Page 22

CHAPTER 22

KENO

We knew our week off fell into the end of January, early February, so we’d booked a lot of wedding appointments for that week. The only thing we need to work around is conditioning and practice. Not games and travel.

We thought it was a good idea at the time, but now we’re planning impromptu trips home to talk to our parents and grandparents about family members and addresses and whatever. It’s fine. It needs to happen.

We agreed that since our parents and grandparents aren’t close by to help us with the wedding and to feel like they’re involved, we’d fly to them even though this could probably be done via email at the very least.

Initially, we were going to go together. One day to my family; one day to Etna’s family. However, that meant losing more than two days of our very short week, and we have a lot to get done. As much as we aren’t looking forward to spending any time apart, we opted for the same twenty-four hours—Etna flies to Maryland to see his family while I fly up to Oregon to see mine.

“What time does your flight leave tomorrow?” We’d had to stop wedding stuff to book travel arrangements when we got home yesterday.

He grunts. “6:05 in the damn morning. Yours?”

“7:10. I’m still heading to the airport with you, though. Seems stupid to pay for parking twice. Especially since we land here within twenty minutes of each other the next morning, yeah?”

Etna nods. “I land at 6:50.”

“I’m at 7:15.” Fortunately, my flight is less than three hours non-stop. Etna has to take red eyes overnight to Phoenix from DC, and back. It’s a long, exhausting trip.

“Did you talk to your sister? Let her know you’re going to be there?” I ask.

I try not to watch Etna, but I can’t help myself. I study his profile carefully. We haven’t talked about his sister since Christmas. As far as I know, he hasn’t spoken to her since, either.

He shakes his head.

My shoulders sag. I know it’s not my fault, but I can’t help but feel?—

Etna pulls my face back to him by my chin and kisses me on the lips. We’re at a red light, so it’s quick. My heart races in my chest, making the only thing I hear for a split second the rapid bum-bum-bum of my pulse.

“You did nothing wrong,” Etna insists, then kisses me again. He releases me as the light turns green and returns to driving. “She’ll come around when she’s done throwing her tantrum.”

I sigh. It does feel like it’s my fault somehow. I’m not sure I actually did anything except exist, but if I hadn’t been there, if I hadn’t…

“Keno,” Etna interrupts my spiral, taking my hand in his and squeezing it. “Stop. This isn’t your fault. I swear.”

“Okay.” I know that. I didn’t do anything. But the sick feeling in my stomach when I think about it suggests I’m the thing that got between Etna and his twin. Even if unintentionally.

“Okay, what’s on the list today? I’m hoping we can knock some shit out.”

“Assuming we can settle on flowers today, I think we need to at least get our invitations designed and reach out to vendors who book up quickly—like the photographer and a band. Do you want live music or a DJ?”

“I think a live band would be cool. You have one in mind?”

“Ohh, what about Caffeine Daydreams? I love their music.”

I laugh. “You don’t think we could really book them for a wedding, do you?”

Etna shrugs. “Why not?”

“I guess we can look for an agent’s email when we get back. Otherwise, maybe take a look around for a local band?”

“Yeah, cool. Caffeine Daydreams is my first choice, but I’m cool with local artists too.”

“Uh… next on the list that I think we can knock off is to confirm with Melissa we can hold the rehearsal there. Otherwise, we apparently need to have a rehearsal space.”

Etna sighs. “Okay. Next?”

“Moving into tomorrow, we need to hire transportation, which I think might be a little premature since we don’t know who’s coming and from where.”

“Are we supposed to provide everyone’s transportation?” Etna glances at me.

I shrug. “I don’t know. This to-do says, ‘ get all transportation sorted .’”

“Okay, maybe we reschedule that until next week and look up what the etiquette is for wedding transportation first.”

“I mean, if people all arrive via the airport around the same time—we could provide a time window—then I think we could bus them all to the resort. As long as they’re staying at the resort. And then bus them back to the airport.”

“I think flying in will be easier than getting them back.”

“Fair. Let’s do some research on that.” I reschedule that particular task until next week.

“Oh. Order rentals.”

“What kind of rentals?” Etna asks as we pull into the parking lot of the florist.

I shrug. “That’s all it says.”

He gives me a deadpan look. “When you schedule things, you should at least make sure we know what it means.”

Grinning, I shrug. “We’ll look later.” I glance at the flower shop. There’s a woman waiting for us at the door with a big smile. “Do we even need flowers?” I ask. “I mean, I don’t think either of us plans to have a bouquet, right?”

Etna shakes his head. “No. But we’re here and we made an appointment, so we might as well see what she has.”

