Hand in hand, they walked into the space. High soaring ceilings and Italian architecture greeted them, along with the quiet murmur of the crowd. A small band played jazz standards in the corner.
Three hundred or so supporters of the Gay Officers Action League mingled under dimmed lights, sipping cocktails and writing checks.
Matt generally liked the GOAL crowd. No one gave him shit about his own difficult dealings with the NYPD, and at least a few of the younger officers thought he was some sort of folk hero.
That was nice, he wasn’t going to lie.
And the fact that Evan had joined the group first, that Evan served on a committee—that Evan was holding his hand as they walked into the ballroom…
Well, he loved this fucking group like crazy right now.
“Drink?” Matt asked as they navigated the tables, looking around to see where to start. A long row of prizes sat sparkling and inviting under the lights, with folks putting their raffle tickets into huge champagne glasses next to each.
“No. Let’s just get some tickets. I’m feeling lucky tonight,” Evan said, keeping Matt close as they reversed course.
Matt laughed delightedly. “Me too.”
They chatted as they moved along the prize table, hip to hip, dropping tickets here and there. Matt put a handful of little red squares in the glass for a trip for two to Paris, waggling his eyebrows at Evan.
Evan shrugged. “I’m sure if you asked Bennett, he’d send you.”
“Sure. But the point is you and I going to Paris. Alone. Without working.”
Evan’s expression got subdued for a second, and the smile that followed didn’t seem to help the chill that fell over the evening.
“WHAT’S WRONG?” Matt finally asked. Evan had a club soda and Matt a beer; they’d found two empty seats at a back table, right next to an expanse of high windows that provided a view of the river and the bridge. He moved his chair closer to Evan’s side so their bodies touched; Evan’s stiff posture softened a little, and he looked up, his expression serious.
“You’re okay with our lives, right?” Evan asked finally, breaking the pregnant pause between them with six words.
Matt shook his head as if to clear his previous assumptions about what Evan had to say. Being too sexual in public, he’d thought. Maybe. Evan’s boundaries had relaxed over time, but before—that was wild for them.
He wasn’t expecting a wider spotlight.
“Of course I am.” Matt leaned into Evan’s space, grabbing his hand. “Of course. Where the hell is this coming from?”
Evan started to shake his head, opened his mouth as if to say something, but the moment shattered as Matt heard someone calling for Evan.
Casper Vaughn, in a slick black tux, was walking across the floor toward their table.
Evan brightened as Casper got closer, and Matt found himself irritated by the smile on his boyfriend’s lips. Weren’t they just having a serious conversation? Why did the appearance of Casper Vaughn grind everything to a halt?
Standing, Evan extended his hand, and Matt watched a friendly handshake turn into a half hug.
He stood up so fast his chair almost tipped over.
“Matt, you remember Casper, right?” Evan said, stepping back so Matt could offer his hand, presumably.
Matt put his hands in his pocket, just because yes, he was that much of a dick.
“Matt, of course.” Casper pulled out a chair and sat down without an invitation, and Matt decided he was also a dick and rude to boot. “Wow, what a night.”
“Everything looks great. I bet you’re relieved it’s over.” Evan sat down as well, and Matt finally followed suit—after pushing his chair so close to Evan’s he was pretty sure there would be damage to the wood.
“Casper’s the chair of the committee,” Evan said to Matt, and Matt pretended to care.
“Yes. Been working on this pretty much nonstop.” Casper made a hand gesture, then shrugged. “Not like I have anywhere else to be.”
Evan made his sympathetic face. “You should try going out once in a while,” he said. “I know they have some bar crawl thing—Jesse mentioned it at the last meeting.”
“That’s not really my scene. Twentysomethings in skinny jeans drinking microbrews—no, thank you,” Casper said dryly. “I’m looking for something a little different.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Evan laughed. “Just—go out.”
Matt watched their conversation like a Ping-Pong game, then realized Casper was without a very specific accessory: his boyfriend.
