Billie meets my eye. She looks like she’s about to cry, and I cough to clear my throat. She’s worked her ass off, and I’m not lying—I know she’s going to impress me even more now that she’s taking over.
I give her a smile and a nod. “Couldn’t have done this without you. Without every one of you,” I say, looking at all the artists, then turn my eyes to Drew. “Or you.”
“Fuck,” Red growls. “I think we broke Caesar.”
“Someone get him a tissue!” Billie adds, and the whole group busts out laughing, myself included.
That’s how I know I really have found my people. They’ll let me get soft, sure, but they’re still going to give me a hard time about it, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Cake time!” Rafael says brightly, and the conversation quickly rolls on.
I lean back, still holding Drew’s hand. He leans against me, and when I glance down, I see the bright, wide smile on his face.
“Thanks,” I grumble.
“You don’t hate it?” he asks. “I thought you might hate it at first, but like it later.”
“I don’t hate it,” I tell him. “Good to see everyone…” I almost addone last time, but that’s not true. I’ll see them all plenty still, maybe even more now that Drew’s dragging me out of the house once a week.
Life has been sweet since he moved in, easy and good. I love all the ways he challenges me, the fact that he’s not scared to push me. But it’s the quiet moments that really matter, time spent working together, lying in bed after a sweaty round of fucking, watching a movie on the couch while Grace plays on the floor.
“Lucky to have you,” I growl, then take him in a kiss.
“My softie,” he coos, then kisses me on the nose.
“Damn,” Joey mutters as he walks past, a big piece of cake on his plate. “Worse than me and Milo.”
I pull Drew to my side and growl, which earns another laugh from everyone.
“Oh gosh,” Rafael says, looking at his phone. “Alexander needs me to help at Joystick.”
“We’ll head over soon,” I say. “I’ll haul the last of the junk over.”
Drew clicks his tongue. “Oh no you won’t. We’ve got all the details worked out. Your job is just to get ready.”
I look down at myself. I’m in my cargo shorts and an old Blade T-shirt. “Who isn’t ready?”
Drew laughs. “It’s a grand opening, Caesar. Time to shine.”
* * *
Drew
I smooth down the front of Caesar’s collared shirt, fussing with the buttons. He stands at full height, frowning and fidgeting, but still indulging me.
We’re in the center room at Joystick, the meeting point between the small tattoo shop in the front of the store and the cavernous arcade that fills the garage in the back. Caesar’s friend used to run a motorcycle garage out of the place, and when he announced his retirement, Caesar snatched up the location for his business.
Our business, a unique combination of arcade and tattoo shop. His and mine. It’s taken me a year to fully accept it, but all of this is ours—our house, our business, our life.
We’re choosing it together, building a life on our own terms. And since the first night I got back to Chicago and laid my head on his pillow last summer, I’ve just become more certain of it every day.
Caesar fidgets and tugs at his collar. “How do people fucking breathe in these straightjackets?”
I laugh. “Caesar, honestly, I didn’t even button your top two buttons.”
He stretches his arms out. “Can I even play pinball in this clown costume?”
“Don’t worry,” I tease. “I won’t try to get you to dress up again until our wedding.”
