EPILOGUE

The food truck shone bright silver under the merciless LA sun. “What A Catch” was painted in a handwritten green script along the side of the truck, the letters nearly reaching the top of Wyatt’s head as he stood in front and critically eyed the setup.

“I still don’t think the menu is big enough. The letters are still hard to read from a medium distance,” Wyatt said, raising his voice so Tony could hear him from inside.

“We sell enough tacos to buy a new chalkboard today, you can have it,” Tony shouted back at him, the rhythmic chopping sound of his knife against the butcher block countertops they’d installed last week nearly drowning out his voice, and the Foo Fighters playing on the Bluetooth speaker.

The Foos were more Tony’s scene than Wyatt’s—he liked his food prep music a little chiller—but in this brand-new joint venture between the brothers, compromise had quickly become one of the most vital ingredients.

Wyatt rolled his eyes even though Tony couldn’t see him. “We’re not selling any tacos today, dipshit.”

Tony popped his head out the back door. His hair had grown out a little in the six months since they’d started rehabbing this truck, but it was still cut close to his skull, and a few more tattoos decorated his forearms. The two most important were also the smallest: a bright pink, yellow, and blue pansexual flag and a tiny, red, split heart. Tony had opened up much more about the former than the latter. He still wouldn’t talk about the first guy to break his heart—the first person to break his heart, if Wyatt was being specific, because Tony had always been the one to do the heart-breaking—but Wyatt hoped he would soon. Tony was clearly hurting, no matter what sort of jovial front he put on.

“That’s right,” Tony snarked right back. “We’re giving them away to your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend’s team,” Wyatt corrected. “And I think catering a charity event of the Los Angeles Dodgers our first time out is a really great achievement.”

“I’ll say this,” Tony said casually, and Wyatt almost missed the hint of pride in his voice, “you don’t like to start small.”

Wyatt didn’t have to ask who Tony was proud of. It was definitely both of them. Probably because they’d managed to do it together, without killing each other. A real achievement that had never been a sure thing, and had been touch-and-go more than once.

The truth was, Wyatt didn’t like taking charity from Ryan. They’d begun their relationship—the fake one at least—with inequality, and Wyatt had spent the last eight months trying to figure out the right balance between them.

“He offered to pay for them,” Wyatt pointed out. He had, and Wyatt had turned him down flat. Ryan had already done enough getting them the gig and an opportunity to iron out the kinks that went with opening a restaurant, even if it was on wheels.

Especially if it was on wheels.

“Where is he, anyway? I thought he was getting here early to help us set up?”

“I think he had a last-minute meeting come up,” Wyatt said. “I’ll come in and help you finish prep. It’s not like he could’ve helped with that anyway.”

Wyatt followed Tony into the small cabin of the food truck. It was a tight fit with the two of them, but at least he didn’t have to stoop. He’d paid a lot more than he should have to get the roof raised just enough that neither of them had to stoop.

They fell into their regular rhythm which until eight months ago, Wyatt never would have guessed even existed. He’d believed he and Tony were so different for so long that figuring they were more alike than he’d ever imagined had turned his world topsy-turvy.

As soon as he’d regained his equilibrium, he’d realized just how much he liked his brother.

Ryan had looked very smug when Wyatt had admitted this one night.

“I knew you would. Or that you did? I’m not sure which is right,” Ryan admitted. “Sometimes it takes a shakeup to see what’s right in front of you.”

“A shakeup in the form of a wrecked Maserati?” Wyatt had teased.

Ryan hit him hard in the shoulder. It stung, offsetting the pleasurable afterglow from the sex they’d just had.

“I told you that wasn’t going to get old,” Wyatt teased again.

“I thought real dating would mean more sappy, cheesy fluff, and less tormenting me,” Ryan said mournfully.

“But the tormenting is so fun,” Wyatt said with a chuckle.

Wyatt could still feel the warmth of Ryan’s smile as he’d gazed lovingly at him, even months later.

“Hey, you sappy idiot,” Tony called over, “did you get the pulled pork on to heat?”

Wyatt awkwardly pointed an elbow at where the big hotel pans were warming in a water bath. “I might be sappy but I’m not an idiot,” he retorted.

“You and Ryan disgust me,” Tony said, shaking his head. “You were just thinking about him, I could tell you were. You get this incredibly fond look on your face, like you’re staring at him and he’s not even fucking there.”

“I spend a lot of time imagining his face instead of actually seeing it,” Wyatt argued.

“Even the long distance hasn’t dimmed your honeymoon period.” Tony lifted up a big cardboard box of butter lettuce and with a few efficient movements began breaking each head into individual leaves.

