2023 Top Ten Gay Romance

The Wedding by T.J. Blackley-4

Roger picked up his fork, put it back down, and asked, somewhat more hesitantly than he meant to, “Why would you not? Speak, that is.”

Edward sobered all at once, lifting his hand to cover his cheek and one eye. “I suppose we would have had to speak of it at some point regardless,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. He lowered his hand and looked at Roger almost beseechingly, as though what he was about to say might make Roger change his mind. “I held my tongue because…well, you know my past, better than anyone save Vincent,” he said, still gazing entreatingly at Roger.

For a moment Roger couldn’t think what he could possibly have meant, and then it clicked into place—his past lovers, of course, and how foolish indeed—and he grabbed for Edward’s hand, now sitting on the table between them. “Oh, Edward,” he said, his heart breaking a little in his chest for all their lost time. “I don’t care about that, not one bit.”

“Don’t you?” Edward asked, looking crushingly relieved.

Roger shook his head firmly. “Not a bit,” he repeated. “In fact, I find it rather convenient.”

“Oh?” Edward’s eyebrows lifted.

They had wandered into dangerous territory. Roger’s head was still rather lightly seated on his shoulders from their kisses; he had to be careful not to talk himself into throwing himself bodily at Edward—his fiancé, now—here at the table. “One of us ought to know what he’s doing,” he said, a little breathlessly. “God knows it won’t be me.”

Edward’s eyes flashed dark for a moment, making Roger’s blood run hot in his veins. He lifted Roger’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, then turned it over, nosed his cuff slightly out of the way, and pressed another kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“Oh,” Roger breathed, utterly floored. He could feel a little dampness on his wrist, where Edward’s lips had touched him.

He was saved throwing himself into Edward’s lap, propriety be damned, by the housekeeper coming in. Edward dropped his wrist as if burned, and Roger pulled it back toward himself, coughing to cover his desire to sing with happiness.

“Will you come with me to speak with my father, once you’re dressed?” Roger asked, once he had ahold of himself again. It was clear neither of them would eat any more, and he couldn’t bear the thought of parting from Edward so soon. “To tell him our news?”

Edward smiled at him, wide and stunning. “Of course,” he said. “Give me five minutes to make myself presentable. Did you come over in your carriage?” Roger nodded. “Then we’ll take that back,” Edward said, rising from the table. “Five minutes,” he repeated, and left the room almost at a run.

He took nearly fifteen minutes to dress, which Roger had predicted, but soon enough they were tucked into Roger’s father’s carriage on the swift ride back to the house he shared with his father. Not for much longer, Roger thought to himself, and a wild rush of happiness swept through him.

Joseph Millbourne had roused himself, in the time Roger had been gone, and broken his own fast; he was fully dressed by the time Roger pulled Edward into the study alongside him, and watched them enter with a bemused expression. “There you are,” he said, sounding pleased to see his nephew. “What brings you here so early, Edward? Roger, did you fetch him for something? Have I forgotten an appointment?”

Roger shook his head and looked to Edward; Edward looked back, his eyes wide. It fell to Roger to speak. “We have…we have news, Father,” he said, stumbling a little over the words.

Joseph’s forehead creased. “Good news, I hope?”

“Yes,” Roger said in a relieved rush. “Yes, the best news.” Joseph gestured for him to go on. “I have,” Roger started, and then all at once it seemed too big to say, in mere words. He took Edward’s hand, and one of Joseph’s eyebrows lifted. “I have asked Edward for, for his hand,” Roger managed to say. “And he has accepted me.”

He was suddenly deathly afraid. Now that he had Edward, he could not give him up, he would not, not for anything, but if his father disapproved…

He needn’t have worried. Joseph took a moment to look absolutely stunned, and then his habitual smile, crooked and wide, spread across his face. “Truly?” he asked, looking between them.

“I know I ought to have asked you first—” Edward began, sounding as nervous as Roger had just felt, but Joseph cut him off.

“Nonsense, my boy,” he said, coming toward them to put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Roger has never needed my permission to do anything, let alone marry, and anyway he says he asked you, so you didn’t get the chance.” He looked between them again. “You two are happy with this?” he asked. “You love each other?”

“Yes,” Edward said, giving Roger a glance that Roger could feel on his cheek even without looking back. “I do.”

“As do I,” Roger said, giving Edward’s hand a squeeze where he was still holding it. “Very much.”

Joseph beamed at them. “Then that is all that matters,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed first Roger, and then Edward on the forehead. “Congratulations, my boys,” he said, squeezing their shoulders. “This is, indeed, the very best news.”

