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The cottage’s small garden was positively bursting with people, colleagues and friends and family laughing and chatting together. The sun was setting, stars just starting to peak through the orange-red-pink wisps of cloud, and Anthony Crowley-Fell couldn’t imagine a better setting for his retirement party.
Anthony would have been content with a simple dinner— his husband made a stellar shepherd’s pie, after all— but Asa had insisted on holding some sort of celebration.
Garlands of iridescent stars and twinkle lights joined the ivy on the trellises, and antique lamps glowed warmly on each table. Asa had invited everyone he could have ever wanted there, and he smiled as he looked out at the group. Anathema and Newt from the university danced with Nina and Maggie, and the little cluster of younger people— Adam, Joshua, and Warlock, with the rest of their group.
The old husbands looked on happily as Eric hoisted Muriel onto his back to “battle” Wensleydale where he sat on Pepper’s shoulders, Brian cheering and hooting and mimicking a sports announcer.
The music played on, eventually settling on Queen’s Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy as the moon shone high in the sky and the party wound down. Once the last guest set off for their car, Anthony pulled Asa into his arms, and together they began to spin and dance. Asa grinned as his husband sang along with Vera Lynn about that precious nightingale singing in Berkeley Square.
They swayed together for some time, until the song ended and there was only the closeness of their embrace and the distant serenade of the crickets. Asa leaned in close, and whispered against his beau’s chest, “Au monde.” His accent was terrible, Anthony laughed, but perhaps his French would be a bit better by their trip to Paris next month.