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I blinked at him for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say.

Tristan found his voice first, pulling his hand from mine to cross his arms over his chest. “You’re lying.”

Jason shook his head. “It wasn’t me. I’m not sure who would’ve done that—”

“Oh, that’s fucking convenient,” Tris barked out.

“—but I promise, it wasn’t me. That’s way out of line.”

I crossed my arms, mirroring my boyfriend’s stance. “Why should we believe you? You caused trouble at my bar, with my friends, and when I kicked you out, you threatened revenge. And then when we saw you last month, you threatened me—us—again. So forgive me, Jason, but I don’t believe you.”

Jason’s eyes flicked from mine to Tristan’s then back again. After a moment of taking in our unmoving postures, his face fell further. “That’s . . .” He took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself. “That’s fine. But I am sorry.”

“Leave, Jason. You’re not welcome here.” Tris’s words were harsh but absolutely appropriate.

Without another word, he nodded once, turned around, and slinked off.

Only once he was out of sight did I feel like I could breathe again. What the hell was that about? There’s no way he wasn’t the one who called the inspector.

. . . Right?

Tristan turned to me, uncrossing his arms and reaching for both of my hands so he could hold them between us. His eyes searched my face. “Are you okay?”

I took a deep breath, glanced at our rainbow-festooned surroundings to get my bearings, then turned back to him with a tentative smile. “I’m getting there. Thank you for standing up for me.”

“Always, Daddy.” He reached up to plant a chaste kiss on my lips. “You don’t believe him, do you?”

Dropping Tris’s hand, I ran my fingers through my silver-flecked hair. “I’m not sure. It doesn’t make any sense—the timing is too coincidental—but . . . do you?”

Tris frowned. “I don’t want to, but he seemed pretty sincere.” He huffed. “I don’t know what to believe, but I’m not sure it matters. Rowan said they knew someone had called in false infractions, but he said they never found out who, right?”

I nodded. “Right. Since the inspector dropped the whole thing once he got wind of the cops getting involved, Rowan never got anywhere when he tried to dig deeper. But somebody did this. Jason seems like he’d have connections, but something about it doesn’t sit right with me.” I sighed. “Doesn’t mean I’m letting that fucker anywhere near my bar until at least October. And if he comes around then, I’m keeping my eyes on him.”

Tristan nodded as a couple approached the table. “As you should.” He smiled, greeting the attendees before shooting me a grin and introducing me as the owner of Mix It Up. I poured them a couple of our choice IPAs and ran through my normal spiel, including handing them a bright and cheery rainbow-colored flyer that Ben had created for a special week of extended happy hours immediately following the event. He’d insisted it would be a good marketing strategy, giving people an easy next step to engage with us, and so far, the response had been overwhelmingly positive.

Whether we’d see an influx of customers because of it remained to be seen, though the interview he’d set up for me with a local news station back in April had brought in a ton of customers for weeks after it aired, so I suspected we would. Ben knew what he was doing; he was proving to be worthy of his salary and then some.

I thought a raise might be in his near future.

The rest of the event passed without further incident, and Tristan, Ben, Gio, and I packed up the tents and tables before storing them all in Mix It Up’s back room. Ben had been working behind the scenes today, keeping our tent stocked with a selection of beer throughout the event, and he’d promised to manage things tonight as well so I could celebrate my fiftieth birthday with my friends.

Definitely a raise, first thing next week.

***

My birthday party at Mix It Up was an overwhelmingly happy occasion spent with my boy and our friends. Jack and Julian showed up as well, and Tris took a liking to Jack’s partner as soon as they were introduced. My boy snatched Julian away and kept him busy from then on to dance and laugh and be free with the other boys of the DASC. Was Julian a boy, too? I couldn’t be sure—Jack hadn’t said anything.

But my face hurt from smiling so widely at the end of the night.

By one am, I was exhausted but exceedingly satisfied. With Tristan in my bed for a “typical round of kinky birthday sex”—his words—I was a happy quinquagenarian. A word Tristan had looked up on his phone after a few drinks and had teased me with for hours.

I listened to Tristan’s breath evening out as sleep took him while I reflected on the past year. What a difference a year made. This time last year, I was moaning to Jack about not being able to find love. Turned out, love had been right in front of me the whole time.

I was a little disappointed that Tristan wasn’t ready to tell our friends about us, but I could understand why. Despite our breakthrough a month ago, I knew trauma didn’t heal overnight, and parental, not to mention relational, trauma often cut the deepest. I was head over heels in love with him, and that wasn’t going to change, even if we had to hide our love forever. I’d hate it, but I’d do it for him if that’s what he needed.

I recalled the idea I’d had earlier today to invite Tristan to move in with me. I desperately wanted to—would do it in a heartbeat—but if Tris wasn’t ready to share our relationship with our friends, I didn’t see how he could explain moving himself and all his things into my home.

I honestly wasn’t sure how he’d kept our relationship from Cameron all this time as it was. We hadn’t really talked about it since last month, and that realization gnawed at me. Was he really all in this like I was? Or was I just kidding myself?