They tried to side me blind but I've been waiting for it all along. What I didn't expect was their delivery. No, I didn't expect that at all.
Someone brought my favourite gin to the table. I was the only one drinking it in the boathouse as the rain poured down on the skylights so hard that I briefly wondered, as I always do, if the glass will hold against the water. Then I wondered if the gin would hold against the night.
And then we went to bed.
(Spoiler alert. The glass held. The gin? It held too. Until it didn't but by then who needs alcohol escape when I can have figments instead?)
When I woke up Sam and Matt very gently told me they are getting married again. Victoria Day weekend. That it won't be big (first one wasn't) but they waited an entire holiday past what they set for themselves as a marker and they figured out how to navigate me (bring her over, touch her for a while and never say a fucking word about it again, every couple of...months or so) and here we go, boys. Time for another wedding.