Wyatt chuckles, and for a moment I think he might turn me down, which would just be the icing on the whole cake of today. But when Wyatt turns to me, he’s still smiling.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” he says. “But it’s only one o’clock right now.”

“Okay, what do you want to do until tonight?”

“Well, you promised me that you’d show me around your city.”

“Pfft, my city.”

“You know it better than I do.”

I smile at him, and he smiles right back. “Fine.”

I hold out my hand, and when he takes it, we hoist each other up.

If he wants to see my city, then I’ll show him my city.

“Let’s go.”

*  *  *

I want to take him to the observatory, to the Getty, to the Science Center. There are all-ages queer bars and clubs that I bet he’d kill to see, and even some twenty-one-and-over places I could probably still get into, but it’s too early for any of them to be open. There’s the boardwalk, and so many amazing hiking trails with killer views. I want to take him to so many restaurants like In-N-Out or Bob’s Big Boy. Hell, I’d even settle for getting dropped off in a random neighborhood and just showing him some of the cool houses.

But we’ll have more time for all of that in the days after the wedding.

So the question becomes: What do I show him first?

Everything we pass seems antithetical to where I want to start with Wyatt. The high-end stores and boutiques, the classy eating joints where you pay three times as much for a quarter of the food you could get anywhere else.

We keep walking, and I’m looking around, desperate. A stupid landmark would do, but there’s nothing around that seems interesting enough, or that I know enough about.

I’m scared to look at Wyatt for how pissed he might still be at me, probably thinking that he shouldn’t have come along with me.

Except when I do look at him, he doesn’t look angry at all.

There’s a slight smile, not that goofy grin he usually has or anything like that, but there’s a smirk, and he’s looking around at all the buildings, the signs, the restaurants and bars, the trees and the birds on the sidewalk.

He doesn’t seem to be having a bad time at all.

“I have an idea,” I say.

“Age before beauty.” He motions for me to lead him, and I ignore the jab.

It’s just up the block, but the closer we stretch toward the afternoon, the hotter the sun is getting, so I can feel the sweat down my back and under my armpits. It makes me feel gross, and I’m definitely going to have to take another shower back at the hotel room. But I’ve finally got something to show Wyatt, and I don’t want to give up this chance. He might hate me, but I don’t want him to hate Los Angeles.