Tied Together (20 page)

“You can’t die on me now, I just got you back.”

He turned his head on the pillow to look at me. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. I used my finger to wipe it away. Brandon took the opportunity to grab my finger and gave it a soft kiss. I smiled at the gesture.

“You never lost me, Ryan,” he said as his eyes fluttered shut.

“What do you mean?”

“Remember what we said when we were in college?”

“We said a lot of things in college. I think mainly about how suave I was and how you needed a new wardrobe.” I chuckled.

“True, but something we said after the first time we were together.”

“What was that?” I brought the hand I was holding close to my chest.

“That we were tied together. Forever.”

In that moment, no words would ever be truer.

Three years later

“Hurry up, dick sucker—I mean my lovely husband—or we’re going to be late!” Moxie called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Mommy, Sophie called me a sick bucker.” I heard Jaxon scurry his little three-year-old feet over to his mother. Sophie had taken to repeating everything Moxie said.

“Sophie, I told you if you were going to use bad language, try to use it correctly.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head at the chaos that was happening below me. Moxie had her hands full with two vivacious three-year-olds and a genius eleven-year-old beginning to show signs of puberty. I felt a strong hand on my shoulder and opened my eyes to see Miles standing next to me. Over the years, I’d given Moxie shit about convincing Miles to switch to the home team. But in truth, Miles had become a brother to me, and I thanked my lucky stars they were both in my life.

“Are you ready?”

I looked around the room. I felt my insides start to quake and a bit of nausea began to turn my stomach.

“It will never be the same,” I said quietly. I looked at Miles for reassurance, but he chuckled.

“No, it will never be the same. But I can promise you something.”

I gave him a questioning look.

“It will be a hundred times better.” He smiled.

It that was the reassurance I needed. I looked at the room one last time, knowing that when I came back, my world would have a whole other meaning. I took a long, shaky breath and turned to follow Miles downstairs.

My goddaughter, Sophie, greeted me at the bottom of the stairs.

“Puncle Ryben!” She squealed and ran into my arms.

“I heard you giving your brother a hard time down here; I thought we’d talked about that.”

“But he was being a dude bag.”

I looked at Moxie.

“What? He was being kind of a douchebag, pulling her ponytails.”

“I fear for your children,” I said, carrying Sophie over to her mother and then bending down to give my godson, Jaxson, a high five.”

“Is Dillion at school?”

“Yes, Renee is going to pick him up afterward and meet us at the hospital.”

I stood back up, nodded, and wiped the back of my sweaty neck

“Everyone into the minivan,” Miles called, jingling the car keys. Jaxson and Sophie ran to him like little minions.

“I’d never thought I’d see the day where you owned a minivan. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Moxie put one hand on her hip and pointed a finger in my face. “Listen, cum sucker, you will learn rather quickly that it’s about convenience, not style. That baby has all the high-tech amenities, plus we can pull down the seats in the back so Miles and I can have some wild sex.”

“Eww, you have sex while you poor kids are in the car?”

She slapped the back of my head, “No—well, yes. We put the kids in front of the TV inside the house and sneak into the van for some privacy.”

I howled with laughter.

“Laugh now, butt fucker, but mark down this time and date so I can say I told you so.”

I didn’t think I would have to mark this date anywhere. Today was the day that would forever change my life. Or, more appropriately, the second day that changed my life. The first day was the day Brandon Ford agreed to be my husband.

We all piled into the van, and Moxie strapped the twins into their booster seats. I looked down to my left hand and admired the platinum band that adorned my finger. I’d proposed to Brandon at the end of Navy Pier, overlooking the Chicago skyline. I had gotten down on one knee and told him that he had my entire heart and soul since we were eighteen years old. He picked me up and kissed me so fiercely that it made my knees weak. He’d said yes, and the rest, as they say, was history.

“I’m going to drop you off at the front of the hospital and then find some parking,” Miles said, steering his way through traffic.

“Yeah, okay,” was all I could manage.

We pulled up to the hospital’s main entrance, and as promised, Miles dropped me off, taking the rest of the Dane crew with him to find a spot. Every movement seemed to turn into a dream sequence as I went through the sliding glass doors.

“May I help you?” It was the same woman who’d greeted me when I rushed to get to Moxie during her delivery.

“Nope, this time I know where I’m going,” I said.

She waved her hand, and I continued to the bank of elevators that would take me up to labor and delivery. I entered the elevator, pressed the button, and prayed that everything would go smoothly.

“Hi, Ryan.” Laura, one of the labor and delivery nurses I’d gotten to know through Brandon, greeted me with a smile. “They’re in room two thirty-seven.”

“Thanks, Laura. How is she?”

