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The map bleeds like an open wound—red seeps in a sickening spill.
Henry clutches his glass in his hand. The ice has long melted, watering down the gin. His stomach is in knots. He can’t bring himself to swallow.
Henry glances out of the corner of his eye at his husband. Alex is pacing, prowling and grumbling like a caged lion. “Georgia, Michigan, Nevada, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin.…” he mutters like a prayer. Or a curse. He’s scowling out the opaque windows.
Henry shivers. In the morning, these floor-to-ceiling windows make him feel so free—a world without walls where they can breathe freely, where they can live . Tonight it just feels…exposed. Gingerly, he sets down his glass on the coffee table and moves to pull down the blinds.
“Georgia, Michigan” Alex rasps, worrying the words like beads on la rosaria . “Nevada, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin.…”
Henry closes his eyes. The weight of months of worry presses down between his shoulders. Together, they’d tried to shoulder the burden. They’d helped each other carry the load with bold laughter in the daylight— “Pip could always find us a spare room in his absurdly large house” —and whispered fears in the dark— “What if my mom was a fluke? What if we never do it again?”
Hery draws in a quiet, shaky breath. Georgia, He silently pleads. Michigan. Nevada. North Carolina. Pennsylvania. Wisconsin—
Henry’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He looks up, but Alex doesn’t break stride. Henry surreptitiously slides out his phone and glances at the screen to find a text from Nora.
we expected this
Three dots bounce. Then,
early red wave happens all the time. could still be ok.
He can practically hear Alex’s Numbers on that?
Instead, Henry types, Thank you.
A beat. Then—
Take care of him.
“Florida,” Alex snarls.
Henry wheels around, heart sinking. Up wells the nation’s heartblood from another vein.
“Backyard shooting range motherfuckers,” he mutters.
“Huh?” Alex grunts.
“You know, what Zahra—” Henry pauses. He takes in his too-still, too-quiet husband.
Alex Claremont-Diaz is a sunburst, a riot of color and motion. But now…
Now he’s frozen, washed pale in the glaring light of the tv screen. He stares as though transfixed. His face is drawn, lines of pain cracking his stoic facade.
Henry’s heart throbs like a bruise. He wishes there were something, anything he could do to make this better. But he doesn’t have Nora’s numbers, or Pez’s bravado. June’s steadiness or Bea’s boldness.
All he has are words. Empty, useless words that hold no comfort and bear no weight.
“Alex,” Henry murmurs. His prayer. His strength. His love. “Alex.”
Alex stirs.
Henry steps towards his husband. “Alex,” he says.
Alex stares blankly at the screen. His shoulders slump. But his fingers twitch. It’s small, a timid question. Henry reaches out instinctively to catch his hand in answer. Call and response. Because—
“We’ll still be here tomorrow,” Henry murmurs.
Alex turns. His dark eyes are dull, a cold hearth, but Henry swears he can see a tiny, fragile spark in them. He presses Alex’s fingers, runs his fingers over the wedding band. The metal is warm with the very heat of his husband’s irrepressible spirit. It’s still there—banked, not doused. Henry tends the spark, coaxes back the flame. “We’ll still be here tomorrow,” he promises. “And I will try to make you pancakes. They will be awful, and I’ll get the eggshells everywhere.” A smile tugs at the corner of Alex’s mouth.
“You’ll take over,” Henry assures him. “Which we both know is for the best. I’ll put on the Billy Joel record. We’ll have mimosas because it’s brunch, and that’s law,” he adds in his best authoritative royal manner. The smile tugs at the other corner of Alex’s mouth. “We’ll call Nora,” Henry decides. “You’ll find a way to pick a silly battle with her that will keep you both busy for an hour while I have my tea. And when you’re done with that, we can watch the Empire Strikes Back . We’ll bicker. We’ll laugh. We’ll spend the whole day in each other’s arms. And we will love each other. Today and tomorrow and every day after.”
Henry tugs his husband closer, pulling Alex into his chest. “We will be here. And we will love each other.”
He feels as much as hears Alex warble, “You and me.”
Henry smiles and presses a kiss to his ravaged curls. “You and me.” We will still be here tomorrow, and that’s not nothing. He feels Alex’s arms wrap him closer, hold him tighter, and knows, It’s everything.