27
The rehearsal dinner went off without a hitch, and Etienne lost track of all the people he was introduced to. Great-aunt Henrietta, stooped and wrinkled, didn’t actually pinch his ass, but did make a loud comment about how the quality of hockey players just kept improving, making Adam grin at Etienne, who couldn’t help smiling back.
Etienne was an usher, with little to do except stand where they told him, but Adam was walking Noemi down the aisle, because, as she’d said, “the concept of Dad giving me away is archaic and misogynistic and I’m not his property, and besides, I want it to be you, you’ve always been by my side.”
Etienne pretended not to notice as Adam surreptitiously wiped his eyes and hugged Noemi fiercely.
Still, for all the bustle and planning and places to be, Etienne couldn’t help the feeling of—not dread, he thought, watching as Noemi discussed flower arrangements with the florist and Adam stole bites from the finger food tray he was helping prepare—but almost as though he was balancing on a precipice. Something was going on with Adam, but Adam just as clearly didn’t want to talk about it with his sister’s wedding less than a day away.
So Etienne waited, helped where he could, stayed out of the way when he couldn’t help, and watched Adam with his family. What had he meant by “It’s you” the night before? Etienne hadn’t found a moment to ask him yet, with everything going on.
He wanted, suddenly, to go back to Toronto, back to his life, with his team and his friends and Adam, getting ready for the playoffs and working out together. Adam’s parents had a gym in the basement but it wasn’t the same. Etienne wanted to get Adam alone, find out what was wrong, and not have to worry about prying eyes.
Adam tossed a mini carrot to him and Etienne caught it reflexively. Adam winked and left the kitchen. A minute later, Etienne’s phone buzzed.
Get up here.
Etienne cleared his throat and stood. No one seemed to notice as he sidled past people and out into the hall. He took the stairs two at a time up to the turret room, where Adam was sitting on the bed.
Adam held out his arms and Etienne went gladly into them, climbing onto the mattress and pulling Adam into his embrace.
“You looked a little overwhelmed,” Adam murmured.
Etienne kissed the nape of his neck. “Sorry.”
“I was a little overwhelmed,” Adam admitted. “I love my sister, but Jesus. Too many people.”
“What did you mean, last night?” Etienne blurted.
“When?”
“After we had sex,” Etienne said, poking him in the ribs so Adam squirmed against him. “You said, ‘it’s you’, right before you fell asleep.”
“I did?”
Etienne rolled his eyes.
Adam appeared to be thinking. “I don’t remember saying that,” he finally admitted, and Etienne muffled a laugh against his shoulder blade.
“Idiot,” he said fondly.
“But it is,” Adam said suddenly, twisting so they were face to face. His eyes were serious. “It’s you, Tens. It’s been you since that night in the bar, there’s never going to be anyone else.”
Etienne’s mouth went dry. “Adam—”
“I love you,” Adam interrupted. “It’s okay if you can’t say it back, I know how you protect your heart. This isn’t me assuming or steamrolling you, I swear. I just—I need you to know, okay?”
Etienne squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed. “Say it again,” he whispered.
“I love you,” Adam repeated, his voice steady.
Etienne opened his eyes, searching Adam’s face. “You really do, don’t you?”
Adam nodded. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” he said, running a hand over Etienne’s ribs. “I can wait. I just want you to know I’m serious. About this—us. You.”
“God.” Etienne crowded forward and caught Adam’s mouth in a fierce kiss. Adam opened sweetly for him, fingers tightening on Etienne’s waist. When they broke apart, Etienne pressed their foreheads together. “I love you too,” he whispered.
Adam’s smile was devastating. “You and me,” he murmured. “Aren’t we lucky?”
28
The morning of the wedding was cool and clear, not a cloud in the sky. There were hordes of people in the house, and Etienne smiled and nodded to everyone and didn’t stick around to make conversation. He helped Adam with his suit and fixed his tie before going downstairs and joining William, who was busy making last-minute touches to the decorations for the reception. Noemi and Colette were upstairs, getting Noemi into her dress.
“Ready for this, Dad?” Adam asked.
“Not really,” William admitted. “Eli’s a good kid, but—”
“I know,” Adam said, bumping his shoulder. “Where is he?”
“In the den, quietly freaking out.”
“I’ll go talk to him,” Etienne volunteered. Adam gave him a grateful glance.
Eli was pacing in front of the fireplace when Etienne slipped inside. He whirled, tense, but relaxed when he saw who it was.
“I know you don’t really know me,” Etienne said, closing the door behind him, “but is there anything I can do to help? Can I get you some coffee? Have you eaten breakfast?”
Eli laughed, sharp and nervous. “I think I’d throw it back up again.”
Etienne studied him. Eli was in shirt-sleeves, his skin damp like he was sweating, hair rumpled and falling out of place over his brow.
“Are you okay?”
Eli shook his head, turning away. “I’m fine.”
Etienne said nothing.
“I love Noemi,” Eli said, spinning back to face him.
“Okay,” Etienne said.
“I love Noemi,” Eli repeated. The words sounded desperate.
“She loves you too,” Etienne said carefully.
Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say. Eli’s face shuttered and he turned back to the fireplace.
Etienne hesitated. “Do you need to talk? Don’t you have any family here for your special day?” Anyone’s got to be better than a near-stranger on one of the most important days of your life.
Eli shook his head. “My family’s… not in the area.” His mouth worked but he didn’t say more.
“Friends? Who’s your best man?”
“Daved. He’s on his way, but he’s stuck in traffic.”
“Okay,” Etienne repeated. “You’re a really good goalie, you know.” When in doubt, talk hockey.
Eli glanced at him, eyebrows going up. “You and Adam scored six times on me in twenty minutes, I can’t be that good.”
“Well yeah, but that’s just… that’s me and Adam. We work really well together. I can tell you’re good. How often does your own team score on you?”
Eli’s face didn’t move, but the shadows lying on it seemed to ease, somehow. “Not very often.”
“There you go.” Etienne sat down on the sofa, and after a minute, Eli joined him.
They sat quietly for a minute. Eli’s feet were together, hands on his knees.