Date: Sun, 26 Aug 2018 21:10:14 -0700
From: christopher <breakingthroughstory@gmail.com>
Subject: Breaking Through 30

A very big thank you to all of the readers who have taken the time to send
kind messages for the story. I very much appreciate it. Please send any
feedback, complaints, and correspondence to breakingthroughstory@gmail.com.

The usual disclaimers apply. This is fiction.  Please donate to
Nifty. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html.

This is the last chapter in this impromptu revival of the Breaking Through
series. I don't plan on ending the story for good, but updates moving
forward will probably be more sporadic and more like standalone stories
than a long, continuous narrative. Thanks again to everyone who wrote in, I
hope that the ride was worth it.

Chapter 30

"Being nominated is an honor," Chris said. "Being nominated more than once
is a really big deal."

"It's easy to say when you've already got one," Armie said as he flipped on
the lamp on his nightstand. "And just about every other award next to it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chris said, wrapping his arms
around Armie's waist. "They don't matter, Armie." His voice was quiet and
confident.

Armie's hand ran up Chris' back, his fingers stroking his hair. He told
himself over and over that it didn't matter. But even with all of that, it
would be nice to win. Chris knew. Armie knew that Chris knew just how bad
he wanted it, even though he'd never say it out loud. Chris' hands deftly
untied Armie's bow tie, popped the top button of his shirt, and carefully
undid the studs down the front. Sitting through an award show wasn't his
favorite way to spend a night, but undressing Armie after one was something
he'd never get sick of.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Armie said.

"I stay humble," Chris said, nuzzling at Armie's neck. "I have a husband
that keeps me from getting a big head."

"I'm going to take a shower," Armie said, letting out a low sigh. "I'm
sorry. I just...it's...I don't know."

Chris grabbed at Armie's hand as he turned on his heels. "It's not a big
deal, Armie. It's out of our hands."

Armie gave his hand a squeeze and offered a weak smile. "I know that, but I
still don't feel great about it." He paused for just a second, catching
Chris' gaze with his own. "I'll be quick."

Chris set his Kindle down when he saw Armie emerge from the bathroom. His
underwear sat low on his hips and he ran his fingers through his hair one
more time before taking the slow walk to his side of the bed. The dim, warm
light of Chris' lamp cast a golden glow on his every move. Chris was
sitting up against the headboard, but let himself slide down just a little
when he felt the bed dip. "Feel better?"

"I'm fine," Armie said, sliding into bed. He settled in, resting his head
in Chris' lap. Chris stroked Armie's hair slowly and gently, hoping the
momentary lapse in self-confidence would pass. It did every other time, so
there was no reason this time would be any different.

"You're allowed to be disappointed," Chris said, his voice quiet. "But
you're not allowed to let this sort of thing get you down."

"I want the respect that comes with it. That's all."

"You're respected," Chris said. "You know that."

"Sometimes I know that," Armie said, finally feeling himself
relax. "Sometimes I'm just another face in the crowd. Are you tired?"

"Very."

"It's a lot of disappointment to take in."

"It's out of our hands," Chris said. "All of it."

Armie didn't say anything. Just maneuvered their bodies so that they were
underneath the sheets and pressed together, as much skin touching as
possible. Chris reached out to turn off the light, feeling Armie's lips on
the back of his neck. "I love you," Armie said, his voice barely above a
whisper.

Chris brought his coffee up to the office the next morning, taking the
opportunity to catch up on correspondence during the downtime that always
came after the Oscars. Before he even got a chance to settle in at his
desk, Armie appeared at the door. "Good morning."

"How's your head?"

"I'm fine," Armie said. "I didn't have that much Champagne."

"Let me see it one more time."

"No," Chris said, scrolling through his email. "You have it in your email,
too."

"Why do you think they said no?"

"I have no idea. Everything seemed right." Chris finally looked up at
Armie, their eyes meeting in shared confusion. "I'm sorry it happened, but
we tried."

Armie ran his hands over his face and made his way to the loveseat. He
fixed his eyes out the window and let out a long breath. "Two divorces
between us. That's probably what did it."

"Don't dwell on it. Please. And I don't think the divorces had anything to
do with it."

