“There. Stand on that rock with the pond behind you,” my sister, Martha, directed.
I glanced at Grayson and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged.
Martha took out her phone and expressed impatience. “Guys. Seriously. It’s your one year anniversary. I need a good photo. You need a good photo. It’s been a hell of a year.”
She was right. It had been a hell of a year.
I reached out and laced my fingers with his, leading him up the shore and onto the flat rock my sister had indicated. We’d hiked for an hour to get here and the view was spectacular. Might as well record it for posterity’s sake. And it was, in fact, the one year anniversary of me asking Grayson to move in.
He’d been reluctant, if only because he prided himself on his independence and worried about becoming that couple who always stayed in and never did anything exciting anymore. And, well, maybe we had become that couple in a small way, but it was only because we enjoyed each other’s company so much we didn’t feel the need for anyone else much of the time. We still made an effort to go out and meet up with friends at the bars and there were lots of family events too. We were lucky to have people who believed in us and our relationship and who celebrated us as much as our more conventionally married siblings.
As we stepped onto the rock, Grayson slipped and clutched my fingers.
“Shit,” he laughed, as I steadied him.
He moved close to me and squeezed my hand. “I’m better than okay, Brian. I’m awesome.”
I smiled at him, my other half, my lover, my best friend. “Me too,” I said, leaning in to kiss him.
“Got it!” My sister said happily.
But we ignored her and kept kissing, content in ourselves and each other and the commitment we’d made.