56. Epilogue

MATTHEW

V aughn's seventh birthday is the first time the family comes together since Maggie and Stuart got married. At the wedding, Valentine was my date, and Nicole was Fischer's. He and I barely spoke to each other for the entire event, but we made up for that later in the room we rented upstairs for the night just to spite the Upper East Side.

Today, however, with no Marches or Gallos to mollify, and our relationship no secret to anyone in attendance, I have no interest in pretending we're not exactly what we are.

Fischer and I haven't spent a day or night apart since Nicole dropped the custody suit. Most nights are in the Bronx, in the loft I never wound up listing. But when we have Vaughn, we're at the Eastmoor.

Neutralizing Ravenna required an intervention staged by Fischer and Gavin. They helped her understand that spreading rumors about an investigative journalist might not go so well for her if there was even a shred of information in her past she might not want her parents or her precious Manhattan art crowd to know about her.

Gavin's presence guaranteed it was no bluff. I don't worry when I run into her in the lobby anymore, where I use the front door just like any other person.

In public, Fischer and I are nothing more than adopted brothers with a thirteen year age difference. I'm a loving uncle to his son.

In private, he's my slutty princess who'll offer me his ass anytime I look at him a certain way. And, of course, the love of my life who keeps me centered, inspires me to lead with my heart, and rubs my back when I can't sleep.

No one but Nicole and Gavin has ever seen us together as we really are. The closest of friends. The most affectionate of lovers. Doting, probably to an annoying degree, partners in life. We rarely take our eyes off each other for more than a few seconds.

Nicole answers the door of her Tribeca apartment with a tight smile. "Good. You're here. Maybe you'll have better luck convincing Dick and Donna the kids aren't gonna start jumping off the building."

"Dick and Donna?" Fischer asks doubtfully.

"Yeah, good point. It's just her. Come on in!" she says brightly.

It's a large apartment with a big terrace, which means the kids are mostly outside where it looks like snow is coming. I spot my mom immediately, hovering by the window, looking tense. No sign of Maggie or Stuart yet.

I let go of Fischer's hand. We had a deal I'd make first contact.

"I think Vaughn's smart enough to know if he goes over the edge, he'll miss gifts," I say.

My mom startles at my voice and looks up at me. "I just worry. Where's—?" She spots Fischer with Nicole as they head outside. "Oh. It's good to see you. Both," she adds.

I nod. "You, too."

"I trust everything's going well? I haven't heard anything."

"Just the way you like it, right?"

Her mouth presses into a grim line. "I'm not the bad guy, Matthew."

"Jury's still out, mom."

"I miss my grandson."

"Then I'm not the one you need to be making nice with."

My dad is outside keeping an eye on the group of five wild boys. He's got an easy grin on his bespectacled face, which brightens further when he sees Fischer. They shake hands and pat shoulders, Fischer's preferred greeting. Dad then spots me and waves. I wave back.

"How are things going between you two?" Mom asks.

"Great. Never better."

"Have you given any thought to the future?" she asks.

"Meaning what?"

"Marriage. Kids?"

I shake my head. "We can't get married. We have a secret to keep, remember?" Also…it's not legal in New York. The fact of which pisses me off to a maddening degree.

"I suppose, but…"

"What?" I ask.

"Is marriage what you want?"

I look out at Fischer, his cheeks and nose reddening from the chill wind. His hair blowing wildly, smile flashing for his son. "Yes."

There's nothing I want more than to marry him. Give him my name and my vows. My life. Rewrite our legal relationship. But not only can adopted siblings not get married in this state, marriages are public record. As long as he's a public figure—as long as Vaughn could in any way be affected by our private life, a wedding isn't in the cards. It's the one thing I can't have that tortures me.

Fischer's talked about informal vows, doing it on our own, off the books, but I'm not interested in that. It doesn't mean the same thing. It hurts him that it hurts me, but all I can do is remind him that I chose this with him. I wouldn't have my life any other way. What's an artist without something to suffer and starve for?

His unattainability is my muse. And it's why the need to claim him never quiets down.

"I'm sorry I made such a mess of things," my mother quietly confesses.

I turn to look down at her, and she's watching Fischer, too. It's the first time she's apologized that sounds genuine, not simply manipulating us to get a hold of Vaughn for a night. Some of my own chill toward her thaws. Especially when she adds, "He's lucky to have you."

"We're lucky we have each other."

"What's the secret, anyway?" she asks.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"To get him to accept love?"

I smile softly. "Expect nothing, I guess," I say, but I'm not sure that's the whole answer. There's a wall to break through, too. "Or maybe just meet him where he's at."

There's a knock at the door.

"That'll be Maggie and Stu," she says.

I figured.

Maggie and I haven't quite forgiven each other, but we're on speaking terms. I came to her wedding, but I wasn't in it. She apologized to Fischer for her part in keeping him away from me, but she never apologized to me. She still claims she was only trying to protect me. Defensive to the end. I'm struggling with forgiveness because I know she was also—maybe mostly—trying to protect herself and her status with the Marches.

I greet them politely but without hugs. They walk into the living room around the same time the kids come galloping in.

Fischer and I gravitate toward each other, and he reaches for my hand. I do one better and put my arm around his waist, pulling him to my side. He rests his freezing palm on the middle of my back.

Vaughn greets his aunt and uncles, and the call for presents grows raucous.

"Is it inappropriate to have a martini at a child's birthday party?" Fischer asks.

