Part One: London, 2019
It was a perfect summer’s day in London—parks filled with picnic blankets, beer gardens brimming with laughter, office workers slipping away early just because. A warm breeze lifted fallen petals, which danced along the pavement.
Liam Holloway stood outside Hackney Town Hall in a navy Paul Smith suit, fumbling with the sobriety chip in his pocket, trying to reassure himself he deserved to be here today.
A taxi pulled up in front of him, and Liam stepped forward to open the passenger door.
He took Sarah’s hand as she stepped down onto the kerb. “Mum, you look really beautiful.” As she hugged her eldest son just a little too tightly, Liam looked over her shoulder and watched his stepfather settle the fare. David was making an awkward joke with the taxi driver about getting them to the Town Hall on time. There had always been something clumsy and socially inappropriate about David, in Liam’s opinion. To most other people, David was just very sweet and a little shy.
Liam gently parted from his mother’s embrace, and she moved her hands to cradle his face. Sarah began to cry. “Liam, we are so proud of you, son. Your father and I want you to know that.”
Liam felt that familiar twist in his stomach at the word “father.” He never knew this man. David was Alex’s biological father but not his, and although David had raised both boys as his own, somehow Liam always felt like an outsider in his own family.
He took a slow, deep breath and let it go. Today was not about him, and certainly not about that.
David joined them on the pavement, adjusting his tie, and stepped forward to hug Liam. “It’s good to see you looking so well, son. That’s a very sharp suit. Your brother won’t recognise you.”
What the actual fuck was that? Alex wouldn’t recognise him—why exactly? Because everyone expected him to turn up looking like a messed-up drug addict? Even their compliments felt like a dig.
Another deep breath.
“Thanks, David… er, you too.” It was the best Liam could come up with.
“Where’s Alex?” Sarah enquired. “We’ve texted him a few times, but he hasn’t replied.”
Liam frowned.
“Mum, it’s his wedding day! Give the guy a break. I’m sure he’s got bigger things on his mind right now than answering your texts.”
Then he winked at Sarah, releasing his frown into a loving smile. “Last time I saw him was in there”—Liam gestured towards the Town Hall—“pacing up and down. He’s nervous, although I don’t know why. As if there’s any chance lover-boy won’t show up to collect his meal ticket.”
Liam struggled to mask his disdain for Billy. He’d always pictured Alex with a partner who would look after him—not the other way round—blissfully blind to the irony. He’d relied on his younger brother for years. Alex was Liam’s lifeboat: lending cash that was never repaid, rescuing him from shady estates and emergency rooms, and vouching for him when no one else would.
Nine months ago, after Liam’s last relapse, Alex and Billy even cleared out their spare room for him after his girlfriend finally threw him out and changed the locks.
Billy lasted three weeks before calling Liam a fraud. To him the sobriety chips were props, the apologies were just well-rehearsed lies, and it was only a matter of time until Liam went on his next bender. But as the wedding approached, Liam and Billy had called a truce and agreed to put their differences to one side—at least until the cake was cut.
Sarah frowned at him. “Liam, please don’t. Billy makes your brother happy, and today is their celebration.”
Liam winked. “Mum, I know. I was trying to be funny. I’ll save it for the speeches later.”
But David knew this was a lie. No one trusted a word that Liam said any more, except Sarah and Alex.
“You should get in there and chat to Billy’s parents. They arrived ten minutes ago.”
Liam handed them both an order of service and gestured towards the steps of Hackney Town Hall, just as another black taxi pulled up.
The door swung open and three people stepped out in a flurry of fascinators, flowers, and suits: Sophia—Alex’s best friend of twenty years; Harry—Billy’s best friend from high school; and Zara. Crazy Zara, free-spirited, loud and irreverent.
Sophia had been by Alex’s side ever since they met in Thailand two decades ago—what began as sun-soaked chaos and traveling adventures became the deepest friendship of his life. Liam’s eyes met those of his brother’s best friend. The look they exchanged was anything but warm. Six months clean, he’d told everyone, but Sophia knew him better and suspected otherwise. She quickly turned away.
Zara ran towards Liam and threw her arms around him. “Fuck, you look so hot in a suit,” she shrieked, and kissed him on the lips, just a moment longer than she should have.
“When did you get in?” Liam asked.
“This morning, darling. I caught a red-eye, which landed at 6 a.m.—fucking shattered already! But I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Anyway, what do you think of the dress?” Zara purred, and she released her arms from Liam and spun around for him.
“Picked it up on my last trip to Buenos Aires. Isn’t it just everything?”
Sophia rolled her eyes. When they first met all those years ago whilst travelling, they’d quickly become like sisters—and Alex their honorary little brother. The three of them shared a flat in London for years, but then Sasha moved to New York, started calling herself Zara, and the intervening years had brought more than just geographical distance between them. These days Sophia just found her inauthentic and generally annoying. But Alex adored her, and that was all that mattered today.
“Sure thing, señorita,” Liam replied.
