It had been a far more lavish affair than Asa’s and Zane’s wedding, with Felix in a silk floral tuxedo and Avi in a wine-colored suit, both designed by Felix. There had been hundreds in attendance, from Thomas’s business connections to celebrities and fashionistas, including Felix’s new business partner, Valencia, and his PR manager, Trixie, the rock star’s daughter.
Avi opened his mouth as Felix fed him a forkful of cake, looking around at the others. This wasn’t their first night sitting around the coffee table eating. It wasn’t even their first night this week, but life with the four of them together was far more than Avi had ever thought possible. He could hardly remember a time when he was afraid Zane would take Asa from him. Now, he had everything.
“Oh, there she goes,” Zane said with a laugh as Cricket hurled into the ice bucket.
“I can’t believe August and Lucas are up to three under three. That’s insane. They’re insane,” Felix said. “And their insanity is spreading. My brother and Atticus are talking about having a baby.”
“Do you think we’ll have kids?” Zane asked.
“Do we…want kids?” Felix asked, looking around at the four of them as if it was a group decision.
“Maybe?” Asa said. “But not now, right? Like, babies mean no more champagne nights in our underwear and no more playtime in the woods or the sex attic.”
“Maybe. I say solid maybe,” Avi said, feeding Felix more cake.
“I can live with maybe,” Zane said.
“With more champagne, I can live with anything,” Felix said, reaching for the bottle.
Avi stopped him. “Happy Anniversary. I love you.”
Felix grinned at him. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”
Asa snorted. “Ugh, enough of the mushy stuff. Rewind the puking scene,” he said, dragging Zane into his lap.
Zane rolled his eyes. “That’s Asa for Happy Anniversary.”
Felix and Avi looked at Zane. “We know,” they said in tandem.
PLEASE NOTE:
For clarification, the following two bonus epilogues are actually bonus prologues.
Mac couldn’t take his eyes off him. He wasn’t the only one. The man was attracting all kinds of attention with his long leather coat and dark wavy hair that fell over one eye every time he leaned in close to the boy beside him. He looked like a pirate…or a celebrity. Did they have celebrity pirates? Did Captain Morgan count?
Even from across the room, he had an attitude like he was untouchable. If Mac had to peg him as anything, it would be an actor. He was certainly putting on a performance, teasing the boy beside him, pushing his hair from his face, talking directly into his ear. The kid was eating it up, too. He looked three seconds away from twirling his hair around his finger like some fifties teen in a malt shop.
Maybe Mac shouldn’t have had that fourth drink. He might be a little drunk. He hadn’t come to the bar to get laid, but he also hadn’t expected to find Jack Sparrow in a fancy Vegas hotel bar, so there was that.
The man was younger than Mac, by a lot, but he carried himself like someone who was used to never hearing the word no. He sat holding court at a horseshoe-shaped booth in the backcorner of the dimly lit bar, one booted foot on the seat, the other long leg stretched out beside it. His clothes were expensive but well worn. Mac didn’t know if that was through use or by design, but the shirt he wore was open at the neck and showing just enough skin to give Mac ideas.
Mac knew he was staring. Hell, others probably knew it, too. Everyone but his current obsession himself. He was oblivious. That was fine with him. It gave him a chance to observe him, to figure out his motives. The man nursed the drink in front of him, turning his head each time he wanted to whisper in the ear of the little blond twink sitting beside him. If he was attempting a seduction, he wasn’t making much of an effort. If anything, he looked bored.
The boy beside him didn’t notice, but Mac did. There was something in his eyes. Even from a distance, Mac could see that the other man didn’t want to be there, not really. When the boy stood abruptly, either to leave or go to the bathroom, another boy slid into his seat. They could have been interchangeable. Same slight build, same light hair, same bored expression on the sullen pirate.
Mac drained his drink and stood, walking to the booth with zero expectations. As he approached, the stranger turned, raking his heated gaze over Mac from head to toe before dropping his feet so Mac could sit. He wasn’t wasting the invitation. He dropped into the seat and slid in close.
The man hooked one dark brow upwards, and that was when Mac really noticed his eyes. Not the color, but thick lashes so dark it looked almost like he wore eyeliner. It would have looked ridiculous on anybody else, but somehow, the whole look just worked for him. It worked for Mac, too, who was already half-hard just off the scent of the stranger’s cologne.
“I’m Mac,” he said.
“Archer,” the other man offered.
“Is that your name or profession, Robin Hood?” Mac teased.
“He plays poker,” the kid said beside him. “Like, professionally.”
Mac ingested that information. A professional gambler. Somehow, that made sense. Mac was willing to bet he was great at it, too. Still, he ignored the kid entirely, giving his full attention to Archer, who was studying him like some people studied calculus.