"I've got a lot of free time to think and dwell."

Chris pulled up the email one more time. He'd read it over and over, but
one more time might be just the thing to get it out of his system. It
couldn't have come at a worse time, either. Chris' book was set to be
released--David always did his best to time it to coincide with the Academy
Awards for maximum publicity--and there was the possibility that Armie
would come home with a trophy. But the Friday before, just as they were
finalizing which tuxedo Armie would wear and Chris was signing books in the
dining room, they got the bad news. The adoption agency that they'd been
working with informed them that they wouldn't be getting a baby after
all. They'd gone to all the interviews, gotten all of the letters of
recommendation, and proved that they had more than enough to take care of
an infant. Armie had been elated when they were told there was a match, a
girl who wasn't ready to be a mom and wanted to give her baby to a couple
that was.

Chris wasn't sure that he was ready, but Armie's enthusiasm was
contagious. They hadn't gone so far as to buy baby things or to tell
anyone--save Sebastian, who was always over at the house--but it was still
a shock to have their expectations shattered. Armie was heartbroken. Chris
knew it even though he didn't say a word. The buzzy excitement of the
Oscars seemed to be a dull distraction now. There was no reason why. The
girl had just decided that she was going to keep the baby, after all. There
was nothing they could do about it and the adoption agency said that they'd
keep looking.

"I chose the name Emerson," Armie said quietly.

"You weren't supposed to think about things like that already," Chris said.

"I couldn't help it."

"Ralph Waldo Emerson?"

"Maybe. I just liked the sound of it."

Chris had steeled himself for something like this. He read about the false
hope. He knew that things didn't always work out the way parents wanted. He
didn't look at it as being pessimistic. He was being realistic. What were
the odds that their very first lead would work out? But before they'd even
gotten started, way back when Armie was trying to convince him that maybe
he should just think about it, Chris didn't know if he could do it. But for
Armie, he did. For Armie, he'd try anything. Once. He'd try anything
once. But it seemed unfair to toss that ultimatum into this process.

"Did you have a good run?" Armie asked, pulling Chris out of his head.

"Yeah. Seb and I did a few miles."

"It feels weird, doesn't it?" Armie said, mostly to himself. "But...life
goes on. It's all we can do."

Relief washed through Chris' body. Armie had a way of dwelling on things,
so knowing that he was ready to put this hiccup behind him was a good
sign. "Do you want another coffee?" Armie asked.

"I'd love one," Chris said.

Armie walked over to give him a kiss on the forehead. "You left this on
your night table," he said, gently setting Chris' wedding band down next to
his laptop. He picked up Chris' empty coffee mug and was gone without
another word.

Downstairs, Armie opened all of the curtains, flooding the living room and
kitchen with the morning light. He set some water to boil and opened a few
of the doors, letting fresh air in along with the sunshine. Even though he
felt like the world was crumbling around him, it was clear that things were
just fine. He appreciated the reminder.

Armie went through the motions of making coffee, his eyes not even focusing
on the task at hand. He'd done it a million times, would do it a million
more times. He felt Chris before he heard or saw him. Arms coming around
his waist, a soft kiss on his shoulder blade. "Things are going to be
okay," Chris said.

"You're saying everything except for 'we can keep trying.'"

Chris hugged him a little tighter. "Because I don't know if I can. I had a
panic attack when you brought it up."

"Well...yeah," Armie said. "I get it. Sort of."

"We've got time to figure things out," Chris said. "We can think about
trying again."

"I'll take it."

Just a month ago, right as prep for the Oscars was starting to ramp up,
Armie came into the office, a smug grin on his face. He'd taken the
initiative and contacted an adoption agency. Chris could see the excitement
on his face, but saw it quickly melt away when he felt his own breathing
jump. He felt the color drain from his face, the familiar and unwelcome
pressure in his chest as he struggled to breathe.

"Are you okay?" Armie said, panic painting his features. He rushed over,
but was unsure what to do when he ended up standing behind Chris.

Chris' eyes were wide, his knuckles white as he gripped at the edge of his
desk. The more he tried to calm down, the worse it got, the shallower his
breathing. He grabbed onto Armie's forearm and pulled himself up,
scrambling to open the window and let in some air.