Fair enough.

As soon as our doors open, the woman greets us with an enthusiastic, “Hello!” She ushers us inside before we manage to respond. “I’m so happy to meet you. Right this way; over here. You can see some examples of our flower arrangements as we walk.”

And by walk, she means run. I can keep up with people with three times her stride, but I feel like I’m running to keep up with this woman.

She leads us to a back room that’s filled with flowers—obviously—and a couple tables. There are books and a cute little coffee station. “Would you like a drink?” she offers.

Etna and I shake our heads as we obediently sit in the chairs she points at. Clearly, that’s the wrong answer. We receive a disappointed smile. She recovers quickly and joins us. “Okay, let’s talk flowers. What do you have in mind?”

“We don’t have anything in mind,” Etna admits. “We’re not entirely sure we need flowers.”

“Of course you need flowers,” she says. “Every wedding has flowers. Do you really want to be the one that doesn’t? The one people talk about because they didn’t have flowers?”

I glance at Etna. Is he as put off by her as I am?

“Okay,” Etna says, and yeah, I think he is. That’s not a happy tone. “What do you have in mind?”

“What’s your budget?” she asks.

“A thousand dollars,” I say.

She shakes her head, looking absolutely appalled. “Oh no. That’s enough for a bride’s bouquet. Not for all the flowers.”

“We don’t have a bride,” Etna deadpans. “We’re two dudes getting married and we’re not wearing dresses or carrying bouquets.”

We’ve completely flabbergasted her.

“Have you ever dealt with a gay couple before?” I ask.

“Yes. Oh, yes, of course.” We don’t ask for proof, but she provides it in a garishly bright rainbow hardbound book that’s filled with only LGBTQIA+ weddings. She points out all the flowers in each photo.

“What about the other books?” Etna asks. “Any in those?”

“Nope,” she says, smiling. “Just this one.”

I can see why.

Etna pulls his phone out and makes no effort at all to pretend it’s ringing before he says he needs to take the call and excuses himself. I’d be irritated that he left me alone with this woman except he returns a minute later telling her we have an urgent matter that we need to attend to.

“Of course!” she says, jumping to her feet. “You come back after, and we’ll get everything sorted!”

“Right,” Etna says and takes my hand to lead me out. “Thanks for your time.”

Once we’re in the car, he says, “We’re not going back there. I don’t like her.”

“She was really pushy,” I agree, then sigh. “Now what?”

Etna drives down the road and pulls into a different parking lot. I watch as he takes his phone out again and begins tapping away. “Okay, there’s another florist nearby that has excellent ratings. I say this is the last chance and if we’re not happy, we skip flowers.”

“Done,” I agree.

It’s ten minutes down the road, outside of downtown Phoenix. The building looks like a big barn. If it weren’t for the flowers everywhere and the sign that reads Nat’s Flower Paradise, I might have thought we were at the wrong place.

“Interesting,” I say.

“What’s interesting is that there’s a barn in Phoenix. Still usable and everything.”

He’s not wrong. Etna takes my hand once we’re outside and we head in. There are people everywhere. Along one wall are loose flowers in buckets covering the entire wall. There’s a bunch of people shopping one at a time with baskets in their arms filled with various kinds of flowers.

A mister turns on and a little girl squeals with laughter as the adults back up while the flowers get their water. I grin. Already, I love this place 100 times more than the last.

We wait in line for the counter. When it’s our turn, Etna asks, “I know we just showed up off the street with no appointment, but I’m hoping to talk to someone about possibly flowering our wedding.”

“Flowering your wedding,” she repeats with a huge smile. “I love that. Hold on.” She turns and shouts, “NAT!! These cuties need you to flower their wedding, boss.” She turns back. “I’m using that phrase from now on. You’ve started a trend.”

Etna smiles. “I’m afraid but thank you.”

“Nat will be right out. Please feel free to browse.”

There are literally flowers everywhere. When we look up, I find vines hanging over the rafters with flowers hanging from them. Not dead flowers but living flowers. Flowers that are maybe part of the vine.

“I have to say, I’m impressed these can survive in the desert,” Etna says as he examines something that looks insanely exotic.

I nod. He’s not wrong.

“Boys that need their wedding flowered,” the woman at the register calls a few minutes later. Etna and I exchange a look that ends in laughter. We turn and… Is that… “This is Nat,” she says. “He’ll take good care of you.”

I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but this man is a giant. Not to be cliché, but he could totally be a lumberjack from folklore. He’s enormous. Neither Etna nor I are small men. We’re both over six feet. This man is at least a head taller. At least .

