Chapter 27: The Engagement Party

Eleanor insisted on engagement party.

"Henri and I never had engagement party because Henri was asshole CEO in 1980," she said on phone. "So you two will have party. Big party. With pancakes."

Lucien said "Mother, Milo hates big parties, he gets nervous and picks his nails until they bleed."

Milo, overhearing on couch with ring on finger, said "I want party! I want to show ring to everyone! I want to show that freckled boy with two socks got family key and now ring!"

So party happened on Saturday in penthouse, but Milo decorated, not Lena.

Milo put all his photos on walls — not just good ones, all ones, even white ruined ones that he and Lucien ruined together in darkroom, even baby drool photos, even Tokyo puddle photo.

He put blue flowers everywhere, because blue good luck.

He made playlist that was all songs he listened to when he was homeless and cold, but now they sounded happy.

And he wore his blue good luck shirt, black jeans, matching socks this time because Eleanor said "please, Milo, one day matching socks," and his silver ring with freckles inside, shining, catching light every time he moved his tiny hand.

Guests came at 7 PM.

First, Lena, with girlfriend, with bottle of wine that Milo checked — not for throwing, for drinking.

"My favorite wine thrower is engaged," Lena said, hugging Milo, looking at ring. "Tiny ring for tiny hands, good, you picked good, Lucien."

"I picked freckles inside," Lucien said from behind Milo, hands on Milo's waist, possessive even at party. "Because he has freckles like stars."

Second, Mrs. Alvarez from old building, with grandson, wearing best dress, bringing Tupperware of rice and beans that Milo used to love when he had no food.

"Milo! You have ring! Like real ring, not cheap one!" she shouted, hugging him, crying a little. "You look warm now, honey, you look warm."

Third, Sarah, baby client, with baby in tiny dress, baby wearing mismatched socks like Milo used to.

"She wanted to come," Sarah said, giving baby to Milo, and Milo held baby with ring hand, baby grabbing ring with tiny hand, drooling on it.

"She likes freckle ring," Milo whispered, showing baby ring, baby giggling.

Fourth, Lucien's rich friends, CEOs and investors who usually talked Tokyo numbers, but now looked at Milo's photos on walls and said "You took this? You laid in puddle for this? That's... that's actually art."

Milo, nervous, picked at black nails, but Lucien's hand was on his waist, squeezing every time Milo got scared.

Then Henri and Eleanor arrived from Paris, with suitcase of lavender even though November, because Provence house sent lavender for party.

Henri wore suit but took off jacket when he saw Milo's photos on walls, because he wanted to be comfortable in Milo's home.

Eleanor went straight to fridge, saw proposal photo and ring and Provence key and baby money still taped, and cried.

"My fridge!" she said, touching photos. "My fridge is now your fridge, and now you are family fridge!"

Milo laughed, freckles bright, ring shining.

At 9 PM, Lucien tapped glass, like gallery owner did, and everyone quieted.

Milo thought Lucien would speak CEO speech, cold numbers, but Lucien spoke boyfriend speech.

"I used to have penthouse with no photos on walls," Lucien said, arm around Milo, who was holding baby who was holding his ring finger. "And then boy in blue shirt came with camera and freckles and black nails and said 'your fridge is empty, you need photos.' And now my walls have photos, my fridge has photos, my life has photos, because of him. And now my finger will have ring, because he said yes on bench where he once was nobody, but to me he was always somebody."

People clapped, but Milo cried, because Lucien never said that in front of rich CEOs before.

Then Milo spoke, because he wanted to, even though he hated speaking.

"Hi," he said, voice shaking, ring hand shaking, baby still holding finger. "I used to be cold boy with box in moldy basement that said DO NOT THROW. And I thought my box was all I deserved. And then this man—" he pointed at Lucien with ring hand "—this man threw my cheap ring in trash and got mold on his suit and made salty soup and let me sit on his lap during $10 million meeting and gave me family key even though I wore two different socks. And now he gave me ring with freckles inside. And I have warm now. I have warm apartment and warm fridge and warm friends and warm baby who drools on my ring. So thank you for coming to my warm party."

Sarah cried. Mrs. Alvarez cried. Eleanor cried so loud Henri had to give her lavender.

Lucien kissed Milo right there, in front of CEOs, with baby between them, blue flowers everywhere, photos on walls, ring shining.

"This is good possessive party," Milo whispered after kiss, to Lucien only.

"This is our party," Lucien whispered back. "Our fridge, our photos, our ring, our baby who drools."

At end of night, after guests left, after Mrs. Alvarez left Tupperware and Henri left lavender and Lena left wine that was not for throwing, Milo and Lucien sat on floor, surrounded by blue flowers and photos, baby photos and Tokyo photos and white ruined photos.

Milo took ring off for one second to look at freckle dots inside, then put it back on fast, like it would disappear.

"I will never take it off," he said. "Even to develop. Even to shower. Even when I'm old and freckles fade."

"Freckles never fade," Lucien said, kissing his nose, counting freckles again, 47 on nose, same as night they met.

"They will fade when I'm 80," Milo said.

"Then I will tattoo freckles on you when you are 80," Lucien said.

Milo laughed, fell back onto blue flowers, ring hand up to ceiling, looking at it.

"Our engagement party had baby drool on my ring," he whispered, happy.

"Our engagement party had mold suit story and mismatched socks story and salty soup story," Lucien said, lying next to him in flowers.

"Our stories," Milo said.

"Our stories," Lucien repeated.

On fridge next morning, Milo taped baby photo of baby holding his ring finger, drool shining.

He wrote:

ENGAGEMENT PARTY WITH BABY WHO DROOLED ON MY RING AND MRS. A WHO SAID I LOOK WARM NOW. I AM WARM NOW. - M WITH RING

Lucien added:

He spoke in front of CEOs and didn't pick his nails until they bled. He only picked a little. Progress. And he is warm now. He was always warm, he just didn't know. - L

And Eleanor, who stayed over in guest room, added in morning:

My fridge is family fridge now. I will bring more pancakes. - E

Milo wore ring to sleep again, and this time Lucien wore matching ring — small silver band with one freckle dot inside, because Milo said "you need freckle too, so we match."

Two freckled boys, one real freckles, one tattoo freckle inside ring, sleeping in blue flowers and photos, engaged on bench where Milo was once nobody, now somebody with warm party and warm fridge and warm ring.