"Chris, what's going on?"

He couldn't talk. All he could do was fall to his knees, his face in his
hand as he doubled over. "I'm okay," Chris said, finally looking up at
Armie.

"You're not okay," Armie said, rubbing Chris' back.

"I'm okay," Chris insisted, finally gaining his bearings. "I don't know
what happened."

"That wasn't the reaction I was hoping for," Armie said.

"We can't have a baby. What if we die?"

"What if we what?"

"We travel a lot. Planes crash. Cars crash. I don't know. The world doesn't
need another orphan. God, your mom would have to take care of the baby if
we died."

"What are you talking about?"

Chris didn't even know. The words were spilling out of him, unfettered by
common sense and logic. Everything he'd ever thought about when anyone
brought up the idea of kids came to the surface and boiled over. "I sound
crazy."

"You are," Armie said, wrapping an arm around Chris' shoulders. "Do you
think about us dying a lot?"

"Not a lot," Chris said, his voice quiet. "But we could."

"Well, yeah," Armie said. "But we could also survive every car ride and
plane trip."

"I know I sound crazy."

"Don't say that," Armie said.

It took a few days for Chris to process exactly what Armie had done, which
was just about everything. He'd gone out and done all the legwork,
gathering all their information, getting everything sent over to the
agency, making sure that everything went as smoothly as possible. He knew
that he should have said something, he admitted, but once the whole thing
got rolling, he couldn't stop himself. The thought of it still made Chris
nervous, but he went along with it. Everything he read said that it was
fine to be hesitant. There wasn't anything about having panic attacks,
however. Dr. Dao told them to take things slow. Armie didn't always listen.

One false lead. One glimmer of hope. And now, one heartbreaking email. It
was Armie's turn to slam into a wall of emotion. Chris pulled him over to
the sofa, hoping some quiet time together would be enough for the both of
them to just let all the emotions settle. Their bodies came together in a
familiar, practiced tangle. He wasn't sure if it was the adoption or
another award season where he came home empty-handed, but Chris figured
neither of those reasons seemed like something that would be good for
Armie's self-confidence.

"How many books do you have left to sign?"

"A few boxes."

"It's not even lunchtime yet and I'm exhausted."

"I think you're allowed," Chris said, his fingertips tracing along Armie's
knuckles.

"I know you don't think you're ready. But I see you with your nieces. I see
you with other kids. You're great."

He'd heard it before. Armie was convinced of it, but it would take more
than a few babysitting sessions to make Chris more comfortable with the
idea. But he went along with it, thanks in part to some encouragement and
all the enthusiasm Armie could muster. Being between projects always put
him in a weird headspace. Armie had shown time and again that he was
perfect dad material. Chris saw it all the time, not only with Ramona and
Gloria, but with kids on set and even the children they met at the
supermarket. He deserved to be a dad and even though Chris didn't feel the
same way about himself, he wouldn't be the thing standing between Armie and
fatherhood.

"I know things like this take time," Armie said. "I was just hoping we'd be
the exception."

Chris' book signing at the Hammer Museum was an exception, too. If he ever
did a signing, it was always at UCLA, but Dru had insisted. The museum had
his name on it, too, and Chris knew better than to put up any sort of
fight. It would be pretty routine, Chris thought. A reading. A quick
signing. Shaking hands and posing for pictures. But after Chris snapped his
last Sharpie marker closed, Armie was nowhere to be found. He had been
sitting in the front row during the reading, but Chris saw him get up
during the Q&A session.

"Bestseller already," Chris heard. It was Sebastian. "That can't be bad
news." He pulled Chris into a hug, "Congratulations again."

"Thank you," Chris said. "Good reviews. Good sales. I'm okay with it."

"Where's Armie?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," Chris said, surveying the
crowd. It was never hard to spot him, so it was clear he wasn't around. "I
don't know where he went."

"Are we getting burgers after this?"

"Yeah, definitely," Chris said, his eyes still darting from face to
face. "Just let me find my husband and we can go."

It took about 20 minutes for Chris to get through the crowd, to sign a few
more books and to have a few more photos taken. He stepped out into the
darkened courtyard, knowing well enough that it's where Armie would
be. Well enough after he checked everywhere indoors, that is.