He’s broad, burly, and looks like he can pull a tree from the ground and joust with it. He’s all Viking beard and long braided hair, too. To top it off, despite his outwardly stereotypical masculine appearance, he appears shy.

That’s cute as hell.

“I already like him better,” Etna whispers as he once more takes my hand. “Hi, Nat,” he says, offering his hand.

Nat is definitely shy when he takes Etna’s hand. “Hi. Uh… you’re here to get your wedding flowered?” he asks, the last two words sounding confused and cautious.

I laugh.

“To be fair, I don’t know what the proper term is,” Etna admits. “Apparently, it’s not that. I’m also going to tell you right up front that I have no idea what we’re looking for or even if flowers are necessary.”

“Flowers aren’t for everyone,” he agrees. “That’s okay. I can show you what we’ve done in the past if you like, and you can decide from there.”

Yep, like him a whole lot better.

“Please. That sounds great.”

He smiles, and that shyness vanishes entirely. “This way.”

Nat turns and pushes the gate at the counter open. We pause. “You want us to go behind the counter?” I clarify.

“Yes. Follow me.”

We look at the lady at the counter and she’s smirking at us while helping the woman in front of her. Etna and I hurry to catch up. This time we’re running for a legit reason. We wind our way through the back tables where there are people working on flower arrangements. There are rows of shelves with things I can’t identify and flowers on every single surface, and flower clippings all over the floor.

Nat disappears through a door leading outside and we hurry to follow. Out back, there are half a dozen enormous greenhouses.

“How did we miss these from the front?” I ask.

Etna points and grabs my hand. “Come on. We’re going to lose him.” Laughing, we sprint after Nat as he steps into a greenhouse door. Then we stop in our tracks.

The place is like a jungle, filled to the brim with plants I’ve never seen, but are absolutely breathtaking. Nat is just across the path, delicately touching a flower petal. I have the strange sensation he should be in a painting like that.

“Flowers tell their own stories,” Nat says quietly. “Every story is different. Every scent and color and shape. Humans have devised meanings for every flower. Bittersweet, truth; clematis, mental beauty; hyssop, sacrifice; rhododendron, danger, beware.” He flashes us an amused smile. “When you build a bouquet, you create a story. By color, you change a story.”

Nat bends over and plucks a bud off the ground. He brushes the dirt away and hands it to me. “What story do you want to tell?”

Chills race down my arms.

“What means best friends falling in love and living happily ever after?” Etna asks. “Oh, and hockey.”

Nat’s smile turns into laughter. “What colors? What’s your theme? Tell me about your wedding. About your relationship. We’ll create a story for you.”

“Our colors are dark blues and grays, and a light blue gray. We don’t have a theme; they all seemed anticlimactic,” I say.

“And the story is… simple. We’ve been best friends since the moment we met and when it came to choosing someone forever, it seemed like an easy choice.” Etna looks at me. “I’d choose Keno every single time.”

For real, tears sting my eyes as I stare into his. Fucker.

“That’s perfect. Here, come with me.”

Once more, we follow Nat. He picks a flower here and there and then deposits us on a garden bench with glasses of icy lemonade—I have no idea where they came from—and tells us to sit tight and enjoy the flowers for a few minutes.

“You’re not allowed to say things like that in front of other people,” I mutter. “Seriously, I will not cry in front of other people. I didn’t even know I was the kind of person who cries at words.”

Etna chuckles. He drapes his arm over the back of my chair.

Nat returns as if he steps out of the trees. Like he was one and then just… came to life. With him is a gorgeous, unusual bouquet.

There are deep blue flowers, the color of the night sky. The greenery can’t really be called green because they’re such a deep, dark color. Almost black. Maybe blue. Maybe green. There are wispy things that I don’t feel are living. A couple twirly sticks and these fuzzy things that are a deep green with blue in the base.

Then there are light gray vining flowers, two different varieties and shades. And some dark blue berries. It’s all wrapped in dark gray paper.

Nat hands the bouquet to Etna. “How do you feel about this story?”

Etna stares at it, turning it slowly in his hand as he looks at it from different angles. “Yes,” he says and looks up at me. “It’s perfect.”

I smile. It is perfect. I don’t know what the hell it’s saying, but I love it all the same. “Now, tell us where we’re going to put this.”

Nat chuckles. He produces a book from thin air. No, seriously. I’m not sure where it came from and am quite certain he didn’t have it when he walked over. He pulls a table over and sits on a bench across from us. “Let’s take a look and see what speaks to you.”