Mark, probably.
Group sugar daddy that he was.
“You do get a kiss,” I said, leaning down to give him a slightly softer peck on the lips. “And you know you’re getting more,” I said, echoing what he’d told me earlier.
Hayden lit up, smiling up at me in the light of the bonfire as I toweled off.
Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was because we’d had a great day, or maybe it was because of the big knot offeelingsI was carrying around in the pit of my stomach, but he was beautiful tonight. Still so alive and animated, so far from the exhausted man I’d first met who, like his dad said, looked fifteen years older than he actually was.
He didn’t anymore. This Hayden was hours away from turning thirty, and he didn’t look a day over twenty-five.
He was still cuddling the otter, too.
“Did he ever get a name?” I asked, nodding to the toy.
“Otto,” Hayden said, holding it up for me to inspect like a little kid. The glint in his eye told me he knew what he was doing, that he wastryingto be cute.
Lucky for him, he was succeeding.
“Hey, Otto,” I said, accepting the toy and hugging it close to my chest by way of greeting. “You have a very important job to do,” I said. “You have to take care of Hayden for me. Make sure he doesn’t start overworking the second my back’s turned. Okay?”
Hayden snorted as I passed Otto back to him, but settled the little stuffed toy back into his lap without a moment’s hesitation.
Beer and snacks broke out, laughter and stargazing and prodding the fire—which Seth was as protective of as a momma bear with a cub—filling the night.
Around us, the rest of the crowd ebbed and flowed—families with little kids started leaving, but not before stopping by to stare at Hayden and Mark’s sandcastle, which they were still working on periodically.
Seth found a feather to use as a flag, and I found a piece of driftwood to serve as an ancient, gnarled, dead tree. We decided the place was haunted, but Andre stopped us before we could dissolve into telling ghost stories around the fire, because he hated ghost stories and he pulled a lot of late shifts alone these days.
As empty beer bottles collected in bags that we were responsibly going to haul up to the recycling point in the parking lot, Hayden let me snuggle up to him, spread out on the borrowed rug, looking up at the stars.
“Thank you,” he murmured, running fingers through my hair.
“For?” I asked, snuggling closer, not about to miss a single ounce of affection tonight.
“Everything,” Hayden said. “For introducing me to your friends, for not giving up on me when I jumped on you, for trying my awful ice cream…”
“Challenging ice cream,” I said, smiling at him. I’dalmostforgotten the taste.
Almost.
“Challenging ice cream made by a challenging man,” Hayden agreed. “Thank you for handling the challenging parts. Not many people would’ve.”
“You’re not so bad,” I said, curling my fingers into his t-shirt, our legs tangling together as I shuffled closer. “And you’re more than worth it.”
Hayden laughed as he kissed me, and for a split second I thought the fireworks going off were in my head—but then I remembered that there were actually meant to be fireworks. That was what we were here for.
“Happy birthday,” I murmured against his lips, shuffling closer again.
Hayden grinned at me, bright flashes of color lighting up his eyes.
My heart tumbled out of my chest and straight into his hands.
I loved him.
I hadn’t meant to do it, but there it was. I’d gone and fallen in love with him.
“You’re missing the fireworks,” Hayden said, so close his lips brushed against mine.