"David should know by now that you don't smoke these," Armie said as Chris
approached. A cloud of cigar smoke wafted above him, rising up into the
velvety night sky as he blew upwards.

"He sends them for you," Chris said, his hands sliding into his pockets as
he got closer.

Armie chuckled. "He's a nice guy."

"Should we get going?"

"This book made me cry," Armie said, reaching out to hold Chris' hand as he
leaned against the wall next to him.

"Is that unusual?"

"No, but, this book isn't typical. You told me you were writing a love
story and this book is about a family."

"Yeah, there's lots of love in this story."

"Do you want a family? You say things and you write things and sometimes I
don't know what's what."

Chris gave Armie's hand a squeeze. He watched as Armie snuffed the rest of
his cigar against the concrete before pulling him close.

"Christopher," Armie said, their foreheads together. "All you've ever
wanted is a family. I know that."

"I'm scared," Chris said, his voice cracking. "I'm really scared."

Armie wrapped his arms around Chris' back, placing soft kisses wherever he
could touch in Chris' hair, on his forehead and his temples. Hearing it out
loud after all this time made it real for the both of them. "I don't think
that's unusual," Armie said, stroking Chris' cheek.

"I don't want to let you down," Chris said, pressing his face into Armie's
chest. "But I don't want to let a baby down, either."

It was completely rational and completely irrational all at once. Armie
held Chris tight, unsure of what to say. "Let's get out of here," Armie
said. "You did really great tonight."

"I know I'm disappointing you," Chris said, wiping at his eyes. "And that
breaks my heart."

"It's not like that," Armie said. "You'd never disappoint me. We can talk
about it tomorrow."

"If something happened to us, your mom would have to take care of our kid,"
Chris said. "Can you imagine that?"

"We'd make sure my brother gets guardianship. Or even Sebs," Armie
joked. "My mom wouldn't be involved."

Chris stepped back, taking Armie's hand in his own. "Take me home."

They made their way back to the main galleries, hoping to avoid the crowd,
which had thinned by now. As soon as the servers stopped passing around the
Champagne, most people left, books in hand, ready to be read or tossed
aside. Chris' books didn't make for good coffee table decorations, so he
assumed most people bought them to slide onto their bookshelves to impress
their friends, not actually read. Maybe that was the wrong way to look at
things, but nobody seemed to remember any plot points that weren't printed
on the book jacket.

"There you are," Sebastian said. "Were you crying? What's going on?"

"I'm fine," Chris said. "We've just had a lot to take on."

"Nothing you haven't gone through before, right?" Sebastian asked, the
concern fading from his face.

"We'll survive," Armie said, squeezing Sebastian's shoulder. "Let's go. I
think we all need to get out of here."

A love story wasn't exactly what Chris had set out to write, but it's what
came out of him this time around. It was quicker than ever before, it was
breezy and carefree, and unlike most of his other releases, this one was
smooth and easy from start to finish. Even David noticed. Revisions were
minimal and Chris didn't struggle with anything, from the initial concept
to the final draft. It was definitely unusual, but Chris could get used to
it. Armie had watched from afar, slightly amazed at how different the
process seemed this time around. With the distraction of looking into
adopting, he had plenty of things to keep busy.

When the reviews came in, there wasn't a thing to worry about in that
department, either. Critics, even ones that seemed hell-bent on pointing
out every flaw in Chris' work, seemed enamored with this book. It was
accessible, happy, and different from just about all his other ones. And
while most writers would take that as an insult, Chris was always known as
being experimental, so it was tough for most reviewers to pin down a
distinct style. Chris was usually more associated with themes, anyway. This
time around, he was doing a complete about-face from the usual cerebral,
dark, and heavy books. But just because it had a happy ending didn't mean
it was just fluff.

Chris grabbed for Armie's phone, which buzzed with an unfamiliar
number. Chris sent the call straight to voicemail, hoping that nobody
around him would notice. The silent setting wasn't exactly silent when the
vibrations against a table were just as noisy as a ringtone. Armie was on
the other side of the set, looking at a spread of screens, his face on
every single one.