Then the exchange made sense.
Sense that Matt didn’t like at all.
CASPER STUCK around longer than Evan expected, but he understood. Everyone here was still looking over Casper’s shoulder for Tony, and every single glance was a reminder of something lost. He got it—got it too well. So he didn’t mind when Casper shadowed them from the table to the bar and then went with them to stand by the pillars to listen to the winners of the raffle being read.
Matt sulking—and throwing down beer after beer—Evan chalked up to their night of hedonistic behavior being temporarily halted so he could cheer up a sad friend.
Evan fully intended to cheer Matt up once they got home.
“THANK YOU,” Casper said as they stood on the sidewalk. It was midnight, and the rest of the party milled about, saying their own good-byes and hailing cabs. Matt nodded at Chris Callas and her wife, then Jesse and his husband, who didn’t notice as they made out from the front door to the waiting taxi.
Kids. Lucky them.
A “bar in a basket” nestled in his arms, Matt waited for Casper to finish his sad-sack sighs and disappear. Evan was nodding, touching his arm. Matt wanted to throw the vodka bottle he’d won at Casper (what the hell kind of name was that anyway?), then grab his boyfriend and escape back to Brooklyn.
Another hug and Matt felt his blood pressure notch up. Casper gave him a half smile, like he had just remembered Matt was standing there, before heading to the cab line forming along the sidewalk.
“Oh hey bye,” Matt called to Casper’s back.
Evan moved to stand directly in front of him so he couldn’t see anyone else. “Hi.”
“Well, that sucked.”
“You won vodka,” Evan said, patting the cellophane monstrosity. “Most of our friends are drunks, so that will be put to good use.”
“You’re chipper.” Matt made it sound like it wasn’t a good thing.
“I sobered up and we’re going home to an empty house—why wouldn’t I be chipper?” Evan took a breath and leaned in for a kiss. A very public kiss, with tongues and everything. Matt opened his mouth to deepen it, letting Evan’s tentative push become something very, very dirty.
When Evan pulled back, he had a ridiculously proud grin on his face. “Let’s go home.”
THEY WERE in bed an hour later, everything discarded for “tomorrow” as they fell onto the mattress in a heap. Evan kept trying to move, but Matt wasn’t having any of it. It still felt surprising when they were like this, like Evan the Alpha Male just dropped and rolled over like… like every terrible slur he’d heard in the almost fifty years of his life.
But even with the rough hands and filthy litany pouring from Matt’s mouth, nothing felt as safe as Evan holding on to the sheets for leverage as Matt pounded their bodies together.
Chapter 8
“SO AUGUST 1,” Matt said, carrying the box of cameras into the elevator of Bennett’s building. He and Jim were there for the next-to-last phase of the security build-out—the offices of a rich guy who made movies and bankrolled plays was more secure than the fucking White House.
“August 1.” Jim leaned against the elevator wall, carrying a tray of coffee and all their blueprints, neatly housed in a portfolio. “You got plans?”
Matt smirked. “I’ll clear my schedule.”
“How do you feel about taking on a job?”
“You need security for a wedding?” Matt said tea
singly. He knew what Jim was going to ask, but it didn’t hurt to make him work for it.
“My God, you’re an asshole.” Jim got a little pink as he shifted from foot to foot. “Wanna be a best man?”
“I feel like I’m already—”
“Okay, I’m done. I’m asking anyone else in the world but you.”
Matt threw his head back and cackled.
“Seriously.”
The elevator opened and they got out, jostling each other’s shoulders.
Their crew was spread out, already working. Matt dropped the box of cameras at their central workstation, some empty cubicles that would eventually house interns in the fall.
Jim handed out coffees to the two supervisors of the crew, Eddie and a new freelancer named Alex.
“It’s like a broad shoulder parade in here,” Matt said as he walked up to join the trio. “We should be lifting heavy things instead of installing tiny cameras.”