I look at him. "Have whatever you want."

He sighs. "I should help Nicole."

"Let my mom do it," I tell him, tightening my grip.

"Is she behaving?"

"Yes, actually. I see a long, heartfelt email in your future."

"Ugh."

"You behave, too." I press a kiss to his temple, noticing Maggie watching us.

She looks like she has something to say.

Nicole and Mom corral the boys and get them all seated on the floor. I steer Fischer toward the couch where he rests his cane and has a seat. I sit next to him, and to my surprise, Maggie abandons Stuart and takes the spot next to me.

I sling my arm over Fischer's shoulders, and he grips my thigh. "Seven, huh?" Maggie asks enthusiastically. "I wanted to be a career cheerleader when I was seven."

"What did you want to be?" Fischer asks me.

"Superman probably," I say.

"He wanted to be a reporter. So he could meet Superman."

"You what?" Fischer asks, leaning away so he can see me better with his shitty eyesight.

I shrug. "Why would you assume that has anything to do with you?"

"Did you know other reporters when you were seven?"

"To be fair, you were still in college."

"Reporting for the university newspaper."

"Well, I don't know how I would have known that," I say.

"No?" Maggie pipes up. "So you never read the articles Mom and Dad cut out and put on the fridge?"

I sigh. "I feel like it had more to do with Superman."

"You probably thought Fischer was Superman."

I stay quiet. I don't remember a lot about being seven, but that does sound like the kind of thought that would have crossed my mind. It probably would have explained a lot to me about Fischer—if he had a secret identity.

Fischer gives my thigh a squeeze, and I catch him grinning at me. He looks at ease. He looks… happy . Even with the whole family here, he's still smiling at me like I light up his life.

I lift my hand to sift through his hair, and his gaze turns slightly hazy. I glance down at his mouth and get aroused. Unwilling to pop a boner at a kid's birthday party, I turn to the main attraction.

Vaughn opens a Lord of the Rings Lego set, and my eyes widen. "I need that," I say.

"Maybe I'll talk him into keeping it at the Eastmoor."

"I love Legos," I say.

"How do you feel about puzzles?" Fischer asks.

"Not as strongly as I do about that," I tell him, nodding in Vaughn's direction.

Vaughn opens some clothes and a new pair of expensive shoes that all the boys are irrationally excited about. I got him a Panda onesie, because he told me he wanted one, and Fischer got him a Rubik's cube, which I told him was sadistic.

"Watch. He's gonna train himself to solve it in under a minute."

"It's a cheap gift," I say.

"Well, I can't buy him a car."

"You could've gotten him a good set of Legos."

"I got him some clothes, too. Nice ones. And a coat."

"Kids don't wear coats."

He chuckles. "I'll put you in charge next year."

"I'll be honest. I'm better at critiquing gifts than selecting them."

For that, he leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. "Did you really think I was Superman?"

I hold his head in place and kiss his mouth softly now that the boys' eyes are all trained on the next gift. "Aren't you?"

Nicole, from behind the couch, flicks Fischer in the ear, and he flinches. He glances up at her, cheeks darkening. "Sorry."

He doesn't let go of my leg, but he does lean away slightly. I mentally tell my dick to chill. There's still pizza and cake to get through. When Fischer gets up to go the bathroom, however, I stare after him longingly. "Still going strong, I see," Maggie says.

I wince, and she's quick to add. "I don't mean anything shitty by it."

"This forever implication that you think we're not gonna last is getting old, and it hurts more than you think," I tell her, the words coming out right for once.

She looks stung. "I never meant to imply that."

"Then why say something like that? It's not supportive. It's a dig."

"It wasn't, Matty. I promise. I do support you."

"Then why am I hiding? Why am I playing by society rules when I'm not even part of it?"

"Listen." Stuart swoops in, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of me, ambushing me. "If you want to blame someone, you can take this out on me. They're my parents. I know what you mean when you say society, and Maggie's not part of that."

"She is now."

Stuart gives me a look I can't fully decipher. Part protective and part conspiratorial. "Look," he says. "We're pregnant."

Maggie startles. "Stuart!"

He glances at my sister after the bomb drops. "Nothing is more important to my parents than legacy. This is going to be a big deal for them, and I hate to use a kid like this, but I was raised a certain way, and the truth is—it's leverage."

"Matty—please don't' tell. I'm like five minutes pregnant, it's not even completely confirmed yet."

Stuart grabs her knee. "I'm confident. Anyway…" He looks to me again. "No one should have to hide who they love. I can't undo the fact that you're brothers by adoption, but I can guarantee my parents won't make any trouble for either of you. Or for Nicole or Vaughn. Honestly, I can probably get them to bury the whole story with the right incentive."

"Why, all of a sudden?"

"I think about this a lot," he says sincerely. "You're my brother now, too."

I hadn't thought about that. It's sort of mind-blowing now.

"Matty, I want you to have what you want," Maggie says. "Especially if that's Fischer. There. Was that supportive enough?"

"I want to marry him," I say.

Her brows lift and Stuart grins. "You know what we're better at on the Upper East Side than scandals?"

"What?" I ask.

"Keeping them quiet. You pay enough attention, after thirty years, you realize everyone's got some pretty nasty skeletons, and no one's ever the wiser."

Fischer returns to the sofa, taking in the scene. "What are we talking about?"

"Birthdays," I say quickly before turning back to Maggie and Stuart. "And I'll believe that gift when I see it."