“Progressing nicely. The better question to ask is: How is he?”

I snorted; I could only imagine what my husband was going through, especially since we decided he would not be the delivering doctor.

I walked to the assigned room, passing other rooms with women in different stages of labor. I heard the word push coming from a room further down the hall. My feet sped up when I realized the word was coming from the room I was told to go to.

I busted into the room to find Brandon holding our surrogate, Quinn’s, hand and wiping her forehead with a wet washcloth.

“Holy shit, did I miss it?” I wasn’t expecting Quinn to deliver so fast. When Brandon called me, they were just checking her into the hospital.

Brandon saw me, and his face brightened. “No, but she’s close. She dilated pretty fast since I called you.”

I walked over to my husband and kissed him like it was the first time. Then I went to give Quinn a kiss on her forehead. I would never be able to come up with enough words to thank this selfless woman for helping Brandon and I start our family. Quinn was married with her own children. We’d been matched through a surrogacy agency, and we’d instantly known we wanted her to carry our child. We’d used an anonymous egg donor and decided that Brandon would be the sperm donor. It didn’t matter to us who the biological father was because we would both be the primary daddies.

Another hour passed by. Moxie, Miles, and the kids said a quick hello and then went to sit in the waiting room. Quinn’s husband, Ray, arrived and coached her right along with us.

At five fifty-two in the evening, our son, Ethan Jonathan Ford-Keller, was born. He had a healthy pair of lungs as he came out into the world crying. I had the honor of cutting our son’s cord, and the nurse swept him away to clean him up and get his weight. I turned to my husband, who had tears rolling down his cheeks. I wiped them away with my fingers and took his face in my hands. Bringing him close, I kissed him, hoping that my kiss conveyed all the words and feelings I had at that moment.

They wrapped Ethan in a white blanket and put a blue hat on his head. They handed him to Quinn first. She placed a kiss on his tiny head, and then looked at both Brandon and me.

“It was a true honor to carry this beautiful boy into the world for two of the most extraordinary people.” She lifted Ethan up to place him in my arms as Brandon stood behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist. It was my turn to have tears pour from my eyes as I looked at our son. I turned in my husband’s arms to show him our perfect boy. He bent down to kiss his head, and then he kissed me.

“This is my family,” he said softly.

“Forever, our family,” I replied.

“Wait, I have something.” Brandon strode over to his workbag and pulled something out. He walked back over to where I was cradling Ethan and held up an onesie that had a man’s tie printed on it.

I threw my head back in laughter and looked back at my husband who was grinning ear to ear.

I sat at my kitchen table and thought, how the hell am I going to write an acknowledgment page for a THIRD book. When I finished writing
The Chronicles of Moxie
I laughed to myself and thought there was no way people would want me to do this again. I was wrong. Then I wrote the sequel,
First Comes Love
, and people kept asking when Ryan was going to get his own book. I had a nice conversation with myself on whether I could pull off another one? Well, here it is.

Ryan and Brandon’s story would not have been told if it weren’t for the fans. Ryan snuck into your hearts as much as he did mine. With my love of Ryan came my love for Brandon. I don’t think I would have ever discovered who he was if I didn’t write Ryan’s story. Now they are both here, and I have you, the fans, to thank for that.

To my most magnificent editing team Write Divas. Thank you for putting up with… well, me. I know it’s not easy dealing with my grammar issues, but you girls do it with such grace. Okay, maybe not grace, more huffing and puffing. However, it wouldn’t have been a book without you.

To Amy Queau: You knocked the cover out of the ballpark. We’re not talking a schoolyard playground, I mean a MLB stadium. Thank you and I can’t wait until I see you again so I can cuddle into your bosom.

Thank you to all the people who beta read for me during this whole process. I know you all take time out of your day to read my story, even when it’s in a mangled mess. But you got the meaning behind it and that’s want counts. I hope that the rest of the world sees what you did in this process.

To Maris Black: The Thelma to my Louise, or was it the other way around? You have listened to me rant about this book from the start, and you have cheered me on every step of the way. Your words, both in your pages of your work and personal encouragement to me, have inspired me more then you know. I hope with every fiber of my being that I lose our bet. If not, I want my character!

To Heather Mckay: I cannot wait until we come back in our next life as gay men. You will make an excellent husband and a bottom. If you continue to be nice to me I might consider letting you top. You have been with me for the start of my m/m journey, and what a journey it has been.

To my husband, the one I call Moo. You silly man, how have you put up with me? Days and nights of me stressing out, crying, ranting, laughing, smiling, and then all over again. You encourage me everyday and your words “keep writing” is my fuel. We’re Tied Together.