The Bromance Zone by Lauren Blakely

Epilogue

Owen

The next year is everything.

We live it up, River and Owen style. We go to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving, like we planned, and it’s freeing to walk in there holding hands. His parents are ecstatic, draping us in hugs.

Turns out I don’t mind hugs so much when it’s about this—him and me.

As the year rolls on, we go to coffee shops and argue about whether London Fog lattes are better than Earl Grey teas. Spoiler alert: we don’t agree.

We wander around The Mission, checking out new bakeries and ordering cakes.

“Mostly, I just like to watch you moan around the dessert as you eat it,” River tells me one day as I take a bite of a coconut cake that’s particularly decadent.

“Because it makes you think about the way I moan when my lips wrap around your cock,” I tell him.

River leans forward across the table. “Exactly.”

I join him on a hike, and I love it more than I expect. The company has something to do with it. So I go with him a few times a month, and his dog starts to fall in love with me too.

We take trips, making our own bucket list of our favorite Discovery Prism places, checking out street art in Santa Fe, and maritime lore in Nova Scotia, and the best of underground Los Angeles.

River is a great traveling companion because he’s curious by nature. I’m a good one for him, because I’m game for anything.

And we make the most of our weekends in San Francisco, something that becomes even easier when I move in with him.

Goldilocks isn’t happy about having two new roommates, but she is a cat, so that’s to be expected. River charms her, though, discovering the key to Goldilocks has been petting her chin ever so lightly, and that makes her purr like a locomotive.

“Huh. She never really was into petting with me.”

“Lean into her name. She likes things to be just so,” he says.

“You’re a cat charmer,” I say, but that’s not entirely surprising.

River just has that way about him.

He knows how to make any mammal feel good.

River makes me feel incredible nearly every night. Sometimes we’re our own brand of kinky, using handcuffs and ties. Sometimes we’re rough, grabbing, kneading, spanking. Sometimes, we just take it slow and sensual, and it feels like the world disappears when our bodies tangle together.

I love it all with him.

Every night. Every day.

And when the calendar turns to November again, and we’re hanging out at The Lazy Hammock with Grant and Declan, the shortstop offers us the cabin one more time.

“Yes,” River says, pouncing on the invitation in less than a second.

“I’ll just add in my yes as well, though it seems Mister Bossy has spoken.”

“Mister Bossy,” Grant says with a chuckle. “That’s a perfect name for my business partner.”

River is bossy. He likes to be in charge. He likes to be in control. But he also likes to give that power to me. To let me make him feel good. Feel wanted. Feel loved.

Fortunately, I’m great at that.

So we road trip again, snacking and arguing, debating Sleepless in Seattle this time, and deciding it didn’t age well, but that Love, Simon definitely deserves a rewatch.

“Let’s watch it tonight when we get to the Fight Club Sex Cabin,” River declares when we reach Markleeville.

“Before or after the hot tub?” I ask.

“Depends on what we’re doing in the hot tub, cutie,” he says.

“So maybe I shouldn’t exhaust you in the jacuzzi.”

“Exhaust me anywhere you want. You know I love that you’re only speedy at taking showers,” he says with a sexy wink.

“I do like to take my time on all the field-day events,” I say.

Fifteen minutes later, we pull into the driveway, cut the engine, and stare out the front window at the orange haze in the sky. “River?”

“Owen?”

“I think it’s starting to snow.”

I couldn’t ask for anything more.

Well, there’s one thing.

A little later, when we break out the champagne—using flutes this time—and settle in for a game of Would You Rather on the couch in front of the fire, I draw a quiet, measured breath.

I can do this.

I ignore all the nerves skating over my skin. The wild thrumming in my chest. I meet my boyfriend’s deep, soulful eyes. Then I ask the question I came here to ask.

“Would you rather be proposed to in front of the fire right now, or outside in the hot tub in a few minutes?”

River’s eyes pop.

His hand flies to his mouth.

And he just nods, like crazy, like he can’t stop. “Yes, yes, yes.”

My heart glows, and I take that as a now.

So I get down on one knee in front of the fire, and remove a tiny box from my pants pocket. With nervous fingers but a certain heart, I flip it open. “You’re my best friend, my boyfriend, my lover. You’re my favorite person. The one I want to curl up with every night, wake up to every morning, and spend all my days with,” I say, my throat tightening with emotion, so much it’s overflowing in me. But it feels so good to love this deeply. “River Michaels, I love you so much. I love you more than I ever thought possible. And I would be the happiest man ever if you would be my husband.”

He wastes zero time. He’s down on the floor, on his knees, clutching my face. “Yes. I say yes. I’ve been thinking about it constantly and you beat me to it, and I love that, and I love you, and you are the only man for me. So I say yes.”

I slide a platinum band on his finger, then bring him close for a tender kiss that’s full of so much love—like all these days and nights with him.

When we break the kiss, River smiles like he never intends to stop. “I guess we’ve got ourselves a marriage pact now.”

I suppose that’s the true Harry and Rod rule of falling for a friend—cherish him, love him, and let all that friendship fuel a forever with each other.

* * *

That summer, we get married in San Francisco with all our friends and family there to see us say, I do.

Delilah brings the rings down the aisle.

When the justice of the peace pronounces us husband and husband, I kiss my groom, and River kisses his.