44. Hunter

Three Months Later

Playlist: Jump Then Fall (Taylor’s Version) | Taylor Swift

Momma Quinn: picture Hi sweetheart! Poppa Sean and I are ready to go and can’t wait to see what you have in store for tonight.

Momma Quinn: We’re so proud of you both. ??

Hunter: you both look fabulous! we love you and can’t wait to see you. ??

“Is everything ready?” Jo asks anxiously, rearranging the champagne flutes for the sixth time.

I smile at her. “Of course it is. You planned it.”

She attempts and fails to fight back a smile. She turns her head and captures my lips with hers. It’s so sweet, but she and I both know she’s trying to hide that damn smile of hers.

“I love you. I’m so proud of you,” I murmur against her mouth.

These eight words are the chorus of our life: I love you. I’m so proud of you.

We say it to each other multiple times a day, and it has yet to lose any of its power.

“Ready, baby?” I ask, pulling away and fixing her collar. Audrey just enters the room, the same room where a few months ago, Jo realized the meaning behind my favorite song. Audrey’s auburn hair is perfectly curled, and there's a heart-shaped bi flag pin on her lapel.

“Never,” Giovanna answers. “But you’ll hold my hand?”

“Always.”

Tonight, we’re launching Lillian Theresa, LLC, mine and Jo’s event planning and coordination firm. The past three months have been unbelievably hectic as we packed up our lives in Brooklyn and moved into a tiny studio in Port Haven. Sean and Aria are storing most of our shit in their basement, but it still somehow feels like we have everything we need in our cramped space: Giovanna, Dolly Parton, my vinyl and magnet collections, and as many mass market historical romances we could fit on our one bookshelf. Every night, after hours of work, Giovanna insists we take twenty minutes and dance to a record of her choice.

“It’s five o'clock somewhere,” she declares on a daily basis, flipping through the vinyls stacked haphazardly on the floor next to the record player. “And since it’s five o'clock in Port Haven, we are legally required to dance.”

And dance we do. To Fleetwood Mac, Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton, Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, and so many others. It’s my favorite part of the day. Not just because we dance and Giovanna holds me, but because she always sings along. She always smiles. Because it’s her favorite part of the day.

When we told Audrey about our plans for Lillian Theresa, she’d generously offered to let us use an empty office in SandPiper Inn while we launched. We signed a lease on our own office space this week because of all the support our people have given.

The room steadily fills up, music playing in the background. I can tell Giovanna’s taken aback by the sheer amount of people here, but I’m not. For the most part, we’ve been welcomed with open arms to Port Haven. Except for the twenty-eight people who signed a petition saying that allowing a queer oriented and owned business to open in Port Haven would be celebrating grievous sin. The twenty-eight people identified themselves as current or former parishioners of Our Lady of Hope. Including my grandparents.

After I saw the letter, Giovanna held me as I cried into her arms. I’ve come a long way since I went no-contact with my family, but it still felt like a knife to the heart. And I didn’t understand why it still hurt.

“Loss of love isn’t something that just stops hurting,” she told me as I got snot on her favorite jumpsuit. “It’s okay that it still hurts. It’s okay if it always hurts. The presence of pain is not the absence of healing.”

In a way, that’s been both of our journeys—learning to live with pain and hurt, letting it coexist with hope and love. Not letting it hold us back from living.

“It’s so beautiful, Giovanna,” I whisper, taking everything in. It’s a fairytale, a dream come true. At least two-hundred people are here, dressed to the nines, including, of course, Jo’s parents, siblings, and their partners. Izzy and Leo both came home from college to be able to attend, and I was able to meet Alex, Jo’s sister who lives in California, for the first time when she flew in as a surprise. I was talking to her earlier, and I’m not sure if she hates me, because she kept glaring over my shoulder. Nellie and Tyler took the train in, too, and rented a room at the inn. We hired Tyler to cater dessert for the event, which they went above and beyond for, of course.

After she quit Coffey & Co, dozens of vendors who had worked with and loved Jo reached out to Becky for her information. Becky had refused, of course, but Jo’s coworker, Daniel, made it his mission to send her info to them. Photographers, caterers, musicians, and entertainers all reached out hoping to work with her again. She was able to reach a mutual agreement with them that our services would be provided to the entire Tri-State area, as opposed to just Fairfield County as we’d originally planned. Our vendors agreed to the same.

Turns out she was truly the heart and soul of Coffey & Co, the reason for their success and why clients and vendors kept working with them. Now, she’s our heart and soul, and tonight,

it shows.

We’re in talks of expanding even further than we’d ever hoped. It’s unreal how well respected Giovanna is in the industry, but also unsurprising. We’re hoping to open a second office in Manhattan by this time next year, and recently, a third office in Boston has been brought up as well.

