Never Too Late To Believe - 28. A Time to Celebrate

In their bedroom, Andy carefully extricated a waistcoat out from its layers of tissue paper. He'd come back up from breakfast to find the royal blue gift box waiting on rumpled sheets. Holding the garment up, he inspected silk brocade in a range of vibrant jewel colours that had drawn him to the waistcoat in the first place. That cycling holiday in York felt a lifetime away. The waistcoat was gorgeous – a perfect complement to the suit hanging from one of the wardrobe doors. Already, emerald threads in otherwise deeply shadowed green fabric glowed in response.

Andy swallowed hard, past a lump that had suddenly developed. A beautiful present from his husband-to-be to go with such special clothes.

The breakfast he'd forced down sat uneasily in his stomach. Bacon salt leached moisture from an already dry mouth. He put the waistcoat down and contemplated getting dressed in his finery. It would represent a step into the unknown. Much desired and hoped for, but unknown nevertheless. A shiver ran through him.

“Still like it?”

The question made Andy start. He turned. Adam stood in the doorway, like he so often did, a casual pose that somehow emphasised that cool, toned elegance Andy loved and admired. The fact they were both still dressed for bed didn't signify. “The waistcoat? God, yes. It's… perfection. Does that sound pretentious?”

A smirk appeared opposite. “A little. Who gives a fuck – it's our wedding day.”

“You remembered!” Andy felt his face unfreeze into a wide grin. “Wasn't sure you would.”

The grin didn't falter in the face of Adam striding towards him, a growl deep in his throat. “Of course, I fucking remembered. Who left that box for you to find?”

Andy found himself being captured by strong arms, held, and kissed hard. And again. He retaliated by taking hold of the arse he loved so much and squeezed it through thin sleep shorts. Adam grunted, pushing their straining bodies closer together. The pressure made Andy overbalance, bare feet slipping on polished wood. He fell backwards onto the bed, pulling the other man on top of him.

Bursts of giggles mixed with growls and grunts as their mock wrestling developed. Kisses were claimed – the spoils of fleeting victory – lips landing on any available spot. Sometimes the salutes were gentle; others were given with added teeth and tongue.

Andy eventually rolled on top, pinioning Adam's arms with his own. He gazed down at fair skin, flushed pink from face to chest. Tousled hair, irises more black in appearance than their usual deep blue, and that smile, the one hot enough to grill steak which only he got to see, went straight to his cock. How he loved everything about the man he was about to marry – both good and less desirable. Adam's assertiveness, his occasional arrogances, and of course, over-abundance of money were integral to him, but more than counterbalanced by friendship, steadfastness…

“What you looking at?”

Adam's question pulled Andy out of himself. He leaned down for another kiss. “You, tiger. You getting me thinking about that unbelievably sexy view I crave when we're out cycling and you're in front.”

“Oh, yeah?” A heat-filled smirk emerged.

“You better believe it. The Malverns are my favourite – all those uphill slogs.”

“And there's me believing I'm about to marry a slacker.”

“Nope.” Another kiss. “A perv.”

They relaxed. The two men remained intertwined, voices ebbing and flowing, until Andy reached out a hand and spotted the time on his phone. With a curse, he launched off the bed, closely followed by Adam.

They couldn't both be late to their wedding.

That afternoon, Eric stood at the bottom of his garden and chewed at a fingernail. Where was Rob? For the umpteenth time, he squinted down the road, hoping any hint of a vehicle would turn out to be Rob's estate car. He debated going back inside. The last time, he'd stood at the window, giving himself a crick in the neck. Loitering in his garden, an idiot in all his finery, was tiring. It would only be a matter of time before his next-door neighbour came down to investigate. He'd spotted her staring at him from her front window. And she waved. He'd ignored that.

After he'd turned to trudge back up the path, the sound of a car horn nearly made him stumble. He swung round to see Rob peering up through the car's windscreen.

Eric hurried to open the passenger door. “Where've you been? The reception starts in an hour.” Only the lads' immediate family had been invited to the actual wedding. He took a breath before the rest of his questions could escape.

Rob shrugged. “Sorry. An accident blocked the main road. Had to wait for the emergency services to clear everything. I sent a couple of texts.” He frowned. “You got those – yeah?”

Eric concentrated on getting settled, fussing with his jacket and smoothing the new tie before drawing the seatbelt over his chest.

“Eric?”

He looked up to see Rob's head cocked, one eyebrow raised.

“You got my texts?”

Eric searched for something to say. He gulped. “Ehm.”

“Jesus.” The other man let out a sigh. Part amusement, part exasperation, Eric thought. “Wait 'til I tell Andy. Eric, you buy a mobile phone so other people can communicate with you. Like, when you're waiting for a lift and the other guy knows they're going to be late. Yeah?”