Eddie smirked. “You sure about that? At your age—”
“Shut up.” Matt and Eddie had had a running thing about age since the day Eddie realized he was born the same year Matt graduated high school.
“Concerned about your brittle bones, there, boss,” Eddie said, all innocent as he picked up the blueprints on the desk. “You need a nap or anything, you just press your panic button—”
Matt flipped him the bird and everyone laughed.
Jim and Matt went up to the second floor, where they’d already installed the security system.
“Well.”
“Well what?” Jim was flicking through his phone, not looking up.
“Ask me again, properly, please,” Matt said sternly.
Jim cleared his throat before glancing up. “Matt, you incredible asshole. Will you be my best man?”
Matt rubbed at his eyes, sniffling dramatically. “Yes, Jim. Yes.”
Jim kicked him. Hard.
On the second floor, the receptionist, Hilary, greeted them politely.
“Bennett in?” Matt asked.
“He’s, um—he’s got someone in there right now. Mr. Lowry.”
“Oh, well that’s fine.” Matt started down the hallway with Jim behind him. “He’s a friend of ours.”
They got halfway there when Bennett’s door opened and hit the wall with force. Matt stopped, surprised at the vehemence of the slam.
Shane stepped out of the office, red-faced and angry in a way that Matt had literally never seen. Lighthearted and charming, Shane always had a smile on his face, was always the guy breaking up bad moods and bad moments, the perpetual clown.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” Shane spat as if no one was in the hallway. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
He turned, saw Matt and Jim, and visibly put himself back together. Or at least tried.
“Hey, guys, sorry,” Shane muttered, then pushed past them as he strode down the hallway and out the door.
No one said anything; Matt felt frozen to the spot, trying to decide whether to follow Shane to make sure he was all right.
Bennett stepped into the hallway, white-faced and clearly enraged. “What?”
Matt rocked back on his heels, trying to find his way through a completely unfamiliar conversation with a man he considered to be his friend. “Is everything all right?”
Bennett waved his hand, gripping the doorway with the other. Sweat dripped down his face, a scowl planted there. “It’s none of your damn business. Go finish the installation,” he snapped, cold and rude.
“Excuse me?” Matt’s hackles went up. This wasn’t their relationship—business never got in the way of their friendship, and Bennett had never acted like an asshole before. This wasn’t the way Bennett talked to him. Ever.
“I said go finish the fucking installation. That’s what I pay you for.”
“Hey,” Jim started to say, but Bennett tore back into the office, then pulled the door closed with such force that something on the interior wall tipped over and crashed.
Part of Matt wanted to kick open the door and tear Bennett a new one. No one talked to him like that. Ever. Especially not someone he considered a friend. Whatever fight he and Shane had, Matt wasn’t involved.
“What the fuck was that?” Jim asked behind him, just as bewildered, judging by his tone.
“I have no idea.” Matt turned around to find a wide-eyed Hilary and Amy, Bennett’s assistant, standing at the end of the hallway looking shocked.
This wasn’t Bennett’s normal behavior with anyone.
“We should….”
Jim held up his hand. He already had his phone to his ear.
THEY WENT back downstairs to check on the work. Eddie had everything in hand; it was more an excuse to duck into an empty office to talk.
“Griffin said he hadn’t heard anything from Daisy, nothing the matter as far as he knew. They just had breakfast this morning,” Jim said, sitting on a desk and shaking his head. “She seemed fine.”
“Evan said he talked to Helena briefly—nothing to add.” Matt paced the small office, kicking bits of plaster littering the floor on each pass.
Jim shrugged. “So he’s probably having a shitty day and he’s taking it out on everyone. You saw Shane.”
“Yeah. I saw Shane. You ever seen Shane without a smile on his face?” Matt did another turn. “He looked pissed. He’s never pissed. I didn’t think he had that setting.”