He watched as Sophia took Harry’s hand, quite deliberately. Had they started seeing each other? Was that where Sophia had been lately—on the arm of Billy’s best friend?
Harry and Liam were sharing best-man duties today. Liam had been surprised when Alex asked him—not because he didn’t want to do it, but because, well… he hadn’t earned it. Right now, all that mattered was being there for his little brother.
Liam glanced at his watch.
“We should all head in. It’s time.”
Zara linked arms with Liam as the four of them walked up the steps towards the huge wooden entrance door. To Sophia it looked like she was marking her territory for the day, and as far as she was concerned, Zara was welcome to him.
—
The Civil Wedding Room was wood-panelled and a lot more architecturally impressive than the rest of the building. At the back was a set of French doors, propped open ready for the grooms to enter. Donna—who had been there on the night that Alex and Billy first met in AA—was busy making last-minute adjustments to flower arrangements. She caught Liam’s eye as he was scanning the room, and she winked. The room could take up to one hundred people, but somehow, with just ten guests, Donna had made the space feel intimate and safe for Alex and Billy’s big day. Norah, Billy’s mother, was deep in conversation with Sarah. Beside her was Billy’s father, Antoine. Liam had met him only a few times, but he liked him. Antoine was French, with a dry sense of humour and a deep love of cigarettes. The two sets of parents got along very well—just like their sons.
The first notes of “Heroes” began—the familiar classic transformed into something achingly beautiful by sweeping strings and soft, deliberate pacing. None of Bowie’s lyrics, just the melody: a quiet swell of violins that rose through the air. The room fell silent. Everyone stood and turned towards the open French doors.
As a swell of violins went into the chorus, Alex and Billy appeared, stepping into the room together, their faces beaming with happiness as they moved steadily towards the front of the room.
Liam held his breath, his eyes locked on his brother. Alex looked… fuck, he looked beautiful, happy, whole—everything Liam longed to be. Like he was witnessing a version of himself he so desperately wanted, the type of life that might have been his if he hadn’t always been at war with himself.
Alex and Billy belonged together. They just fit.
The officiant welcomed everyone with a few warm words, then nodded toward Sophia, who rose gracefully from her seat.
She stepped to the front of the room, unfolding a single sheet of paper as she reached the small lectern. She looked at Alex and Billy first, then briefly out to the rest of the room. Her voice, when it came, was calm and clear.
“I’ve known Alex for almost twenty years. We met on a beach in Thailand—both too sunburned and too hung-over to make good decisions.”
A light ripple of laughter moved through the room. Zara looked surprised that Sophia hadn’t mentioned her at this moment too.
Sophia smiled gently, letting the moment land. “But thank God for growth. These days, there are no more hangovers for Alex… and clearly, much better decisions are being made. Better, perhaps, than the rest of us manage.”
She glanced towards Liam. It was quick; most people wouldn’t have noticed. But he felt it and swallowed deeply.
Sophia turned back to the grooms.
“And Billy,” she said, her voice warming, “you arrived in our lives like a quiet miracle courtesy of AA. Your love for Alex has always felt… honest. Intentional. You made him shine even brighter.”
She looked down at the page in her hand.
“So today, I wanted to read a poem. It isn’t overly romantic or formal. It’s strange and funny, and it’s called ‘Having a Coke with You’ by Frank O’Hara.”
She began reading and didn’t look up again until she reached the final line.
“Because in the end, it’s not the grand places we’ve been, or the things we thought would save us—it’s who stood beside us, in the soft light, when we weren’t trying to be anything but ourselves.”
A pause.
Then she added, gently:
“Alex, you are my best friend, and I love you dearly. Billy, over the past four years I’ve grown to love you almost as much, and I know that you are absolutely perfect for each other. I wish you all the happiness in the world, forever.”
Sophia returned to her seat, and Harry kissed her tenderly, pulling her close. Liam watched, feeling something dangerously close to jealousy, or regret.
He blinked and looked away as the officiant cleared her throat gently. “We have one final speaker before we move into the vows,” she said. “Billy’s best friend, Harry, would like to say a few words.”
Harry stood awkwardly, smoothing his jacket and giving a little shrug to the room as he approached the front. He didn’t carry any notes—just the nervous energy of someone who meant what he was about to say but wasn’t sure he could say it without breaking down. His girlfriend was a hard act to follow.
He glanced at Billy, then at Alex, then back to Billy again.
“I’ve known Billy since we were eleven. Which means I’ve known him through every bad haircut, every school play, every short-lived band we started in my parents’ garage—and, for the record, because I was the one who liked Robyn and knew all the dance routines, everyone thought I was the gay one.”
A warm ripple of laughter filled the room. Billy grinned and shook his head.
Harry continued, his tone softening. “But Billy has always been the artist—the one who turned everything he has experienced—every bit of pain, joy, confusion—into something beautiful, something that shows he is learning from his mistakes and growing as a man.”
He paused for a breath.
“I’ve watched him fall apart and put himself back together. I’ve watched him stay sober, stay kind, keep going. And then—he met Alex. Not on a dating app, or in a dive bar, but at an AA meeting!”