Shifting in his seat, Eric nodded.

“So?”

“It's on the desk,” he muttered, feeling foolish and inexplicably warm.

“Keys.” Rob held out a hand.

“But–”

“Yes, we're a little behind. Who cares? You need your phone.”

Eric dug in a trouser pocket and produced his house keys. The car rocked slightly as Rob left. Eric sat and watched the younger man jog up the path. The same black, suede bomber jacket from the housewarming was teamed with another floral shirt. This time, Rob's tight-fitting trousers were a startling shade of purple, maybe highlighting one colour from the shirt. They were both wearing unusual colours. Eric ran one finger down the lemon yellow tie. Getting the damn knot right had taken forever, but even he could admit the tie added something to the rest of what he wore.

He'd looked at himself in the mirror and felt smart. Presentable. A friend going to a wedding reception knowing he was looking the best he could.

Rob jerked the driver's side door open and tossed the phone into Eric's lap. “Maybe turn it on?”

The warmth returned.

With swift, economical movements, Rob started the car, did a three point turn, and set out back the way he came.

Fumbling a little, Eric watched the gadget go through its opening routine. Once operational, it greeted him with a barrage of pings and bleeps and he-didn't-know-whats.

Rob snorted. “Fuck. That's way more than my couple of texts. You're suddenly popular.” A smiling, sideways glance took away any awkwardness.

“I have no idea what any this nonsense means.” He glared at the screen.

They stopped at a red light in the centre of town. Rob leaned over. “Just texts and email. The rest look like app notifications. Ignore those for now. You're not on any social media, are you?”

Eric didn't bother to reply. The idea he might ever get sucked into that morass was utterly ridiculous. He tapped the texts, finding both Rob's and some wretched advertising rubbish from his phone company. Not sure how to remove the messages he didn't want, he left them and turned to the emails. “There's one from Andy.”

“Oh, yeah?”

They were driving out of town now, heading north and east towards Worcestershire.

Skipping over the text – it was too small to read without his glasses – he tapped on a tiny square at the end. After a moment, the screen burst into colour and movement. Eric peered closely. Scrabbling with one hand inside his jacket, he produced his cheap, non-prescription reading glasses and put them on. The image steadied into a large, light-filled room with an ornate plaster ceiling and cool, restrained Georgian decoration. Croome, he guessed. One of the main function rooms.

The camera, or phone, or whatever moved closer. In the background, two huge displays of multi-hued dahlias, late blooming roses, decorative ivy and other evergreens filled a pair of wall niches that had previously held urns or statues. Eric spared those only a fleeting glance.

He focused on the people and gasped. There, before a handful of witnesses, he saw his two friends standing together with their backs to the camera. A woman about his own age faced them. God, they looked so smart. So right. So perfect that something took hold of his heart and squeezed.

“Eric, you OK?”

He barely registered Rob's question. Through tear-filled eyes, he watched the ceremony unfold. No sound. Not a peep. He had no idea what to do or poke to get sound. Silence didn't matter. It could wait. Whatever he touched would break the spell or even make the video vanish.

“Eric?”

Wordlessly, he held the phone up.

Rob turned briefly. “Oh, wow. They must've live-streamed the ceremony.”

When Eric refocused, his friends were facing each other. Even on the minute screen, their faces, their whole beings, radiated joy as they took turns to speak. The vows, he guessed. His hand shook slightly. Sadness, regret, some species of anger all washed over him, but the old force, the old bitterness weren't there. Instead, happiness and pride diluted the brew. Pride that he knew and loved Andy – in his own crabbed way – and happiness in their joy. Eric blinked. How could someone else's life choices make him so ridiculously happy?

The kiss drew his gaze back. It wasn't the perfunctory, loveless peck his parents occasionally exchanged. The camera zoomed in to show his two friends in an embrace, kissing freely, until eventually they pulled away. He stared, another wave of mixed emotions flowing around him until he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. A strangled sob escaped.

Rob took his eyes off the road briefly before placing a hand on Eric's leg and patting it. “Whatever you're feeling is real. It's fine. Get it out of your system now. When we get to the reception, I'm going to show you the time of your life.”

Eric snorted. The statement was utterly bizarre. “Me?”

A grin appeared on the other man's face. “Yeah.”

“I'm hardly going to be out on the dancefloor, practising my… moves, or however you describe it.”

“That's what I mean.” Rob slowed at a junction. A green National Trust sign pointing left showed they weren't far from Croome. “Last time, I largely suited myself. Now's the time for my redemption. Kinda.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “Really?” But he smiled nevertheless.

