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“Hey, Polo.” Bastian broke into a smile and crouched to give Polo a good long rub. “Are you being a good boy?”

That was enough for me to recover from what I hoped to god was just Bastian’s costume. He looked all wrong dressed…normally. It didn’t matter how well the suit fit, it didn’t fit.

“Whoa! What’s going on here?” Chase asked as he came over to join our group. He was dressed as zombie Babe Ruth and carried an old wooden baseball bat.

“Marco brought his dog with him as part of his costume,” Brian said, a quirky smile pulling at his mouth as he glanced back to Bastian, who was still crouched and petting Polo.

“Yeah, that’s totally not what I was talking about,” Chase said. “You look…I don’t even know what you look like,” he told Bastian.

Bastian stood, though he somehow didn’t look as tall as usual without his red hair and one of his eclectic black coats. “I thought I’d try something different,” he said. “I am a businessman, after all. It might be nice to fit into the community for a change.”

My gut twisted. This was my fault. Bastian wasn’t just sporting a fun costume for the party. He’d transformed everything about himself to fit into a persona that matched what people probably expected of him.

He’d changed the most fundamental thing about himself for me. Or at least for my business.

It wasn’t what I wanted at all. For once, I couldn’t look at the bright side or laugh at what he’d done.

“You look….” I still couldn’t form my thoughts into words.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” none other than Stanley Heuston walked over to our group with a nasty grin. “I’ve never approved of grown-ass men dressing up in costumes like kids, so it’s nice to finally see someone who⁠—”

He stopped when he realized who he’d just complimented.

“Stanley,” Sam greeted the man with a nod and a frown, crossing his arms over his neon pink body suit. “I see you’ve come in your usual costume of grumpy old man.”

Stanley was too busy gaping at Bastian to be offended. He raked Bastian with a wide-eyed look, then snapped his mouth shut and humphed. “I stand corrected,” he said. “You can dress in a suit all you want, but you’re still the town freak.”

All the breath rushed out of my lungs. I didn’t understand how anyone could be so callous and cruel.

“That’s enough of that, Stanley,” Sam scolded him.

“What? I’m just saying what everyone already knows,” Stanley defended himself.

“You’d better keep your lips zipped and stop insulting my friends if you want to continue to have a place at Common Grounds’ game nights,” Sam warned him.

“I’ll have you know,” Stanley started, raising one hand to point at Sam.

He didn’t get any further than that. “Right. You’re officially uninvited from the party, Stan. Out you go.” Sam gestured for Stanley to head for the door, then escorted him out when he made a fuss as he left.

“Can you believe that guy?” Chase asked, flabbergasted.

“Yes,” Bastian said glumly. “Yes, I can.”

He pushed himself into motion, walking away from me. He started for the door at first, like he was going to leave the party, but Stanley was arguing with Sam in the doorway. Bastian changed direction and headed into the backroom instead.

“Is there a door out the back in there?” I asked, suddenly alarmed that the one person I’d wanted to see most, at the party and in my life, was trying to leave.

“There is,” Brian said, “but it’s locked and no one really uses it.”

That wasn’t enough for me. Bastian was hurt, and I hadn’t helped the situation by being so shocked at his appearance. I couldn’t let the man I could see myself together with in the long term walk out because of one cruel comment.

“Come on, boy,” I told Polo, then tugged slightly on his leash so the two of us could go after Bastian.

CHAPTER 10

Bastian

I’d had no idea I would be blindsided by Stanley like that. My reaction was way over the top, caused by raw childhood trauma that slammed me out of nowhere. It sparked a bad memory in me. I’d been eleven, eating my heart out over the way the other boys in my class had been making a game of not letting me sit at the lunch table with them, and I’d dressed in the same jeans, t-shirt, and ballcap get-up that they wore on weekends, even though it’d been against the school’s dress code.