Roger felt Edward sag next to him, with the same rush of relief weakening his own knees. They allowed themselves to be chivvied into two armchairs, and Joseph thankfully did not comment when Roger refused to let go of Edward’s hand, although he did look frighteningly like he was about to coo at them.

“Have you thought of any details yet?” Joseph asked, once they were all seated and settled. “When you want the wedding to be, and where, and so forth?”

“Soon,” Edward said immediately, and then, as if embarrassed by his urgency, said, “That is, I would like it to be soon.”

“As would I,” Roger assured him. Edward gave him a grateful look. “I know it will take time to arrange everything, but perhaps in the early days of the new year?”

“I can arrange that,” Joseph said. “I’ll speak to the parson and see what openings he has in early January. Assuming you do not object to our church as a location, Edward?”

“Not at all,” Edward said. “To be honest, it does not matter to me where we marry, only that we do.”

Joseph did coo at that, and Roger had to restrain himself from joining in. “Very well,” Joseph said. “We’ll sort the date out with the parson, and then start on the rest of the details.”

To Roger’s surprise, his father’s eyes misted over. “It will be strange, not having you here in this house with me anymore,” he said, when Roger made an inquiring, concerned noise. “But that is an old man’s folly. You were never going to stay forever, and if I am to part with you, at least it is to one I already love as my own son.”

Now Roger was tearing up, and he looked at Edward even as he groped for his father’s hand. Edward, too, had tears in his eyes, and took Joseph’s other hand when he reached out for him. They sat in a circle together, holding each other, and Roger had never felt more loved than he did in that moment.

* * * *

Edward

By the time Edward took Roger’s mouth in their wedding kiss, they had only shared a little under a dozen, in the two weeks since their engagement. Uncle Joseph had been remarkably decent about giving them at least a moment alone every day, but sometimes they had better things to do than kiss in that time, even though if someone had asked Edward even a month ago, he would not have valued anything as more important than sharing a kiss with Roger.

Ten kisses, and none of them had been like this, the kiss where Roger took him—wayward, loose Edward, always to laugh with and never to take seriously—to husband. Edward could feel his own tears in his eyes and Roger’s tears on his cheek, as they sealed their vows and were knit together forever.

His lips were damp, when they finally pulled apart, bound together now as married spouses. He licked them almost unconsciously, seeking for another taste of Roger, and saw Roger’s eyes track the appearance and movement of his tongue, just as unconsciously.

They hung together in a breathless moment, which was only broken by Vincent’s hands coming down on Edward’s shoulders to pull him into a backward embrace. Roger laughed and accepted an embrace of his own, and then Uncle Joseph clapped them both in his arms as well.

“My boys,” he murmured, and Edward felt his throat choke up once more.

There were more embraces, from their gathered friends, and Edward had the distinct pleasure of watching Roger totally lose his composure when finally introduced to Vincent’s husband Eiji. Edward was not lost enough to his own happiness not to worry that Roger’s enthusiasm would be painful to Vincent, but when he looked at Vincent, their friend was still smiling.

Edward put his hand on Roger’s back, unwilling not to be touching him for a single moment, and murmured, “It is time for dinner.” Roger stopped his flow of words to beam at Edward, and Edward, beaming back, said loudly, “I must say, getting married makes one heartily hungry,” to a round of laughter.

Vincent joined them in their carriage back to what was now their townhouse, but Edward could honestly say, later, that he paid his dearest friend not a whit of attention. There was too much of Roger to look at, too many new expressions playing across his face, too much love pouring out of his new husband to take in.

Uncle Joseph took what was now his carriage alone, and met them at their house for a meal that was almost too rowdy for acceptability, the hour being what it was. It was a small, intimate meal, just the newlyweds, Uncle Joseph, and Vincent, and only a very little wine, but Edward felt drunk enough on his husband, on the pride in his uncle’s face, and on the strength of his reunion with Vincent. The latter two were indulgent, and Roger matched his energy easily, clearly as thrilled with the day as Edward was; together, the four of them passed a happy meal indeed.

“Come,” Vincent said finally, when the food was gone and they ran into the risk of running late for the ball. He stood and said, “Let us change, and give the newlyweds a moment alone. Just one moment, mind, or we really will be late.” Edward made a face at him, at which Vincent just laughed, and then stood, offering his hand to Roger.

His servants had laid their suits for the ball out in what was now their bedroom, and they were on the bed, waiting to be changed into, but the moment the door closed behind Roger he was in Edward’s arms. Edward seized his mouth in their dozenth kiss, hungry and sweet. He cupped his hand around Roger’s jaw and licked his husband’s lower lip—the first time one of their kisses had gone even so far.