At Croome, Eric nervously adjusted first his jacket, then the tie, then the jacket again as he approached the magnificent main building and the large, temporary pavilion that sat outside. People milled around outside the pavilion, plates and glasses in hand. In search of a table, Eric thought, or maybe just greeting other guests. As he got closer, the aroma of spices, tomatoes, cooked meat, and other heady smells he couldn't identify, made his stomach rumble.

Beside him, Rob chuckled. “Yeah, I'm starving too. Smells like Indian. Good quality stuff.” He licked his lips. “This'll be the second party you've taken me to with great food.”

Once inside, Eric relied on his companion's knowledge to guide him through the multitude of choices. Almost none of it looked familiar. By the time they sat down in a corner of the tent, close to the entrance, his plate was full of delicate pastry parcels and mysterious balls, sauces, and small mounds of steaming curry. A huge flatbread which seemed mostly to consist of air accompanied the rest. Rob had some of the same. Most of his plate though was taken up by a single large curry and rice.

They ate, Eric conscious of his lemon yellow tie and white shirt. Despite that, his gaze wandered. All these people were the lads' friends? He spotted a bearded man sporting a long, embroidered tunic and trousers. The tunic was a bright, clear turquoise. Eric pointed him out to Rob.

He whistled quietly. “That's knock-out gorgeous. I think it's called a sherwani. Hang on. Zaf'll kill me if I don't send him a picture.” Getting out his phone, Rob took a couple of shots, then he tapped away on the screen.

Eric's tastebuds were doing overtime. He'd never eaten such food before. Textures, tastes, and ingredients were all strange and mostly delicious, though he wondered how his stomach would cope. Maybe he should reconsider Indian food. Memories of that pre-packaged abomination Andy had brought with him conjured up a smile. Not that he'd be able to reproduce any of what he was eating.

Clapping started up a short distance away. They both looked out through the pavilion's wide entrance. Eric held his breath. Stopping to greet and chat with every guest were his two lads. Andy had warned him there'd be no formal speeches or embarrassing jokes. Both men smiled and laughed, and touched each other in that instinctive, natural way Eric's parents had never done. Adam looked effortlessly elegant in mid-grey with bright blotches of blue and green. A waistcoat and other accessories, he guessed. Eric squinted, trying to make the image come together better.

Rob touched his arm. “You know they're going to stop at this table as well?”

Of course, they were. Eric sat back in his seat.

“Don't blame you for staring though. They both look like GQ models.” Rob held his phone up, taking pictures. “Come on. Don't you want a photo or two?”

Eric ignored him. Andy's waistcoat – he'd removed the suit jacket – glowed in autumn sunshine. First, reds, then greens and blues caught the golden light. The man he was so used to seeing in jeans and a tee was transformed.

He tried to concentrate on eating and joining in Rob's speculations about their fellow guests. Try as he might, Eric's eyes were drawn to the couple, trying to gauge how long it would be before his own time in the spotlight. As for photos, Andy had promised him a full set of whatever they got. Who'd want their memories of this day to be captured in a series of blurred disasters, even if he worked out how to operate his damned phone as a camera?

A general cry of 'Cake!' started up. Rob joined in, banging their metal table for added emphasis. Laughing, the newly-weds broke off their tour long enough to admire two multi-tiered cakes which were brought out by the catering staff. One white, one a pale green, their true splendour was revealed when the first slices were made. Rainbows. One fresh minted, the other, its ghostly reflection. Eric frowned. Where had that piece of nonsense come from?

The frown remained. “Will we get a slice?”

Rob chuckled. “There's probably enough there to feed all the guests twice over. Which do you fancy?”

The pale green cake looked odd, Eric decided. Green wasn't the right colour for something sweet. “I'll have the white one.”

“Yeah? I'm trying to decide what's in the other. Somehow, it suggests more savoury flavours.”

While Rob fiddled with his phone again, Eric went back to people watching. There were definitely more men than women. Several same-sex couples were evident. The ones he saw appeared relaxed. Not on their guard, they held hands and acted like any other straight couple. One individual sauntered past, carrying a slice of cake on a small plate. Eric's eyes widened. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, and flat chest suggested a man. That didn't fit with the flowery formal dress and women's shoes. The person swivelled slightly to greet a friend and Eric saw a plunging neckline. Jewellery framed by a covering of dark brown chest hair completed his confusion.

Rob touched his arm. “I'm feeling neglected.”

Eric didn't turn immediately. There was nothing drag queen about the person – no exaggeration or pretence – just a melding of genders that threatened to put his brain into a complete spin.

“Eric?” There was a slight warning tone to the single word.

Finally, he turned back, his head a feverish swirl. “Sorry, I–” He hesitated.