It’s beyond my wildest dreams, watching Giovanna shine like the gem she is. She’s the best risk I’ve ever taken.

“Looking good, ladies,” Ren says, sidling next to his sister and poking her in the side. She squawks and jumps away from him as I bend over in laughter. I’m wearing the same pink dress I’d worn the first night we danced in the living room. I thought about wearing something black or more professional…but I couldn’t. I couldn’t imagine wearing anything else tonight.

The photographer we’d hired for the event snaps a few pictures. He’s one of the vendors that followed Jo, and drove up from Jersey for the event so I could have a night off. He’s trans and like many of our other queer attendees, wears a pin proudly declaring his identity. I’m so proud of what we created, a safe space that she and I didn’t have twelve years ago.

“Stop bullying me,” Jo whines. She puts her finger in her mouth and then into Ren’s ear. He yelps and jumps away, sloshing champagne all over his suit as his phone clatters to the floor. She bends over to grab it for him, but he’s faster, swooping down and pocketing it.

I raise a brow at him. “That’s shady.”

“It’s really not. If she was your sister, you wouldn’t want her touching her personal belongings either,” he counters.

Jo scowls at him. “What’s that supposed to mean, Lorenzo?”

He doesn’t answer, instead patting the top of his sister’s head. She bats at him and pulls away, grumbling something about him fucking up her hair. “Don’t worry about it. I’m proud of you.”

She rolls her eyes, but her mouth tips up at the corners. “Thanks. Go be annoying somewhere else, please.”

“You got it, boss.” Ren salutes her before pulling out his phone and typing. “I’ll see you guys later.” He pockets his phone again and winks before walking away.

I wait until he’s out of earshot before turning to Jo. “You know he’s sexting someone, right? Ooh, bacon wrapped dates!” I happily snag an hors d’oeuvre from a passing server, thanking them before I bite into it.

My girlfriend sputters in disbelief. “Why the hell would I know if my brother is sexting someone?”

“It’s obvious!” I say, mouth full of food. “He was so protective about his phone. He’s sexting someone.”

Jo gags.

“Hey!” Nic and Josh appear next to us. Nic wearing a skin tight black bandage dress with a bi pride pin and fishnet stockings. Josh stands behind her, a progress pride flag on his suit jacket, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s ogling her ass. I clear my throat and he meets my eyes, smiling bashfully. I wave him over.

“Are there chicken tenders?” I overhear Nic asking Jo.

Jo points to a server across the room. “Yup. Mini pizzas will be coming out next, too. I made sure you had some of your safe foods as options.”

“Ren’s sexting someone,” I tell Josh.

His eyes widen. “No shit? Our Ren? Spill.”

I tell him my theory, and he nods along thoughtfully. “And that’s how I know Ren’s sexting someone,” I conclude.

“Oh, for sure,” he agrees, taking a sip of his mocktail.

“Augh!” Giovanna exclaims, and we both turn to her. Nic must have gone off in search of chicken tenders, because Jo’s alone and glaring at us, her hands planted on her hips.

It’s hot as hell.

Brandon, Josh’s friend from high school and our accountant, pops in before she can say anything, shaking Josh’s hand.

“The event is fantastic,” he says, turning to me. This is the first time we’re meeting Brandon in person. He lives in Jersey and we’ve been meeting with him virtually for the past few months. He’s about an inch taller than Josh, who’s already a foot taller than me, and has graying temples and scruff. He’s also a former football player, a big, broad guy. “I’m so sorry to do this, but I have to head out early.”

He waves at us as he makes his way to the exit, and Jo tries to speak again.

“Could we—”

“Shut up, Josephine,” Josh says, pointing towards the entrance. “Hunter, you see that?”

I look to where he’s pointing and gasp. “Oh my god. Is that…”

“Yep.”

“Leaving almost exactly two minutes after…”

“Yep.”

We exchange a knowing look. I grab a champagne flute from a passing server and we keep eye contact as we sip from our respective drinks.

“Um, hello?” Jo waves her hand in front of our faces. “Anyone care to fill me in?”

“Right.” I’m glad Josh answers first, because that makes it easier for me. “Your brother is fucking the lady who owns the inn.”

“Audrey,” I supply helpfully.

“Audrey?” Jo laughs. “No the hell he’s not.”

Josh and I exchange another knowing look.

“Oh my god, stop doing that,” she complains. “You two aren’t allowed to be friends anymore.”

“I mean, it makes sense. He’s Piper’s piano teacher so he’s here a lot, and more importantly, she left the room exactly two minutes after he did,” I say.

“So?”

“ So it’s the perfect amount of time to not raise suspicion when having a bathroom quickie.”

Josh nods in agreement.

“What are we talking about?” Nic asks, rejoining us with a plate piled high with mini pizzas and chicken tenders.

“Ren is fucking Audrey,” I tell her.

