Stubborn Heart (28 page)

Authors: Ken Murphy

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Trevor complained. He searched Mark’s eyes, trying to figure out what he was saying.

Mark slid forward until he rested one palm flat against Trevor’s chest. He closed his eyes and smiled as he felt the thumping of Trevor’s heart. His throat constricted as he thought just how close he had come to never feeling that precious heartbeat again. He opened his eyes and looked at Trevor again.

“Of course it does.” Mark gave Trevor’s chest a little squeeze and tapped a finger over Trevor’s heart. “This is the only place I will ever be at home.”

“What are you telling me?” Trevor asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Mark smiled. “I’m
asking
you to take me with you to Boston.”

Epilogue

“H
APPY
anniversary, Trev.” Mark smiled and raised his coffee mug in toast. He and Trevor had just finished brunch in a busy little café Mark had discovered a few weeks earlier. He had asked for a table near a window so they could watch as people walked by.

“What are you talking about?” Trevor frowned, raising one eyebrow.

“Four weeks ago today, you finally moved up here.”

Trevor grinned. “I can’t believe it has been a whole month. I haven’t even finished unpacking boxes yet.”

“Yeah, about those boxes….” Mark scowled, pretending to look angry.

“Hey!” Trevor threw up both hands. “At least I have them all stacked neatly in the guest room.”

“It would be nice to be able to get our place in order,” Mark fussed. Then he grinned playfully.

Trevor laughed. “I promise to take care of them this week.”

Mark had been the first one to move to Boston. The original plan had been that he and Trevor would relocate to Boston after Trevor completed his training program. But it didn’t work out that way. Mark sent résumés to a few headhunters and was surprised at how fast and how many responses he had received. He interviewed with several potential employers before accepting a position as the clinical manager for an outpatient surgical center. The director of the surgical center had insisted that Mark start in May. Mark had initially declined the offer because he didn’t want to relocate so quickly. But he had changed his mind when the director offered him a substantially higher starting salary. He had leased out his condo and moved to Boston in May.

Trevor had been required to fulfill the terms of his fellowship, so he had remained in Atlanta through the end of June. Much of the almost two-month separation had been spent on text messages and phone calls. They had managed to spend almost every other weekend together, alternating between Atlanta and Boston. During Trevor’s trips to Boston, he and Mark had spent a great deal of time shopping to furnish their small apartment. Mark had insisted they decorate their new home together, and Trevor had been happy to help.

Since Trevor had moved to Boston, they had spent every moment together they could. There were times when Trevor worked late; sometimes he didn’t even make it home at all. Fortunately, all-night surgeries didn’t happen very often. And on the nights that Trevor didn’t make it home, Mark missed their lovemaking. But that was what Sunday afternoons were for: making up for lost time. And that was exactly what was on Mark’s mind as he pushed his chair away from the table.

“Wait, there’s one more thing before we go,” Trevor said. His eyes were round, like big pools of chocolate. He had a smile on his face, but he looked a little nervous.

“What is it?” Mark smiled curiously as he looked over at Trevor. Their bill had been paid and most of the dishes had been cleared away.

Trevor slid from his chair onto one knee and clasped Mark’s hand with both of his own. “Will you marry me?” he asked softly.

Mark leaped to his feet. He almost pulled his hand free, but Trevor held it tightly. “What are you doing?” he asked. He felt the color rise in his face.

“I asked you to marry me,” Trevor repeated, his gaze never leaving Mark’s.

“Trevor,” Mark hissed through clenched teeth. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Then maybe you should answer his question, dear.”

Mark turned and regarded the woman sitting at the next table who had just made that remark. She must have been in her eighties. She looked at Mark, a soft smile on her face. He burst into laughter, realizing how foolishly he was behaving. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he turned back to look at Trevor. “Yes, you crazy, wonderful man. I would love nothing more than to marry you.”

About the Author

K
EN
M
URPHY
is a Georgia native who boasts that the first thing he ever had in his name was a library card. He credits his mother and her never-ending encouragement as the seed that started his lifelong passion for the printed word. He is a hopeless romantic who loves nothing better than a good happily ever after.

Ken currently lives in Grant Park, an historic district in Atlanta, the ninth gayest city in the America. He and his partner, Andy, are the custodians for the house where Lucy, their slightly neurotic Dalmatian, lives. When not reading or writing, Ken is usually either in the kitchen cooking something Southern or Asian or in the gym working off the calories.

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