Then, Chris' phone buzzed. Chris pulled it out of his pocket, realizing
just how silly he looked with a phone in each hand. It was the same number.

"This is Christopher. Christopher Hammer."

From the corner of his eye, Armie saw Chris fiddling with something. The
production assistants, a few rolling trunks, and a slew of extras milling
around, were obscuring him, but Armie noticed the commotion
immediately. Chris' eyes met his across the chaos, but Armie couldn't tell
just what was happening. They hadn't even reached the halfway point of the
shooting schedule today and they were already running behind.

"Do you know if Chris has a walkie-talkie?" Armie asked a passing PA.

He only got a shrug in response. Armie looked down at the table, scrambling
to grab his own walkie, but by the time he looked up, Chris wasn't under
the pop-up canopy anymore. Armie's eyes scanned the crowd. Chris was gone.

Armie rushed over to where he'd left his phone. A message from Chris read
simply: "I'll be in the trailer. The adoption agency came through." Armie
could feel his breath hitch, but he forced himself to hold back any
emotional swell. This wasn't the first time. The whole situation could fall
through all over again. He wasn't going to get too hopeful right now.

Chris' fingers were flying across his laptop's keyboard as Armie swung the
trailer door open. This wasn't the biggest project, so he was lucky to have
a trailer at all, but Chris had holed up in it often enough that they'd
made it comfortable enough. "What's the news?"

"When are you done today? The agency wants to meet up. They said a special
case came in. They won't tell me any details." His eyes didn't waver from
the screen and his words were sharp and quick. This was focused Chris.

"We can be done now," Armie said. "Tell them we can be there in half an
hour."

"Really?" Chris asked, raising an eyebrow.

"45 minutes," Armie said. "It's rush hour."

 Chris was tense the entire drive from Culver City to Santa Monica. In true
L.A. style, the few miles did end up taking 45 minutes. "What a day for us
to look like shit," Chris said. He was wearing faded jeans and a black
T-shirt. While he usually would be anxious and nervous, something about the
phone call made it sound like this was different. They'd gone through
meetings, filed so much paperwork, and been through so much that he should
have been numb by now, but it wasn't quite there. He didn't know how to
describe it, but nauseous would probably be the most accurate.

"This isn't an interview," Armie assured him. He reached over for Chris'
hand, but he was on his phone, refreshing his email over and over
again. "Are you nervous?"

"I don't want you to get upset over it again."

"I can't make any promises."

"This movie seems...efficient," Chris said, rubbing his eyes. "I mean
everything's going on schedule. That's good."

"What's wrong?" Armie said, chuckling. "You can't even talk. Calm down."

"Did you see the email?"

"No. I figured you did."

"It's not a girl," Chris said. He finally reached over for Armie's hand,
squeezing it in his own. He knew that Armie had wanted a girl, but through
the rejection and false hope, Chris figured Armie would be happy no matter
what came their way.

"It's not important," Armie said. "What else did it say?"

"It's not important," Chris said. "Just that this was a very special case."

"No matter what happens today, we can't stop trying. You'll make a very
good dad. Don't doubt yourself."

"I'm going to doubt myself the entire time," Chris said.

Chris was in a daze, listening but not really taking anything in as the
adoption agent spoke. Armie was engrossed, leaning in, his forehead
furrowed as he absorbed each and every word. It was happening so fast, even
though they'd been working on it for months. The emotional trip was one
thing. Going through it with Armie was something else. If Chris was working
on a book right now, it would be a maelstrom.

"His parents died in a car accident," Chris heard the agent say. He looked
over at Armie and their eyes locked.

"This is the one," Chris said, the words jamming together and spilling from
his mouth. Armie looked alarmed for a split second before he reached for
Chris' hands and nodded.

"This is the one."

"It's nothing like you wanted. He's a boy. He's three. He has family, they
just can't take this on financially. He has a name."

"Euan," Chris said. "It's weird. Why isn't it Ewan?"

"It doesn't matter," Armie said. "Do what you can. This is the one."