Harry turned to the couple, his voice gentle now.
“When they got together, I knew it wasn’t just love. It was finally finding his soulmate and his purpose in life.”
He swallowed, then smiled broadly.
“You inspire me, mate. You have the kind of strength, commitment, and passion for life I’ll always look up to.”
Harry stepped back as the room broke into quiet, heartfelt applause.
Liam wiped away the tears streaming down his face.
⸻
The reception was held in a tucked-away garden behind a Hackney restaurant: twinkling lights in the trees, white-washed walls, tables strewn with candles and photographs of Alex and Billy. Donna sat with the parents, chatting with Norah and Sarah about her own son Oscar and his wedding to Saul. Liam watched from a distance as Sarah laughed. He was pleased to see his mum so happy, after everything he’d put her through.
As Liam clutched his third Schweppes Ginger Ale of the evening, he heard Norah say something to Donna about not being able to drink at weddings because of her “illness.” Liam cringed. But Donna handled it gracefully, in exactly the same way he’d seen Alex and Billy do so many times. He wondered what it would be like to feel that level of ease. One day, maybe he would.
He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket and checked his watch.
It was time, at last.
Everyone in the garden was deep in conversation, so he could easily slip away unnoticed.
Liam turned away and walked towards the side gate, which opened onto a narrow alley beside the restaurant.
A car waited, hazard lights clicking, its engine purring quietly. He slipped into the back seat momentarily, then emerged on the other side. As the car pulled away, he turned towards the wall on the opposite side of the alley and reached into his pocket for a small butane torch. He opened his other hand and placed one end of a small glass pipe into his mouth. He started the torch and held the flame a few inches from the other end of the pipe. As the flame extinguished, he took a long hit, then exhaled, slow and steady, into the chilly night air.
“Jesus, Liam.”
The voice came from behind him, and Liam spun around, dropping the torch but clinging to the pipe.
Sophia.
“Soph,” he muttered, coughing. “I didn’t think you’d—”
“Don’t. Just don’t.”
She stepped towards him, her eyes like knives.
“You’re a fucking loser, Liam. You think you’re so smart with your lies and your bullshit. I knew you were still using. I fucking knew.”
She began to cry. Liam took a step towards her, but she instinctively flinched and stepped backwards, away from him.
“Soph, please don’t—”
“What, Liam? Please don’t tell Alex? If it wasn’t the happiest day of his life, if he hadn’t just married the most perfect man in the world, I would walk straight back in there and tell everyone what a low-life, lying piece of scum you are.”
“Soph, I’m really sorry.”
“Fuck you, Liam! No—you’re not. You’re sorry I caught you. You’re pathetic. You’ll never be the kind of man your brother is.”
Tears were streaming down her face.
“I saw you slip away, and I followed you out here to tell you something. And now I don’t know what to do.”
Liam stepped forward. Sophia was now sobbing almost hysterically, and this time she didn’t move. He held his hand out, and she accepted it. He wrapped his arms around her, and she didn’t resist. For a moment, everything stood still.
“I know I said that I’d stopped. And I had stopped. It’s been six months—but today was overwhelming for me, and I needed it. I don’t expect you to understand.”
Sophia didn’t look up. She just let him hold her, her face buried in his shoulder.
He opened his mouth to speak again, then closed it. It would have been another lie. What was the point?
“Liam,” she said finally, lifting her face and looking into his eyes. Her voice croaked before continuing.
“I’m pregnant. It’s your baby.”
The world slowed and froze.
“You’re… but we said we’d stop,” he whispered.
“But we didn’t, did we? And I’m trying so hard to move on from you, Liam. Harry is so kind, and steady, and… safe. And now I’m carrying all of your fucking chaos inside me.”
As they stood in the silence and darkness of the alley, they could hear Sarah and Norah laughing, Billy singing, Zara shrieking, and the music from the garden thumping just on the other side of the wall.
⸻
Part Two: New York, 2025.
Alex stood alone in the elevator as it descended, trying to process what Maya had just said.
Pregnant.
Maybe his.
The words looped around in his head.
His stomach twisted and his mind raced—not just from the news, but from everything around it: the tension he’d left hanging at work with Charli, the meeting with Miles, Leo, Donovan, fucking Prism. And Darius—his best friend, beaten to a pulp and lying helpless in a room somewhere above him, no idea that the baby his wife was carrying might belong to his best friend.
Then he remembered the unopened message from Sarah. The message that came while he was at Velour last night. The message he hadn’t opened yet.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
He scrolled through the messages until he found it and tapped on the screen.
Hello darling. I have some news. Billy’s coming to New York. He has a few gigs lined up. He said that he wants to see you.
His body stiffened. He stared at the text, pulse quickening.
He read the message again.
Fuck.
Billy. It had been almost five years since…
“You can handle this,” he whispered to himself. “You have to.”
The elevator continued to creak and shudder as it descended, very slowly, towards the ground floor.