Vanya shoos away children after closing the door behind him. Then he leans on it until his heart rate slows and settles. Anna answers his knock on a door across the hallway. There’s no time to replay what just happened or to try to unpick Jason’s reactions. He’ll have to wait to find out if he wants to listen. Right now, Chantel’s needs are more pressing.

Her hands shake as she lifts the veil like nerves overwhelm her.

Is this how Jason saw him when he just did the same thing? White faced and so fearful?

He hopes not. Not now, when, for the first time in an age, he’s been completely truthful. Scared isn’t what he feels inside today, terror fading the moment asylum was finally granted. He’s just sad at what it took to make it this far and hopeful Jason heard the truth in his final statement.

Chantel’s still pale as Anna settles the veil around her. “Andrew is very lucky man,” Vanya suggests as it covers the hair that falls past her shoulders in red waves. It suits her better this way, he thinks, natural and very pretty instead of tied up tightly. “Luckiest,” he says out loud. “Has prettiest bride in whole building.”

“Vanya!” It’s worth teasing to hear her laughter. “I’m the only bride in the building.”

A voice comes from the doorway. “The only bride who’ll be late to her own wedding if she doesn’t get a pedal on—” Her father stops when she turns, his face a picture of love Vanya sees replayed only a short while later.

Andrew mirrors similar adoration when he turns from the raised platform where the service is conducted. Vanya stands at the back of the room, watching Chantel walk arm-in-arm past children who sing with fluting voices, towards her husband-to-be and his best man.

The children blow kisses as she passes, adding sweetness to a moment he’ll hold onto forever.

He’ll remember how Jason looks beside his best friend as well, tall and broad and smiling. There’s another show of the kindness Vanya knows so well when Jason holds Chantel’s bouquet, while her veil is adjusted, and humour in the way he pretends to want to keep it. When he stands back as the service begins, a familiar smile curling the corner of his lips, Vanya wishes he had one more chance to kiss them before all this is over.

Then Jason catches his eye, and that small smile fades completely.

The service proceeds, Vanya’s sure, just like he’s certain that Anna stands beside him, her hand clutching his at crucial moments, but all he sees is Jason.

His watchful stare gives nothing away as the officiant describes how love brought two souls together. It remains fixed on Vanya as the children sing a Russian song they spent all week long learning. Jason only averts his gaze when he must, handing over rings from an inner pocket of his waistcoat, his gaze meeting Vanya’s again when his best friend promises to love Chantel with everything he has, forever.

There’s a kiss, Vanya thinks, and a rousing cheer that finally distracts him, along with hugs from strangers before the room empties. Wedding guests follow the happy couple outside for drinks and photos, leaving them alone together.

Jason stands with his arms crossed at the top of the raised platform, giving nothing away as he flatly says, “We should talk,” and takes a step forward.

The aisle between them narrows for no good reason, shrinking in slow motion as Vanya’s panic prickles. The urge to flee comes from nowhere, desperate and demanding and so hard to ignore that it hurts. He clutches the back of a chair rather than let it pull him backwards, closing his eyes rather than see the narrow alley where his nightmare started. When he opens them, Jason’s taken another step down from the platform.

“The last thing written on your list,” he asks. “Is it happening right now?”

“Y-yes.”

Jason nods. “I wondered.” He glances at Vanya’s knuckles. “Not sure you could hold onto that chair much tighter.” He takes another step down before stopping. “Now you’re looking a little green.” He backs up, climbing the steps he just descended. “Tell me what to do to make this easier.”

Easier would be turning tail right now, but giving in isn’t an option.

Not now.

Not if he wants to be sure he’s done everything that he can. “I’m come to you.” Vanya unfurls stiff fingers. Once he’s let go of the chair, he faces his fear head on. There’s only a short aisle and four steps up to where Jason waits in silence. “Would be easier,” Vanya finally admits, “if you could talk instead of staring.”

Jason speaks when Vanya clears the first step. “One of the kids here today is the son of my ex.” It’s a thread of conversation Vanya can’t deconstruct at that moment. “Although ‘ex’ isn’t how his dad would describe me. Garry would flat-out deny it, despite being with me for years. We first knew each other at school, but he was never quite ready to come out. Always needed more time. Couldn’t ever see me in public, and certainly would never meet around here. No one was ever allowed to know about us, so he’d come up to London once a month if I was lucky. It went on like that for years.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “Sometimes we broke up for years as well, but he always came back. Then if I mentioned us moving in together, I wouldn’t see him for dust.” His voice is low and soothing even though what he says sounds hurtful.