Nic gags violently. “That’s disgusting, Hunter. He’s your brother, too.”

This family is wild, and I love being a part of it.

“I hate to break it to you, Buttercup, but your mom re-entered the room two minutes after your dad.” Josh at least has the decency to look like he truly regrets having to be the one to tell her this.

Nic responds by lobbing a mini pizza at his head.

We mingle for a little longer, trying to make conversation with Leo and Kat, who are huddled in a corner. Kat and Steve were listed on the petition as well, which Jo just rolled her eyes at. Kat surprised us by showing up alone tonight, hugging us both and telling us how proud of us she is. Stella wasn’t able to make it either, and I realize I’ve never been around Leo without her. He’s checking his phone repeatedly.

“It’s perfect, Joey,” Sean, as he insisted I call him, tells Giovanna as he hugs her. I try to forget what Josh said and how much I know about Sean and his wife’s sex life.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“And you.” He points at me with his Guinness bottle. “You get in here, I know you worked hard, too.”

I smile and hug him. Sean and I have talked since that night in the lighthouse. He likes me now, texting me whenever he sees an article mentioning Dolly Parton.

I’ve forgiven him. Forgiveness didn’t feel like a conscious choice, rather a steady build. While I’ll never have my dad back, Sean made a comment at Sunday dinner a few weeks ago that he had ten kids. When we stared at him in confusion, he looked at us like we were missing something obvious. “Hunter and Josh?” he’d said. I didn’t know someone would want to refer to me as their child again.

Towards the end of the night, I clink my champagne flute with a butter knife as I climb onto the stage. “Twelve years ago, I fell in love in Port Haven. With the town, and with a girl I didn’t realize at fifteen would become my future. It means the world that I’m back, creating something beautiful with the person I fell in love with.”

I wink at Giovanna, and she blushes. “It means everything to us that you’re here,” I continue, “and we look forward to working with the queer community in Port Haven and beyond. Giovanna and I didn’t have that twelve years ago, and I know I speak for us both when I say that while we can’t rewrite history, we can make a better world. Thank you for welcoming us back, and embracing Lillian Theresa. Please join me in a toast to new beginnings!”

I think there’s applause after I finish, but I’m too busy hopping off the stage and throwing myself into Giovanna’s arms to take it in.

“Did you notice,” I whisper in her ear, “that thirteen minutes after Audrey left, Ren re-entered the room? And then exactly two minutes later…”

“Can we not? I want to dance with my pretty girlfriend, not think about my brother having a bathroom quickie.”

“Well,” I say, grinning up at her as I let her lead me onto the dance floor. “It is five-o-clock somewhere.”

She rolls her eyes, still smiling. Then she dips me, kissing me square on the mouth and this time, I’m enveloped in the cheers erupting around us.

I wish I had a time machine so I can go back and tell fifteen year old Jo and Hunter that it’s worth the wait. That everything turns out okay, better than okay. That one day we don’t hide and people cheer for and celebrate the way we love, our love, because that never felt possible.

“Let’s get out of here,” I tell her as she pulls me back to a standing position.

“Great. I’ll follow in two minutes…”

I laugh and thwack her shoulder. “Not for a bathroom quickie.”

“Well, what else is this event for, considering Josh just left three minutes after Nic?” Giovanna scoffs and shakes her head. “He thought he could throw us off.”

“You’ve learned quickly, young padawan,” I say proudly. “But no, we’re leaving together.”

We exit the building, and I pull her along the beach until we get to the lighthouse.

“You’re such a romantic,” she teases me as I pull a bobby pin from my hair and pick the lock, and then I pull her into the lighthouse. It’s dark, and moonlight is the only thing illuminating the room.

“We’re going to live here one day,” I say definitively as Jo wraps her arms around my waist and rests her chin on my shoulder.

“Where?”

“Here.”

“The lighthouse ?” she asks incredulously.

“Mmhmm. Think about it: you, me, Dolly, maybe some scaleless siblings for her. It’s gonna happen.”

She laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”

Maybe I am ridiculous. I am, after all, a dreamer. Always have been. How could I not be? The woman I’ve spent most of my life dreaming of loving is holding me as we celebrate the start of our new business. I have a family who loves and accepts me, without me having to pretend to be someone I’m not.

I turn to her and take her hands in mine. “I think I’ve earned the right to dream ridiculous dreams.”

She cups my face and brushes my nose with hers. “Yeah. I do too. If you want the lighthouse, honey, I’ll buy you the lighthouse one day.”

I kiss her in the moonlight, the sound of the waves crashing faintly in the background. I kiss her the same way I kissed her over twelve years ago, with all my love and hope.

This time, I’m kissing her knowing that she’s my tomorrow. My next year and years to follow. Knowing that the future is a risk, and knowing that we’re worth it.

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