“It absolutely is,” Benji replied, undaunted. “We’re vetting him. This is important.”
“I don’t need you to vet him—”
“Oh, Finn. Yes, you do. You’re terrible at self-preservation. Remember the guy you dated for three months before realizing he was also married to two different women? He had two whole families and you as a gay side dish. You were the okra to his steak and chicken.”
“Okra!” Jacks howled.
I grimaced at the memory. “That was onetime—”
“Exactly. One time more than anyone else I know, at least in dating serial marriers. So we’re here to make sure Chase isn’t secretly terrible.” Benji turned back to Chase. “You’re not secretly terrible, are you?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Chase said, and I couldn’t tell if he was amused or exhausted. “Unless it’s a secret to me, too.”
That earned a laugh from the group.
Priya, bless her, was more subtle but no less thorough. She asked about Chase’s work-life balance, his stress management, and what he did for fun. She then dove into his partnership track and asked whether he planned to stick with it or if it was temporary.
“Because Finn needs someone who can be present,” she said. “Not someone who works eighty-hour weeks and shows up exhausted and emotionally unavailable.”
“Priya—” I started.
“No, it’s okay,” Chase said, reaching over and rubbing my leg. Priya’s eyes tracked his every movement, a ghost of a smile teasing her lips when his hand didn’t lift from my leg. “She’s right. I used to work those hours, but I don’t anymore. I made changes because I wanted a life outside of work. Because I wanted—” He glanced at me. “Because I wanted to be able to do this, have days like this.”
Priya studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Good answer.”
Then Mark detailed what he thought about Barbacks as a business model.
“It’s smart,” Chase said. “You’re niche marketing to a specific community and building a brand around authenticity and inclusivity. The Instagram presence helps, but the real draw is the atmosphere you all have created. People come back because they feel welcome.”
Mark looked pleased. “You’ve been paying attention.”
“Of course I have. It’s important to Finn, so it’s important to me.”
I felt my face flush.
He said things like that so casually, like it was obvious, like there was no question that what mattered to me would matter to him.
Jacks—sweet, earnest Jacks—mostly just asked if Chase was happy, if I made him happy and if Chase was good to me.
“Because he’s our people,” Jacks said, beer in hand, looking uncharacteristically serious, which came across more like he was trying to pass a turd but in the most adorable way possible. “And we take care of our people. So, if you’re gonna be part ofthat—and I think you are or you will be or whatever—then we need to know you’re good for him, that you make him happy and treat him right and all that.”
Chase stared at Jacks for a few heartbeats, his gaze softening in a way I’d come to understand meant genuine affection for our resident puppy. “I try,” he said. “He makes it easy.”
“Good. Because if you didn’t, I’d have to—” Jacks paused, thinking. “I don’t know what I’d do, talk to you sternly. I’m not very threatening, but I’d try to be . . . for him . . . you know?”
I had to turn away to hide my smile.
Through it all, I kept catching Chase’s eye, checking on him, making sure he wasn’t drowning. Every time, he’d give me this small smile—this “I’m okay, I’ve got this” smile—and my own tension would ease.
At one point, Benji asked if Chase had ever been in love before, and Chase fumbled the answer badly enough that I jumped in.
“Benji, easy. Give the poor guy a break,” I said.
“I’m just asking questions!”
“Good questions,” Priya said.
“They’reinvasivequestions.”
