Note: The art in this chapter was made by me.
February fourth, 2018 fell on a Sunday that year, which was convenient for celebrating my thirty-eighth birthday; we could close the shop and not worry about losing too much business, being it was also Super Bowl weekend, which neither of us cared about but would keep customers at home. I always managed my expectations of not doing a huge thing for my birthday since the weather was shite, but Sören and I went to Craig Beach to build snowmen on the beach and admire the icy ocean, and then Sören took me to the local animal shelter so we could get a friend for Snúður, who was home alone all day while we were in the shop and it made us feel guilty.
We ended up getting two friends for Snúður, a grey male ticked tabby and a female brown tabby senior cat. The grey one climbed on my shoulders and the brown one grabbed Sören's wrist with her paws and gently nommed his hand with her four teeth. We melted.
The brown tabby's official name was Miss Chocolate Salty Balls, which made us die laughing, and on the way home we tried to think of a way to shorten it. We stopped at the McDonald's drive-thru on the way home - I didn't care that wasn't "special" on my birthday, I wanted bloody McDonald's - and as Sören slurped on a milkshake, he pondered, "I don't think we should call her Chocolate." He side-eyed his cup.
"OK."
"Maybe Miss Balls."
I shook my head, laughing. "Sören, what are we going to tell the vet? 'This is our cat, Miss Balls.' They're going to think we're weirdo freaks."
"I mean, we are. But all right."
Even though I had a rule about not eating in the Prius, the smell of the fries still made me reach in the bag and take a handful. Not caring about dignity, I asked "What about Salty?" through a mouthful of fries.
"Solly? OK."
I fought back the reflex to tell him I'd said Salty, not Solly... because Solly was a better name. At the very least, it was less ridiculous than Chocolate Salty Balls.
We got home just in time for it to start snowing. Sören took the new cats into the spare bedroom to rub them with a blanket that Snúður liked to cuddle with, which got his scent all over it and would make them smell like him and better acclimate Snúður to them - in theory. Then the cats began exploring, Sören and I finished our food, I made hot cocoa and we snuggled up together in a blanket heap, with the cats sharing the top blanket, watching Doctor Who on DVD. It was cosy and peaceful with the snow falling outside and our little family, safe and warm inside.
Three cats was a big long-term commitment, but Sören and I had no major relationship obstacles thus far, we got along, we didn't cramp each other's style living together. Things were stable enough that I had two presents to give him, later, which would further cement that I was in this all the way, I wanted to build a life with him.
When it was time to start winding down and getting ready for bed, we showered and then Sören gave me a package wrapped in sparkly blue paper with a holographic silver-rainbow ribbon. I carefully cut the paper and ribbon while Sören rolled his eyes, giggling, and I took out a lopapeysa - forest green, with a leaf pattern in muted shades of lighter green, cream and gold. With the jumper was a canvas, a "secret project" he'd been working on since after Christmas - he used the spare bedroom as an art studio. It was a forested fjord with a lake and colourful, vibrant wildflowers underneath a surreal sky with starrise at sunset.
"Oh love, this is so beautiful." I got choked up. "And I love the jumper." I stroked the soft wool. "This must have cost a fortune." I knew that the handmade jumpers went for a few hundred quid easily.
"You're worth it." Sören hugged me. "I thought the lopapeysa would bring out your eyes, and you... you feel like forests, and gardens, to me, why I wanted that pattern. Also the painting. It's... like if your soul was a landscape -"
I kissed him breathless, touched and honoured by his words. I loved him so much it hurt.
"I have something for you too," I said.
"Is it spankings? Or your strap?"
I threw my head back and laughed. I booped Sören's nose. "You're incorrigible."
"Takk."
I cleared my throat and got up to where I kept a small safe of important documents. There were two small boxes inside, things I'd gotten last month in preparation of this day. Now it was time. My heart hammered in my chest as I walked back to sit beside my beloved.
The first was a leather collar set with a steel O-ring. In BDSM culture, this was something an owned submissive wore, a tangible sign of belonging.
Sören accepted the collar, kneeling before me. After I put it on his neck, he bowed his head reverently. I felt that fierce, tight ache in my chest. "You're my good boy, Sören." I took his chin in my hand, tilted his head up, and looked him in the eye, then tenderly touched his cheek. The smile that Sören gave me made me fall in love with him all over again.
When Sören sat next to me on the bed, I said, "Now it's time for me to get on my knees."
"Ooh, are you gonna eat me out, Daddy?"
"Soon," I cackled. I heaved a sigh of mock exasperation. "I'm continually amazed by your one-track mind."
Sören smirked and I facepalmed, knowing I had walked into it. "Hi Continually Amazed By Your One-Track Mind, I'm -"
I tweaked his nose before I got down on my knees in front of him, then I opened the second, smaller box.
I couldn't afford diamonds, and we both had ethical issues about the diamond industry anyway. And Sören needed, deserved something different - something uniquely him, a one-of-a-kind piece of wearable art. Sören collected rocks and had told me labradorite was his favourite stone because it reminded him of auroras... and auroras reminded me of Sören, a fire burning bright in the darkness. I had asked the jeweller for an emerald cut labradorite in a white gold Celtic knotwork band, and I held it out to Sören now.
"Will you marry me?" I asked.
Sören nodded, tearing up. I slipped the ring on his finger, Sören threw his arms around me, and pulled me into a passionate kiss. "Yes," he husked. "Yes, Anthony, I will be your husband."
While I hadn't worried a huge deal that he would say no, considering things had gone so well thus far and the cats required a long-term commitment, I still felt a flood of relief... and giddy excitement. We hugged each other tight, rocking and kissing.
"Just one thing, though." Sören gave me a look. "I'm not taking your bloody surname."
I cracked up laughing - I didn't know why I found this hilarious, but it hit my funny bone just the right way.
Then I got him back. "Hi Not Taking Your Bloody Surname, I'm -"
Sören tackled me and started tickling me. I grabbed his face and kissed him, and when he was too distracted by the kiss to keep tickling me, I reached down and tickled him back. We rolled around on the bed, tickling and play-fighting like a couple of kittens, until we were grinding through our pyjama bottoms, then undressed each other. As the snow fell outside, we kept plenty warm, making sweaty, passionate love for hours.
chapter 24 | return to A Place Called Home | return to Original Works | return to index