“Looking back, I was a sucker. He gave me just enough hope to keep me hanging on for the real thing. I didn’t even know that this is what I wanted.” He gestures at the room garlanded with flowers and ribbon. “Then he’d stand me up over and over. He lied to me, and he made a habit of using his phone to do that. He’d text excuses—little lies that didn’t stack up, like saying he was in one place when I saw on Facebook that he wasn’t. And he told big lies too, like saying he was busy with work when really he was busy getting his girlfriend pregnant.” His exhale is resigned. “I haven’t dated anyone seriously since we finally broke up. Six years should be enough time to figure out that not everyone who swings both ways cheats on all their partners. For fuck’s sake, I’ve known Dom for almost as long as Garry. He’s bi as well, but he doesn’t lie to his lovers. I really thought I was over it right up until I saw you from that rooftop.”

He stares up at ancient roof beams that can’t have heard much worse declarations. “I saw you lie to me by text and then cuddle up close with someone you swore was your best friend’s girlfriend.”

“It wasn’t—”

Jason holds a hand up. “I know. It wasn’t what it looked like.” His next huff almost sounds like a laugh. “Believe it or not, I’ve heard that line a few times.” He pauses for a long moment. “Here’s the thing—Garry had no good reason to lie, besides being a complete wanker. But….”

Vanya’s next step brings him close enough that Jason could punch him if he wanted.

He can’t help flinching at that thought, but he makes himself stand still, sure with everything that he’s got that Jason will never hurt him. “But what?” he whispers while his mind wars with his body, his vision narrowing again as his fingers tingle.

“But that folder makes me think that you did. Have a good reason, I mean.” Jason’s gaze is intent and troubled. “I read the rest of your file.”

“And?”

“And I can’t say that I understand all your decisions or when things changed between us—but I need to double check that I understand this part at least. On the last page—the one you wrote just for me—you mentioned not spending a penny of the cash I paid you.”

“Still have,” Vanya blurts. “Will give it all back.” It doesn’t matter how long it takes to save up now he can earn money without lying. Pride surmounts fear for the first time in forever. “Can get real jobs instead of false ones. Already have interviews at supermarket and restaurant. Will afford someplace safe in no time.”

“That’s not the part I wanted to double check.” Jason wraps his hand around one of Vanya’s despite it being clammy. “I read about why you needed a safe place for you and for Anna, but was it true what you wrote next? About how you never expected to—”

“Fall in love?”

“Yeah. That.” Jason’s expression is unreadable. He’s a big man, easily strong enough to break him, but when he asks, “Was that part true?” he sounds fragile.

Vanya nods very slowly.

Guests clink champagne flutes in the next room, and children play chase outside as Jason seeks more confirmation. “And do you still?”

Vanya takes the last step left between them when Jason drops to one knee, not yet done asking questions. “Can you?” Jason asks. “Love me, that is, after what I said?” He bows his head for a moment. “I can’t believe I threatened you with deportation. Not when….” He squares his jaw after re-establishing their eye contact. “Not when I can still remember how good it feels to find a place of safety.”

“Jason—”

“Only I can’t stop thinking about how you looked after I said it… after I said I’d report you to immigration.” His shoulders hunch momentarily before they straighten, as if guilt is an immense weight he’s determined to carry. “I scared you, and I’m so sorry. I would never have gone through with it. I hope you can believe me.”

A voice calls out from the doorway—one of the hotel staff sounding harried. “Is the best man still in here? The wedding party needs him right now for photos.”

“Yes.” Vanya answers. He waits until Jason gets up from his kneeling position. “Yes,” he says again, this time speaking directly to him. It’s a one-word answer to Jason’s question, promising both forgiveness and a fresh start.

“Yes?” Jason’s smile emerges—small at first before widening in a way Vanya so wants to get used to. “You do?”

His answer is simple.

Vanya says, “I do,” to his best man in Britain, and means it with his whole heart.