“Soon,” Caleb said. Why didn't he just ask? He didn't know. The problem was that all the ways he kept planning started with, this whole album is about you, and even though Caleb was madly in love—still, always, forever—it didn't feel like a very productive start to a conversation about producing an album.
“So you don't really have a clue what Benji and Diego want?” Leo said, changing the subject. “No theories, even?”
Caleb had one theory; it was just crazy enough that they might've done it. “Do you think they're eloping?” he asked.
“What,” Leo screeched.
“I mean . . . it's not the most outlandish theory,” Caleb defended.
“Like they would ever dare to get married before us,” Leo said, his eyes suddenly growing huge, like he hadn't realized he'd actually said that out loud.
Caleb laughed and gripped Leo's hand tightly. “Do you really want to elope?” he asked. He'd tried for a casual tone, but there was nothing casual about asking the love of your life how he felt about getting married.
But Leo only shrugged. “I never worried about it, not ever, but if they beat us down the aisle? I'll be happy for them, I guess, but . . .”
But if you'd had your shit together, if you hadn't been an alcoholic, and then after you came back, still irrevocably fucked up, we'd have been married ages ago.
Caleb knew that wasn't what Leo meant—knew that he'd never ever say it, and he probably wouldn't ever think it either—but it was still hard to push it down, to tell himself that it wasn't true. They just weren't ready yet. Benji and Diego had experienced their own set of difficulties in getting a relationship off the ground. It wasn't like the last ten years had been easy for them either, and if they were really, truly getting married this weekend, Caleb would be first in line to congratulate them. He hoped Leo would be right next to him, and he shouldn't have ever doubted, but that ugly voice inside of him was just one thing he was working on in therapy.
“You can't put your feelings of inadequacy on other people,” Moira, his therapist, liked to say. “We're going to own your feelings, and then we're going to disprove them. But we can't do that until you acknowledge that it isn't Leo that worries about you relapsing or Leo that has nightmares about you leaving again, but you. You're your own roadblock to happiness. The sooner you see that, the sooner you can tear it down.” He'd only been to her a handful of times, but already, Caleb was beginning to see how he'd created so many of his own problems. Leo never worried if Caleb was worth loving; he just loved him, and that was it. He'd exorcised his own demons along with his own distrust, and now it was time for Caleb to tackle his.
“You thought it would be us,” Caleb said.
It was hard not to feel like it was his fault, because categorically, it was.
“Yes, and no,” Leo said. “I don't worry about it, because I know we're in this for the long haul. I know you're not going anywhere, and neither am I. If it takes a few more years to make it official in the eyes of God or the state or whatever, it's really not a big deal, because I already know you're it for me.” Letting go of his hand, Leo leaned back on the couch and propped his legs up onto Caleb's, looking delighted and very, very sure.
“You mean that,” Caleb said, unsteadily. He knew it, he'd thought it more times than he could count, but it meant something to hear Leo say it out loud, to volunteer it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Maybe it was, and Caleb was just lagging behind.
“Of course I mean it,” Leo said.
“So you won't be pissed if Benji calls us in an hour and tells us he and Diego are getting married?”
Leo made a face. “Not because they're getting married and we aren't . . . more like . . . they're going to usurp our title as band's cutest couple, and you know how much I'm going to hate that.”
“I don't think that's possible. There's not even a question,” Caleb said serenely. He felt more at peace than he had in years. If he'd told himself it would be because Benji and Diego were possibly eloping, he'd never have believed it.
“Even if they're married?” Leo asked dubiously.
“Like marriage could ever trump true love,” Caleb said, reaching out and squeezing Leo's knee. “As far as I'm concerned, it's a permanent, non-transferable title.”
“I like it,” Leo told Caleb decisively.
“I thought you might.” Caleb chuckled.
They sat there together in silence for a minute, and then Leo's phone rang, the sound cutting through the peaceful quiet.
“It's Benji,” Leo announced, and then answered it.
“Uh-huh,” Leo said, nodding along with whatever Benji was saying. “Yeah, okay. We can do that.” He shot Caleb a triumphant look. “Look, we're happy for you and everything, and we'll be there, but you're not stealing our title.” Caleb watched as the smile grew across Leo's face. He wanted so many things out of this life—but putting that smile on Leo's face was something he wanted to do every single day for the rest of his life. Whether he and Leo ever stood up and made it official or not.
Leo hung up the phone. He was still smiling like he'd won the lottery. “They're definitely eloping,” he said. “Vegas. Benji says it'll be real classy, but what do you want to bet that they end up with an Elvis impersonator doing the ceremony?”
Caleb laughed. “No way, Diego would skin Benji slowly if he let that happen.”
“You wanna bet on it?” Leo said slyly. “Loser does the dishes for a week?”
“A week? A month,” Caleb argued. “This is a serious bet.”
“You're on,” Leo said, moving his legs, then standing up. “We need to pack. A car will be here in a few. Quick flight to Vegas. Wedding is tomorrow afternoon.”
Caleb followed him through the house, up the stairs into their bedroom, then into the enormous walk-in closet they shared. “I still can't believe they're getting married in Vegas.”
“It doesn't really feel like them, but it could be fun,” Leo said, putting his hands on his hips, staring at the racks of clothes. “What do you even wear to a Vegas wedding?”
“Something shiny,” Caleb said, pulling out one of his most obnoxiously patterned satin shirts. “Something sparkly, maybe?”
“I guess,” Leo grumbled. Out of the two of them, Caleb was definitely more into both shiny and sparkly.
Fifteen minutes later, they were packed, Leo still whining about not owning anything appropriate for a Vegas wedding as they climbed back down the stairs to wait for the car that Benji had had sent to take them to the airport.
“I'd loan you something,” Caleb said, as they stood in the foyer, “but I think it'd be a little big on you. Maybe more than a little.”
Leo shot him an annoyed look. “For the final time, I am not small, you are just large.”
“You just keep telling yourself that, babe,” Caleb said with a grin. “Maybe someday it'll be true.”
———
The car whisked them to the airport, and when they entered the private jet, Benji and Diego were already there, sharing a single seat. Ahead of him, Caleb watched as Leo froze in place. “What about Mom?” he cried, when he saw Felix, who was sitting next to Max. “She's . . .”