“You nervous?” Spencer asked, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel.
“Terrified,” Jamie admitted freely, staring out the windshield. “I feel like we’re wearing a sign that says, ‘Look at us, we’re together!’ in giant, denim letters.”
Spencer reached over, his hand finding Jamie’s on the seat. He laced their fingers together. “Well, we are. Together, I mean. And we look good.”
Jamie squeezed his hand. “We do, don’t we?” He was quiet for a minute. “You think anyone’s gonna give us trouble?”
“I don’t know,” Spencer said honestly. “Maybe a look or two. And I’m not letting a bunch of strangers I’ll never see again ruin our night. I get to dance with the best-looking guy there. That’s all I care about.”
Jamie brought their joined hands up and kissed Spencer’s knuckles. “When did you get so smooth?”
“Must be the cowboy hat,” Spencer joked, feeling his nerves settle. “Gives me confidence.”
“Good,” Jamie said, his voice soft. “Then I’ll stick close to you and your confident hat all night.”
“Deal.” Spencer smiled, his thumb stroking the back of Jamie’s hand. The headlights cut a path through the darkness, leading them toward the noise and the lights and the music, and for the first time all evening, Spencer felt genuinely ready.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jamie
The Find a Daddy Christmas mixer had finally arrived. Jamie and Daddy Spencer strolled into the cabin, side by side, boots clicking against the wooden floor, both dressed like they’d coordinated for a cowboy magazine—dark jeans, denim shirts, and the cowboy boots made Jamie walk taller and he loved that. His favorite was matching cowboy hats. He never had one and was enjoying it especially looking exactly like Daddy Spencer.
The first room they entered was more of a welcome room, decked out with twinkling lights wrapped around birch trees, and oversized ornaments hung from the ceiling. Name tags and candy canes sat on a table, with a velvet-lined box next to Nathan and Alfie, who were wearing matching red shirts, black slacks, and Santa hats.
Nathan greeted them. “Welcome, gentlemen.” He held out a velvet-lined box with a mischievous grin. “Jingle Bells” thumped in the background, just loud enough to make conversation slightly awkward. “Daddies wear black masks and littles wear red ones.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. Masks? That hadn’t been part of the plan or was it? He glanced at Daddy Spencer, who looked just as thrown but already amused. Their whole “we’re a couple and we look amazing” vibe was about to get color-coded.
Daddy Spencer grabbed the black mask with a smirk. He slid it on like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life.
Jamie took the red one, hesitating for half a second before tying it behind his head. It felt weird, like stepping into a role he hadn’t auditioned for. But Daddy Spencer kissed his cheek, and that helped. They were still them—just with masks on their faces.
Then they stepped into the main room.
Christmas lights flickering everywhere wrapped around the ceiling, the ones Alfie and Jamie had strung up. The scent of their baked gingerbread cookies hung in the air. People milled around in black and red masks, laughing, flirting, sipping drinks from glittery cups. The whole place buzzed with holiday tension and too much mistletoe. What if he stood under the mistletoe and some stranger kissed him or worse yet, if Daddy Spencer stood there by mistake?
Jamie scanned the crowd and froze.
Near the fireplace, two figures stood talking. One in a black mask, stiff posture. Jamie’s gut twisted. That was Tom. He was almost sure. The way he stood, the way he held his hip like he was posing for a magazine—it was textbook Tom. The man who made him feel like a walking disappointment. He would never forget what Tom had done to him. He’d dumped him like a bad purchase and left him standing there with nothing but a bruised heart. Tom couldn’t disguise his meanness.
Then came the guy in the red mask, practically bouncing off the furniture, talking too loud, making sexual gestures. Jamie’s breath caught. And that was none other than—Billy. Long blondhair, a red mask, practically draped over Tom. Jamie didn’t even need to guess.
Seriously? Both of them together? So maybe Billy wasn’t lying about Tom.
Jamie’s chest tightened. Tom made him feel small, like he was always one mistake away from being discarded. And now Billy was with him? It was like watching two bad decisions make out in public.
Both Daddy Spencer and Jamie’s past relationships had collided like two messy trains in the middle of a Christmas party. It was ridiculous.
A wave of emotions hit him—first, satisfaction. He was here with Daddy Spencer, looking amazing, feeling whole. No begging for affection, no silent tests to pass. Just warmth and ease.
But then vindication. Tom, the control freak, was stuck talking to Billy, the chaos gremlin. Jamie almost laughed out loud. It was karmic gold. Tom liked order. Billy was a walking tornado. Let them deal with each other.
Daddy Spencer noticed too. His jaw clenched, and Jamie could practically hear the internal monologue: I’m going to tell that guy off.
Before Jamie could say anything, the two of them strutted over as if they were presenting themselves as King Tom and Prince Billy.
“Spencer,” Billy said, voice syrupy sweet. “This is Tom. My new daddy.”