“Don't know what to think?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Rob nodded, then leaned behind him to capture two slices of cake from a passing tray. He handed one over. “I find it difficult to get my head round really fem guys or those who are non-binary. Doesn't matter though. Live and let live – that's all you have to do.”

Eric blinked. It sounded so simple. Why had he never thought of it before? Well, now he knew.

Andy's feet hurt.

Felicity, radiant in a soft pink dress and matching coat, gave his back a pat. “Nearly there. Then you'll both be let off the leash.”

He nodded. “It's more having to remember what's necessary for each single guest. My brain hurts.” He stared up at the deepening blue of the sky and took a deep breath.

“All too soon, it'll be over. A memory.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “See you before you both leave?”

“Of course. Don't forget the cake.”

With a wave of the hand, Felicity sauntered off towards the main building.

Andy didn't know long his voice would last and he was hungry. Ravenous, in fact. Even with their restrained number of guests, it'd taken forever to greet everyone and make the necessary amount of conversation before passing on. But he consoled himself they'd left the best until last. Ducking into the pavilion again, Adam by his side, he headed straight for a small table just inside the entrance.

“Eric!” The grin threatened to split his face. “You look amazing.” Andy opened his arms.

For several seconds, it looked as though the older man wouldn't move. With a shrug, he rose. Eric moved closer, radiating self-consciousness. Andy held him at arms-length, marvelling at the tie a moment longer, before drawing him into a hug. For once, Eric didn't hold back. Andy risked a couple of soft kisses on the top of his head. Swiftly dispensed and without fuss, he knew they wouldn't cause a stir.

Dimly, he became aware of his husband saying something to Rob Bairstow. The two men laughed.

Rob moved sideways to catch Andy's attention. He brandished his phone and raised an eyebrow. Andy hesitated. He broke the embrace, drew Eric to his side, then nodded. A momentary scowl darkened Eric's face.

Rob rolled his eyes. “Way to spoil my mementoes. Yours as well, if you'd like them.”

Eric glowered back at him. Andy covered up a smirk and exchanged glances with Adam. After a short staring match with Rob, Eric let out an aggrieved sigh and allowed himself to be positioned. Photos were taken. Andy had no trouble producing a smile. Neither did Adam. By the time, they both joined Eric, the older man had relaxed.

“Thanks, Rob. Would you share them with us as well as Eric? We might want to print them out.”

Eric gave Andy a gentle shove. “Why on Earth would you want a picture of me?”

“Because you're our dear friend, and I for one, want a record of how rakish you look.”

Adam spluttered.

Eric blinked. “What?”

“It's a compliment.” Andy noticed Rob was pressing his lips tight. “Kind of. Anyway. Thank you both for coming. We appreciate it very much.” Andy spared a moment to look around. The other guests were minding their own business.

Rob nodded his thanks. “Your table's nearly done. The seat will take a little longer.”

“We look forward to seeing them in their completed glory.”

Adam turned to Eric. “Thank you for the present. You'll see them just as soon as we've taken delivery.”

“Absolutely, Eric,” Andy followed on. “One of our famous film nights, maybe?”

“And you expect me to sit outside in November?”

Laughter all round was cut short by a blast of music coming from the main building.

“Dancing!” Andy and Rob exclaimed at the same time.

“Oh, wow,” Andy continued. “I've been looking forward to this all day.” He spotted Adam exchanging a WTF glance with Rob. “You know what I mean.” Andy mock glared at his husband. “Jeez – you gonna be this judgemental all the time?”

Adam smirked back. “I merely thought something else would've been top of the list.”

Andy looked straight at him, fighting back a smile, then turned to Eric. “Come and watch us. Please. It's too soon for you to be going home. There are plenty of seats.”

“I'll be deafened in ten minutes flat.”

Rob leaned over. “No, you won't. We'll find you a spot at the other end of the room. You'll be fine.”

Eric took in all of them with a single glare. “If I'm as deaf as a post in the morning, I'll know who to blame.”

Andy gave him another quick kiss before he and his husband left to take prime position on the dancefloor.

Eric sat with his back to the wall and surveyed the scene. With the exception of a few other oldies, pretty much everyone was out on the dancefloor. It was hardly dancing as any sensible soul would know it. They were enjoying themselves and he supposed, that was what mattered.

He thought back to the previous autumn. Fear, loneliness, desperately counting the pennies, had hardly made for a life. Not a real life. A life that should be lived out in the open, with friends. After so many changes, he felt like a new Eric Whitehouse. He was a new man living a new life.

“Eric!” From close by, Andy waved one arm and blew a kiss in his direction before dancing away with his new husband.

Eric smiled back, heart full.

It was never too late to change a life.

To change a life like his had been.