Page 71 of Bless This Hot Mess
Against all odds…
We’re not hiding anymore.”
Ronald’s thumb brushed gently across Carrington’s hand.
“Against all odds…
You’re everything I’m living for.”
Carrington shook their head slightly, smiling into the space between them.
“Careful,” they murmured. “You’re getting poetic on me.”
Ronald huffed a laugh, “All your fault.”
“Against all odds…
That’s all that matters now.”
Carrington squeezed his hand once more.
“Against all odds…
You are everything.
You are all the things.
Against all odds,
I’m falling in love…
So in love…
With you.”
And this time, neither of them tried to pretend it wasn’t happening.
LISTEN to Against All Odds (Carrington & Ronald Duet)
Some first dates end with a handshake, a kiss, or a ghosted text. Others sail off into the sunset on a backyard boat.
Ronald’s backyard had the modest ambition of a small miracle. Sunlight poured over the fence like warm honey; birds fretted in the maple branches; the grass, patchy in places and zealously green in others, smelled faintly of hose water and clover. At the centre of it all was docked a half-built boat, ribbed and resolute, perched on sawhorses and optimism. It was the size of a van and the shape of a pretty good idea.
The latch on the side gate clicked; the hinges protested with a friendly squeal. Ronald nudged the gate open with his hip and swept a hand toward the wooden wonder.
Carrington stepped in and stopped cold, sunglasses lifting to get a better look, mouth parting in a small ‘o’. “What?!” they blurted, laughter creeping up behind the surprise. “You really are building an ark?”
“Dream big. Be big,” Ronald said, as if reading from a personal commandments tablet. Then, softer–because even a showman knew when to pitch to romance–he added, “Carrington, will you do me the honour of being the first human to share a sunset sail on the bow of my boat?”
“Um… YES!” Carrington agreed, feeling all the feels flicker up and down their spine.
“May I give you a hand?” Ronald asked. “Okay, watch your step…thatboard is loose. I have some work to do before she’s sea-worthy.”
Carrington ran a palm over the sanded two-by-four rail, admiring the neat arcs of the ribs and the confident joints in the frame. “Ronald, this ark isbeautiful!”
“Have a seat here,” he said, ushering them toward a sturdy plank. From a cooler nested beneath the thwart, he produced a small bottle whose foil already looked nervous. With a twistand a pop, the cork leapt like a startled bird, and the sparkling wine answered with a hiss and a smile. He poured into mismatched flutes.
Carrington raised their glass, amused, “My, my, my!”
