thing of the small considered patient particular long unhurried warm soft slow careful patient small considered patient particular first, in fact, time, of the small considered patient particular long unhurried warm soft slow careful patient small considered patient particular small specific particular every time after.

It took, in the end, by Adrian’s later honest count, two hours and seventeen minutes.

What he was going to remember, in fact, for the small considered patient particular rest of his small considered patient particular life:

He was going to remember the small specific particular thing of his husband, on the small considered patient particular bed, with the small considered patient particular soft warm low setting of the small considered patient particular bedside lamp, with the small considered patient particular soft warm late-August cricket-song coming in through the small considered patient particular open window, with both warm clean palms at the long warm line of his husband’s chest, in fact, very specifically, at twenty-eight years old, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, in fact, said his name.

He was going to remember the small specific particular thing of, in fact, on his back on the small considered patient particular bed, with both warm clean hands fisted in the soft dark hair at the back of his husband’s neck, in fact, very specifically, at fifty-three years old, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, said his husband’s name back.

He was going to remember the small specific particular thing of his husband, with one warm clean palm at the small considered patient particular pale band of skin on his own right hand, with the small considered patient particular slow warm patient unhurried deliberate evenness of his husband’s mouth at the small considered patient particular pale band of skin, very specifically, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, in fact, kiss it.

He was going to remember the small specific particular thing of his husband, in fact, with the small considered patient particular slow warm patient unhurried deliberate evenness of one warm clean hand at the long warm line of Adrian’s bare hip, in fact, very specifically, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, in his ear, in the small considered patient particular soft clean considered patient particular voice of his husband, very quietly, said:

Husband. Husband. Husband. Yes, baby. There. I am, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, in fact, here. I am, on every small considered patient particular night of every small considered patient particular Saturday and Sunday and the small considered patient particular handful of weeks in the small considered patient particular summer when, in fact, we, very specifically, come up, in fact, here. I am, on every small considered patient particular other night of the small considered patient particular rest of our small considered patient particular small considered patient particular life, in our own apartment in Tribeca, with you, in fact, on the small considered patient particular bed of, very specifically, in fact, here.

He was going to remember the small specific particular thing of, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August, with his husband above him, in fact, having him, very specifically, as a husband, with the small considered patient particular slow warm careful patient unhurried deliberate evenness of two hours and seventeen minutes, on the small considered patient particular bed of the small considered patient particular master bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, the small considered patient particular soft warm clean considered patient particular sound that came up out of his husband, in fact, eventually, in fact, in the small considered patient particular long warm slow soft small specific particular interval of the small specific particular finish, in fact, his name.

He was going to remember, finally, in fact, with the small considered patient particular soft warm small specific particular sound of his husband, on his chest, after — in the small considered patient particular slow soft warm late-August cricket-song coming in through the small considered patient particular open window — already half asleep, in fact, said:

“Husband.”

And Adrian, on his back, on the small considered patient particular bed of the small considered patient particular master bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August at one forty-three in the morning, with the small considered patient particular pale band of small considered patient particular skin on his own right hand, with the small considered patient particular soft warm closed velvet box of the small considered patient particular ring his own first husband had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the seventh of June in 2003, on the small considered patient particular grass of the small considered patient particular front lawn of this same small considered patient particular house, given him on the small considered patient particular polished wood of the dresser at the foot of the bed, with the small considered patient particular soft warm weight of his second husband on his chest, said, very quietly, into the long warm dark hair on the back of his husband’s head:

“Husband.”

The lavender, in the long warm late-August dark, on the long stretch of the small considered patient particular soft fieldstone wall at the edge of the small considered patient particular flagstone path that ran from the small considered patient particular long flagstone porch of the house out to the small considered patient particular old maple at the far end of the lawn, in six small considered patient particular terracotta pots planted, on the small considered patient particular morning of the twenty-fifth of August at nine-oh-three by a twenty-eight-year-old former four-hundred-meter sprinter from Cold Spring, New York — who had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August at three forty-six p.m., on the small considered patient particular grass of the small considered patient particular front lawn, in front of twenty-two adult human beings and the small considered patient particular ghost of one cardiologist who had, in fact, on the small considered patient particular morning of the third of February of this year, in the small considered patient particular dim of his husband’s office at his husband’s firm, with one warm hand at his husband’s right hand on which, on the small considered patient particular morning of the third of February of this year, the small considered patient particular ring had, in fact, still been on, said, in his husband’s head, good — in fact, on the small considered patient particular grass, in fact, married a fifty-three-year-old widower named Adrian Cross — was, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August at one forty-three in the morning, in the small considered patient particular soft warm dark, there.

It was, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August at one forty-three in the morning, on the small considered patient particular long stretch of the small considered patient particular soft fieldstone wall, in the small clean considered patient careful private particular ordinary specific way of all of it, alive.

And the small considered patient particular master bedroom of the small considered patient particular house in Hudson, with two adult human beings asleep in it, with the small considered patient particular soft warm closed velvet box of the small considered patient particular ring on the small considered patient particular polished wood of the dresser at the foot of the bed, was, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August at one forty-three in the morning, in fact, full.

It was, on the small considered patient particular night of the twenty-fifth of August at one forty-three in the morning, in the small clean considered patient careful private particular ordinary specific way of all of it, the small considered patient particular bedroom of two adult human beings who had, on the small considered patient particular afternoon of the twenty-fifth of August at three forty-six p.m., very specifically — for the small considered patient particular rest of their small considered patient particular lives — in fact, married each other.

The End.

Thank you for reading. — J.W.

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