The appointment was over in less than 15 minutes. They were back in the car
before Chris even realized what had happened. In a few days, they'd have to
drive to San Diego for a supervised visitation. If everything worked out,
Euan would be living with them in just a few days. Armie was a ball of
excitement and Chris didn't know if there was anything that could wipe the
smile off his face. Chris listened as Armie told his mom everything on the
car speakerphone. She seemed excited and even though Chris remained silent
during the entire conversation, he was relieved at Dru's reaction.

Chris pulled Armie away from the front door when they got home. Armie took
the hint, stepping alongside Chris as they made their way to the
sidewalk. The sky was starting to darken and the ocean breeze was pulling
goose bumps up on Chris' forearms. They'd talked about a baby a million
times. Chris had examined it from every angle and thought that he could
maybe handle it. Armie, with his gung-ho attitude, latched onto the
sentiment, hoping against everything that Chris was just hesitant to any
change. The way he interacted with his nieces was enough evidence that he
could hold his own with children. They made their way around the canals and
Armie listened to the same concerns again. If Chris needed to get it out of
his system, Armie would let him.

It was dark by the time they got back to the front door. Chris leaned
against the kitchen counter, watching as Armie rifled through the mail. "As
long as we do it together," Chris said. "We can do anything. You tell me
that all the time."

"You're stuck with me," Armie said, smiling. "So that's that. We're going
to get this kid. Whatever it takes."

Chris picked up the soccer ball that sat alone on the tiny patch of grass
in the front yard, smiling as he opened the door. Euan, who took to his new
dads immediately, had just turned five. That meant soccer camp,
kindergarten, and driving both Chris and Armie crazy with nonstop questions
and finally deciding that he could choose his own outfits. The first year
together had been a comedy of errors, with Chris hoping to do everything by
the book -- he had amassed a whole stack of them -- and then tossing every
rule out. He and Armie had slowed everything down, hoping to spend as much
time as possible with their new toddler. Chris put every project on
hold. Armie finished his movie and took some time off, too. It was like
they disappeared completely, something neither of them thought was even
possible.

"Kiddo, you can't leave this outside," Chris said, plopping the ball down
on the floor and kicking it over to where Euan and Armie were in the
kitchen.

"No kicking in the house," Euan said, smiling. Chris leaned down to kiss
the top of his head before leaning up to kiss Armie.

"How was practice today?" Chris asked, setting a bag of groceries on the
kitchen counter.

"Chaos," Armie said. He rummaged through the bag and pulled out everything
he needed. Chris could already tell that there was a pizza in the works.

"Let me hose him off and we'll be down before dinner. Can you handle this
playdate-dinner date prep situation by yourself?"

"I'll manage," Armie said. "Take it easy. He'll go down easy tonight. He
was running around all day."

"Daddy said you made some friends today at soccer," Chris said as they made
their way upstairs. "Are you and Caleb both having fun?"

Euan nodded, chuckling as he recounted the day's activities in meticulous
detail, right down to how everyone got a chance to kick the ball into the
goal. His talkative nature definitely came from his other dad, but Chris
loved to listen to him go on an on, loved to pick up on which details he
chose to focus on, what fascinated someone at such a young age. Everything
Chris had worried about seemed to be a distant memory. As anxiety-inducing
as that idea was, taking things as they came was Chris' usual strategy. He
was learning as much about himself as he was about being a dad.

Chris heard the doorbell ring as he was pulling Euan's sneakers. A few
moments later, the walked down the stairs to see Robbie and his husband,
Greg, sitting in the living room. Armie had opened all of the back doors
and Caleb, Robbie and Greg's son and Euan's best friend, immediately
bounded towards them. "Hey Caleb," Chris said, kneeling down to give him a
quick hug. "You guys are wearing the same shoes." Both of them looked down
at their feet to see the same pair of checkerboard Vans.

They erupted into a fit of laughter and scrambled to join their dads. Chris
and Armie had met Robbie Rogers and Greg Berlanti after Chris reached out
to them, wanting some advice, some insight, and, more than anything else,
someone to relate to. They clicked immediately and, thankfully, Euan and
Caleb did, too. Being the same age, they became quick pals and Chris was so
appreciative to have another couple around that was almost like him and
Armie.

