Maurice leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Only reason I’m letting you up is because I’m hungry too.”
Finn stretched like a cat, sheets twisting around him. “Fine. But we’re getting back in this bed later.”
Maurice nodded. “Good. After we’ve done lunch at Fisherman’s Wharf.”
He sent David a message to meet in the lobby in an hour, then the two of them showered and dressed.
Maurice ordered a car for all four of them, and as soon as they piled in, the driver pulled away from the curb and slipped into the flow of San Francisco traffic. The city moved around them in bright, messy colors—cable cars clanging up steep streets, murals splashed across brick walls, the loud, unapologetic art that made Maurice feel like he could breathe a little easier. Even the sourdough smell drifting from a corner bakery hit him with a weird comfort.
It had been years since he’d last been here. He hadn’t expected the memories to hit so fast. Back then, he’d been a teenager wedged between his brothers in the back of his parents’ government-issued SUV, all of them in matching Marine family jackets like they were part of some unit he’d never quite belonged to. His mother had marched them through the city like it was another base to conquer—tight schedule, no wandering, no complaining. He remembered staring out the window at the rainbow flags and the street performers and thinking, God, people get to live like this? Out loud?
His brothers had teased him the entire trip, calling him soft, calling him weird, calling him anything that wasn’t Marine material. His mother hadn’t corrected them. She never did. Respect was something you earned in that family, and apparently you earned it by wanting the same life they wanted. Maurice never had.
Now, riding through the same streets with Finn beside him, it felt different. Like the city had shifted. Or maybe he had.
They reached the wharf, and the air hit him immediately: cool, salty, alive. Gulls circled overhead as if they owned the place, squawking at tourists and swooping low over the water. Maurice stepped out of the car and took a slow breath, letting theocean breeze push the old memories back where they belonged. This time, he wasn’t the odd one out, and he wasn’t alone.
They found a table outside overlooking the water. Boats bobbed in the harbor, and the Golden Gate peeked through the fog as if it were posing for them.
“This is amazing,” Finn said, leaning back in his chair.
“It’s surreal, four of us sitting here in San Francisco,” Theo said, his voice filled with wonder.
“It can get even better,” Maurice said. “David and I live pretty close to each other back home. If you and Theo end up in Virginia, you two won’t be far apart either.”
Theo perked up. “Really?”
“Really,” Maurice said. “You’d have a built-in friend.”
Finn nudged Theo. “See? We wouldn’t be alone.”
Theo grinned, some of his earlier nerves clearly fading.
As they waited for their clam chowder in the sourdough bread, Finn cleared his throat. “So… I signed up to be in the Pride Parade while we’re here.”
Theo’s head snapped toward him. “You did? I want to do it too!”
Maurice and David exchanged a look, one of those silent, mutual agreements between two men who had absolutely no intention of getting on a stage in heels or glitter.
“Not for us,” Maurice said, shaking his head with a laugh.
“Definitely not parade material,” David added.
“But we’ll watch you both. Front row. Drinks in hand,” Maurice said.
Finn lit up. “Really?”
“Of course,” Maurice said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Theo bounced a little in his seat. “This is going to be so fun.”
Maurice looked at the three of them—Finn glowing in the sunlight, Theo buzzing with excitement, and David relaxed for once.
Their lunch arrived, and they spoke little while eating.
“This is so good,” Finn said.
They all agreed.