“They’ll figure it out. Bennett will apologize. Probably buy you a boat to show how sorry he is,” Jim said dryly. He dropped his empty coffee cup in a tiny garbage can, currently empty despite the construction crap all over the room. “Let’s finish this job. I have things to do back at the house.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Matt ran both hands over his hair and kicked his final piece of ceiling. “Let’s get out of here.”
An eyebrow raise from Jim at the utterly unprofessional idea coming out of Matt’s mouth. “I thought….”
“Eddie can handle it. We’re gonna go get lunch, charge Bennett’s corporate account, and then head home early. I gotta start working on my best man toast.”
Jim laughed as he stood up. “You’re only allowed to say ‘fuck’ twice and you can’t mention we had sex that one time.”
Matt pulled a pout. “Well, there goes my reading during the ceremony.”
“I DON’T like this guy sniffing around Evan,” Matt said as Jim was about to put a dumpling into his mouth.
It dropped off his fork and back onto his plate. “Excuse me?”
“This guy—PR douche bag. We know him from the gay cop organization, and he’s just—I don’t know. He and his boyfriend split and all of a sudden it’s ‘oh hey me and Casper had lunch’ and ‘oh Casper’s texting me,’” Matt bitched, stabbing at his egg roll with a knife.
Because he valued his life, Jim didn’t laugh.
He wanted to. But he didn’t.
“You think Evan might….”
Matt rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t think Evan would even notice some guy trying to get into his pants. That’s not the point.”
“So the point is no one should find your boyfriend attractive?”
“I mean—this guy has nerve, to be putting the moves on someone clearly in a committed relationship,” Matt said with a huff.
“But Evan won’t do anything.”
“No.”
“So your issue is someone thinks your boyfriend is attractive.”
Matt scowled. “Shut up.”
“He doesn’t have any exes for you to be jealous of,” Jim said delicately. “At least no one to worry about coming back into your lives. So this is new for you.”
Matt threw his napkin at Jim’s head. “I have a shrink for shit like that. As my friend, you’re supposed to agree this guy is a douche bag and offer to hit him for me.”
Jim turned a laugh into a cough. “Right. Okay—that.”
“You are no help. Literally.”
“Matt, you can’t say any of this to Evan.” Jim speared the du
mpling again and enjoyed the moist combination of lamb and cabbage as Matt stewed across the table.
“Why not?”
“Because your closest male friend is someone you’ve slept with,” Jim said gently. Quietly. “And Evan behaved badly toward me, which hurt your feelings.”
Matt’s face twisted into something angry and resigned. “He’s never slept with the douche bag.”
“And he won’t.” Jim poured them both more tea. “You know that, I know that. The only person who might not understand that is this guy—”
“Casper.”
“Casper? Jesus, that’s a douche name.”
“I know!”
“Casper might sniff around Evan, and he might be less than a real friend, but that isn’t your business. My future husband is best friends forever with someone who once almost ruined his career. I can’t say anything. We share a life, but that’s… she’s his. I’m part of your life. Evan—Evan tolerates me.”
“He likes you,” Matt argued.
“Now.”
Leaning back in his chair, Matt nodded. “Now.”
“Now he trusts me. Now he’s okay with us being friends and working together every day. He trusts you. You have to give him the same courtesy.”
Matt blew out a dramatic breath, then leaned back over the table. “Fine. I hate you for being rational.”
“If you tell Griffin this story, he’ll come up with an elaborate plan to put Nair in the guy’s shampoo bottle, like he’s James Bond at summer camp,” Jim pointed out as he forked another dumpling. “So that can be your backup plan.”
Chapter 9
THE TABLE was set for four—reset after dinner for two. Elizabeth and Danny ate plates of pasta at six, with Matt and Evan hanging around the dining room to chat about the day. A rare lazy Saturday turning into a Sunday—maybe a movie, maybe the park for a bike ride. It was quietly domestic, and Evan felt himself relaxing for the first time in two weeks.
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