It helped that Greg was in the entertainment industry, too. It gave him and
Armie something to talk about. Chris and Robbie, who played soccer, were
usually happy to let them talk shop.

"He looks more like you every day," Greg said before taking a long sip of
beer.

"Very funny," Chris said, settling in next to Armie. It was true,
though. Euan had dark brown hair and dark eyes, giving him more of Chris'
characteristics than Armie's.

"You excited to get back to business?" Greg asked.

"I've got a lot of options," Chris said. "Sebastian has a favorite, Armie
has one. It's up to me and David to get through the weeds."

"He said he wasn't working these last couple years, but you know that's not
true," Armie said. "You can't turn off this brain." He leaned over and
kissed Chris' temple.

"You had nothing to worry about," Greg said. "If anything, that little guy
is just a nonstop source of material for you."

"I'm still living in a constant state of fear that I'm going to mess him
up," Chris said. "But he's fine."

"He'll be fine," Robbie said. "So are we going to celebrate or just talk
about the kids? This isn't a PTA meeting."

"Sebastian's not here yet," Chris said, glancing out of the back
doors. Sebastian knew he could just come in through the back.

"I'll get you another beer, buddy," Armie said, getting back to his feet.

Greg nodded in appreciation, his eyes focusing on the boys playing just a
few feet away.

"There you are," Chris said, getting off the couch as Sebastian appeared on
the back patio. He leaned down and scooped Euan up into his arms, rubbing
his stubbly face all over Euan's.

"Congratulations," Sebastian said, reaching out to give Chris' shoulder a
squeeze. Back on the ground, Euan wrapped his arms around Sebastian's
leg. "I see everyone's here for the occasion."

"I couldn't have done it without Greg," Chris said. "He's the one that's
making it all happen."

"Like there'd be a show without that book," Robbie said.

"Let me get a soda and we can celebrate," Chris said. He and Sebastian,
with Euan still clinging to his leg, made their way to the kitchen. "Euan,
let go," Chris said. "Sebastian needs to walk, too."

"We can play in a little bit, kid," Sebastian said. It seemed to satisfy
Euan, who begrudgingly let go. The two of them had formed a bond that
always made Chris smile. It was easy enough to ask Sebastian to be his
godfather, but then they all realized that they didn't really know what
that entailed. Sebastian took it as an opportunity to spend as much time
with Euan as possible and nobody seemed to mind. He was there on Euan's
first day of kindergarten, at his first soccer game, at all his swim
lessons -- and Chris and Armie were happy to have him.

"Can I show you my notebook?" Euan asked.

"Of course," Sebastian said. "Let me do this boring stuff and I'll be right
there."

Chris handed him a beer and they joined the others in the living room. "So,
I never thought any of my books would turn into movies, but they did. Then,
I never thought any of them would be plays, but that happened. And now,
thanks to Greg, one will be on TV. For that, I can't even start to say how
grateful I am. Thank you for seeing something special in 'Four-Letter
Words' and working so hard to make everything happen. I love you guys."

"Cheers," Armie said, raising his own bottle. The sound of clinking glass
filled the room and everyone exchanged hugs.

"You did good," Armie whispered in Chris' ear. He wrapped his arm around
Chris' waist and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "With everything," he
said softly.

Euan was sitting in Sebastian's lap in no time at all, flipping through his
red Moleskine journal and showing off his scribbles and doodles. Chris
always had a notebook in his back pocket, so it made sense that Euan would
follow that habit. Armie thought it was adorable and so did most of the
people who Euan showed his work to.

"C'mere," Armie said, pulling Chris down to the sofa and wrapping an arm
around his shoulders. "Still think that we're messing up the kid?"

"I think he's messing me up," Chris said. "I've never been more
exhausted. I've never been more frazzled. And I've never loved anyone more
than that little guy."

"I'm not going to say that I told you so, but I did."

Chris nuzzled against Armie's neck, chuckling. "I was right, too."

"What are you talking about? You were freaking out."

"I told you that there were miles to go before we were done. We took a
detour. Got a hitchhiker. Lots of miles left."

"You're so sappy sometimes."

Chris leaned over and kissed Armie one more time. "Sappy is okay
sometimes. When it's all of this, it's definitely okay."

--

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