Fuck Bankes. Fuck bippity-boppity-boo. Not even xV’s guide to correct pronunciation could save him now. Damien would head home to New York on the next available flight, and after that, he’d never see Matthew again.
To compose himself, he sat back in his chair and focused all of his attention on Harley, who decidedly didnotmake Damien’s heart feel like it was primed to win the gold medal in the hundred-meter dash.
Damien shrugged and did what he always did when life kicked him in the nuts—he put on his best shit-stirring grin and waggled an eyebrow humorously. “You can sit here, sure, but on one condition. I feel like I might need protection from Gwynn. You down to be my bodyguard throughout the ceremony?”
“Sure.” Harley hunkered down by Damien and folded his arms behind his head. He flashed Damien a winning smile. “But just so you know, Gwynn’s my friend, so while I’ll do my best to keep you safe, I’m not gonna do him any bodily harm, either.”
“Fair enough.” Damien’s lips twitched, and he feigned scoping out the enemy to steal another look at Matthew. The light of the setting sun shimmered in his hair. One wayward strand stood out from the rest, and Damien’s fingers twitched to smooth it. If they were together, he could care for Matthew in all the ways that Matthew couldn’t care for himself—he could keep him safe from life, make sure that he was happy, sheltered, and never in want of anything.
“You’re thinking of glitter bombing him again, aren’t you?” Harley asked in a low whisper, leaning in close.
Damien’s chest tightened, but he flashed Harley a grin regardless. He’d never tell that behind his smile, his broken heart pleaded for something it could never have.
* * *
Two large outdoor speakers were set up to flank both sides of the sitting area, and as the clock struck five, they came to life. The music they played was sweet and simple—some kind of string quartet affair—but Damien didn’t recognize the melody. Determined not to let the bullshit that was his professional life get in the way of what should have been a happy time, Damien fired off a text to Nadja, then powered down his phone.
Shit has hit the fan. I repeat, shit has hit the fan. I need immediate evac. Help a guy out?
If Nadja replied, her text didn’t make it before his screen went black.
Damien was just in time. Nikki, xV’s eight-year-old daughter, strode down the center aisle. She moved with exaggerated purpose, scuffing her sandals and kicking up sand as she went. The sundress she wore was blue, darkest at the bottom hem of the skirt, but so light that it was almost white from the bodice up. Loose curls draped over one of her shoulders, decorated with tiny pearls and small white flowers. When she passed Damien’s row, Damien noticed that her hair was also artfully pinned behind her head. Was it xV’s handiwork, or was it Mal’s attention to detail? If not them, it had to be one of the Dads—maybe Glit. Damien was fairly sure there weren’t any hairdressers hiding out in the seashells on the beach.
Nikki moved onward, scattering handfuls of red and white rose petals as she went. Soon enough, she arrived at the altar. It was a stunning but simplistic piece of art composed of two thin diamond frames, the outer gold and the inner white. They’d been positioned to frame the sand, sea, and sky. Asymmetrical bouquets full of white roses, baby’s breath, and dark green leafy fronds had been tied to the structure to mask the poles holding it up. The setting sun added additional beauty to the scene, not that it needed much. Damien glanced at Matthew, who’d leaned in to whisper something in his father’s ear.
No, it didn’t need much at all.
At the altar, Nikki threw a dramatic handful of petals into the sky, then stepped aside and traded places with the officiant, who’d been waiting in the front row next to TD and Assface. Behind them sat Glit and his harem, who were babysitting xV and Mal’s twins. Damien sat in the next row back. Apart from Gwynn, Matthew, and Alex, who occupied the first row on the other side of the aisle, and Shep and Evie who sat behind them, three strangers had made it to the wedding that Damien hadn’t seen hanging around the bures—two men in their fifties or sixties, and a young woman in her mid-to-late twenties. They sat in the back row across from Damien’s aisle, silent but smiling. The younger of the two men was blond and wore his long hair loose. It fell down his back to a point between his shoulders and his elbows. The older kept his salt-and-pepper hair short. He was broad in a way that reminded Damien of Harley—thick, but lean with muscle, like his body had been shaped by his service to his country. The young woman who sat with them bore a strong resemblance to the younger man, although her hair was dyed crimson red.
Familiarity prickled at the back of Damien’s mind, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. Before he could think on it, the music changed, and xV and Mal appeared.
Hand in hand, they walked each other down the aisle. xV moved with elegant grace, poised and perfect, the corner of his lip lifted in unspoken joy. Mal strode beside him, his hair a crown of curls. They wore matching suits.
When they made it to the altar, Nikki cheered. Mal’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. xV smoothed his thumb over the back of Mal’s hand and awarded Nikki a smile. Seeing them in person as a family was far different from seeing them posed in xV’s Christmas cards. Their happiness wasn’t static—it grew and changed as their family did. No matter what, as long as they kept adapting, they’d be okay.
Now that the grooms had arrived, the ceremony began. xV kept his gaze trained on Mal, hopeless devotion softening the strait-laced, analytical man Damien knew into a dreamer. Mal, meanwhile, smiled at xV like xV was the one who painted the stars in the sky and whose very presence made sunshine look dim in comparison. People spent their whole lives in pursuit of a love half as real as theirs. Damien’s wounded heart panged. He couldn’t help but look Matthew’s way.
Harley nudged Damien in the ribs. When Damien snapped back to reality, he saw why—xV and Mal were about to say, “I do.” Glad not to have missed it, Damien gave them his full attention as they pledged their devotion to each other. It wasn’t every day a Single Dad got hitched.
“Do you, Malakai Collins, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Mal offered xV a timid, heartfelt smile. “I do.”
“And do you, Vincent Rhyne, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” xV said without hesitation.
The officiant nodded. “Then it is my honor to pronounce you partners for life. You may now seal your union with a kiss.”
xV and Mal took him up on the offer. Their kiss wasn’t, by any means, chaste. xV pulled Mal into his arms and kissed him like he had on the dance floor at Gwynn’s wedding all those years ago. Mal, cheeks pink, slid his arms around xV’s neck and kissed him back. When they parted, xV reached for the altar’s nearest bouquet and plucked a single rose from it. He slid the thornless flower behind Mal’s ear and brushed their lips together.
Nikki hopped up from her chair and clapped, followed by Evie, who flashed Nikki a grin and matched her enthusiasm. Soon, everyone was on their feet cheering on the most recently married Single Dad and his husband.
xV and Mal, grinning ear to ear, exited down the aisle and headed for the bures. Damien watched them go, one eyebrow raised. It was good to see that xV was keeping Mal young—there’d been a lot of hoisting the kids off on other Single Dads the last few days so they could have alone time, and it looked like they were about to go take advantage of a little more before the reception began.
“Our dads are married!” Nikki proclaimed loudly to Charlotte and Isaac while kneeling backward on her chair, her arms crossed casually over the top. Charlotte and Isaac laughed. “Now we get toparty!”
Damien exhaled slowly through his nose and turned his phone back on. The kids and the other Single Dads could party, but there’d be no rest for the wicked. If he was lucky, a one-way ticket back to New York would be waiting in his inbox, along with another request for that elusive 5% raise.