“And it’s not going to,” Wyatt said. “Not even now that Ryan’s signed his new contract and he’s going to be playing for the Dodgers for years to come.”

Wyatt wanted to tell his brother he was just jealous, but he didn’t because he was and that was the whole problem. Not of Ryan, specifically, but of the forever happiness that Wyatt had found with him.

Frankly they were so blissfully in love, it was a miracle the world wasn’t jealous. Instead, the world ate it up with a spoon. Without even trying, Wyatt had somehow become the chef in LA to follow on Instagram, and when he’d worn Ryan’s jersey to Opening Day, the picture had gone viral.

It would have been so easy to lose their way with all the publicity and the attention, and with the shaky beginning of their relationship, Wyatt should have been more worried. But Ryan had never once given him cause to worry.

For someone who’d claimed he didn’t want a relationship because all relationships became boring eventually, Ryan had fully and completely embraced their coupledom.

And when, late one night while binge-watching a show on Netflix, Ryan had leaned over and said, “I think I’m bored now,” Wyatt had never been happier.

It was the only time since the accident that he’d ever brought it up, and the last time too.

“Hey, you guys in there?”

Wyatt turned around, and Ryan had just pulled up next to the food truck, driving a white Range Rover. He’d stuck his head out the open window, and Wyatt put down the knife and emerged just as he climbed out.

“You’re late,” Tony grumped, though his tone didn’t have any heat in it.

“I know, but I was running an important errand. Picking someone up from the airport, actually,” Ryan said, going to the passenger door and opening it. To Wyatt’s shock, the snowy-white hair of his nana emerged, shining in the sun.

“You brought Nana,” Wyatt said, dumbfounded.

Ryan’s smile was warm as he carefully helped Bea out of the back of the SUV. “I did. She deserved to be here, to watch her boys open their brand-new food truck.”

“Wyatt,” Bea exclaimed, walking towards the truck and intercepting Tony, giving him a hug, “it looks even better than the pictures. And, Tony, I’m so proud of you.”

Wyatt climbed down, and wrapped her in a long hug after his brother released her. “I’m so glad you came,” he whispered into her shoulder, glancing up to see Ryan staring at them, a soft look in his dark eyes. “Ryan always has the best surprises.”

“That’s because he’s lovely, darling,” Nana whispered to him. “You marry that boy, you hear me?”

Wyatt surreptitiously wiped the moisture out of his eyes before Tony could see and make fun of him. “I’m sure going to try.”

“It’s beautiful, hijo. You didn’t tell me how shiny it is.” Wyatt finally let go of Bea, and met Titi Flor’s loving stare.

“Wyatt, you have much to be proud of,” she said, reaching him and wrapping him in a big, warm hug.

Wyatt’s gaze locked with Ryan’s. He looked only a little embarrassed. “I figured it would be good for Nana to have someone to look after her,” he said, “and Flor wasn’t going to be left at home today.”

“You should all be here today,” Wyatt said, throat suddenly tight with emotion. “Tony and I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could have,” Ryan said, his voice a vow, “but we’re happy we could be here to share it with you.”

Flor led Bea off to one of the decorated picnic tables, chattering the whole way, the older lady smiling and offering her own opinion right back.

“Those two could run the world if they set their mind to it,” Ryan said fondly, as Wyatt wrapped an arm around his waist.

“It was a great surprise,” Wyatt said seriously, “thank you for making sure she was here.”

“You want to make the most of the time you have left with her, and whatever you want is what I want,” Ryan said, reaching over to cup Wyatt’s cheek in his palm. “I love you.”

It wasn’t the right time, or the right place, or like anything that Wyatt had started vaguely planning in his head. But suddenly the thought was there, stark and bright and so right it overpowered everything else.

“Marry me,” Wyatt choked out. Ryan’s eyes grew wide. “Not today, not now. Just someday. Promise me, we’ll do it before she can’t remember.”

Wyatt remembered all too well those dark times before he’d met Ryan when he’d been determined that the last memory his nana had of him would be a lie. Now he wanted to shine as much light and beauty and truth onto her last days as he could.

And what was lighter or more beautiful or more full of honesty than a wedding?

“Damn you,” Ryan laughed, the love in his eyes swamping Wyatt, “just had to steal my thunder.”

“You were going to propose?” They hadn’t even talked about it, but Wyatt couldn’t say he was surprised. Ryan, once he had figured out that Wyatt was what he wanted, had been the best boyfriend. Not a perfect one, but he’d kept his promise and was a real one.

“Someday,” Ryan said with a bright grin.

“I think that’s a yes,” Wyatt said, pulling him in even tighter.

His only answer was to put his hand in Wyatt’s, and kiss him hot and fierce—for forever.