“The only thing missing from our relationship is a wedding and the next sixty-something years of our lives together,” Hennessy said, going down on one knee. “Jordan,

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle.

Why not I with thine?

“Marry me. Say you’ll spend your life with me.”

I put my hand to my mouth and burst into tears as everything clicked into place. The slideshow, everyone arriving early and taking their seats. And then he quoted my all-time-favourite poem. “You planned this? The PowerPoint presentation?” I sobbed, snot and all. “And I didn’t use your toothbrush, I promise, but I do make good coffee, that’s true, and I buy that bread because it’s your favourite. But you’re the light in my dark, and you’re my missing puzzle piece too. When everything was out of place and upside down, you made everything right. Nothing really made sense until you.”

He laughed. “Is that a yes?”

I nodded. “Of course it’s a yes. Holy motherfucking shit, Hennessy,” I sobbed. “You quoted Percy Shelley. Of course it’s a yes.”

Hennessy crushed me in a hug and everyone cheered and clapped around us. I cried into his neck. This man, this perfect, sweet, sweet man wanted to marry me. He pulled me back, wiped my tears, and planted a kiss on my lips. “You just made me the happiest man on the planet.” He took the small book, which looked just like the real thing only a little smaller, turned out to be a ring box. “I had this made, just for you.”

“If you had sacrificed a real book, I would have said no.”

Hennessy laughed, but we both knew it was true.

He took the ring out. A wide black band with a brushed finish and a narrow polished finished edge. It was…

“It’s black to symbolise asexuality and how we met. And it’s titanium, because it’s one of the strongest things on earth.” He slid it onto my finger and the weight of it was new and somehow grounding.

“It’s perfect,” I mumbled through more tears.

We were then, in turn, separately hugged by everyone, and by the time my tears had stopped, I’d made my way back to Hennessy. And after a while, the only people left were our dearest friends.

Angus put his hands on my shoulders. “There once was a guy called Jay.”

We all chuckled because Angus’ limericks were a classic.

“Who was the best friend a guy could ask for.

He deserves to be happy,

and he found that with Hennessy.

So I don’t feel so bad about moving out.”

I laughed because it didn’t rhyme, but then what he actually said made sense. “You what?”

“I’m moving out,” he said quietly, but he glanced to Michael and Vee and smiled. “I’ve put it off long enough.”