All that time meant he knew himself with an uncomfortable level of detail. People thought him oblivious, but Evan could diagram every emotion and reaction he had down to the root cause.
Nothing happened without checking on that diagram.
Asking Matt to marry him was probably the most spontaneous thing he’d ever done. He tried to scrutinize it, come up with a reason for the secrecy, and all he could come up with was…
Mine.
Just one word. It was maddening, unreasonable—this purely selfish feeling coursing through his veins. He felt almost giddy with delight, carrying his secret around like a prize. Evan found himself checking his face in the mirror. Was he smiling too much? Did he look ridiculous?
He distracted himself with the change in the weather, upcoming holiday conversations beginning to crop up over the dining room table.
During dinner at Jim and Griffin’s house a few weeks later—over steaks and far too many bottles of red wine—Evan listened to them discussing their wedding, wiping his mouth every time he feared the urge to smile like a crazy person. Matt seemed outwardly fine with it all, throwing out jokes about penguin suits and offering to have the getaway car revving in case Jim changed his mind.
“You’re just jealous,” Griffin said, leaning against Jim’s shoulder. They’d been affectionate all night, touching and smiling, sharing quiet moments that started to ping Evan’s radar.
The engagement wasn’t new. The easy display of love wasn’t either. But the spark and crackle between them spoke of a secret of their own.
“We have most of the details worked out, but the actual execution—Daisy said she’d take care of it since we have other things to worry about,” Griffin said as they were scraping the last pieces of chocolate cake from their plates. God, their housekeeper created magic with sugar and flour and forty pounds of butter.
“I’m giving Daisy a credit card and free rein,” Jim muttered as Griffin petted his head and made soothing noises. “On purpose.”
“Why? Why would you do that?” Matt asked, leaning back in his chair. “Griffin has forty-four sisters and a hundred and eleven nieces. They can probably whip up something in a week. You may have some money, trust-fund baby, but Daisy’s used to gold toilets. You’re going to end up getting married on the moon.”
“There is so much to unpack there, Matthew. I’d start with the idea only the female members of my family could plan an event.” Griffin shook his head, but Evan picked up on the slight flush on his cheeks.
“What are you two going to be working on?” he asked finally, and was rewarded by the bashfully delighted grins Jim and Griffin exchanged.
A wordless conversation commenced; Griffin nodded and Jim rolled his eyes with a grin.
“Okay—this is for your ears only. Just the parties involved have the poop, and Daisy, because she is my platonic life mate…,” Griffin began, sitting up straight in his seat while still holding on to Jim’s shoulder.
“Nosy,” Jim interjected. “She’s nosy and currently emotionally compromised. She basically lives here.”
Griffin gave him a slight shove. “Shut up, she’s going to be fine.” He cleared his throat. “We can’t finish planning a wedding because we’ll be busy with more important things. My sister Farrah has agreed to be our surrogate. We’re uh—having a baby. Officially.”
Matt’s arms went over his head to call the touchdown of his life; he knocked over a half-empty wineglass getting up, then pulled Jim out of the chair to give him a lung-busting hug. Evan felt his entire face cracking with a smile as he got up a little less exuberantly to congratulate Griffin.
“I had a feeling something was up,” Evan said, giving Griffin a tight hug. “You looked like you had a secret.”
“The best secret! I mean, we said we were going to have a baby, but now it’s officially official, with a doctor and a schedule because we have a date to start fertility treatments. I want to tell everyone. I’m in the grocery store like, ‘Hey, these apples are great! My sister is having my baby! Or rather my future husband’s!’ But that sounds so… bad reality TV!” Griffin bounced a little as he pulled out of Evan’s arms. “So yeah, that’s our news!”
“You’re going to be wonderful fathers.” A profound gratitude settled into Evan’s bones: he and Matt deciding to get married, their friends having a child. He felt the satisfaction at a cellular level. “And I think it goes without saying, we are always available for babysitting.”
“When the baby is out of diapers, of course,” Matt added smoothly as he finally released Jim from his grip and moved over to do the same to Griffin. “And can eat wings without assistance.”
“You’re an idiot,” Griffin said fondly before being swallowed up into Matt’s excited hug.
Evan dodged the lovefest and ducked around to where Jim was standing, looking slightly rumpled from Matt’s congratulations.
“Exciting news,” Evan said, unsure of going for a handshake or a hug or—
Jim spared him the internal strife, offering his hand. “Thank you. We’re not really spreading it around until things are a done deal and Farrah has passed the three-month mark.”
“Of course, of course.” The handshake tapered off, and Evan made an impulsive decision to pull Jim a bit closer for a one-armed hug. “It’ll be nice to add another little one to the family.”
When Jim pulled back, he offered Evan a slight nod and a curious expression.
“That wine was great,” Evan murmured, feeling self-conscious, like Jim had taken his attempt at casual affection as an invitation to probe Evan’s mind. “But whew! Not used to it.”
“I’ll put on some coffee.” Jim looked over at where Matt was holding Griffin in a sleeper hold as the younger man flailed. “Haight, don’t break him. I refuse to go through all this to find another model.”
Matt dropped Griffin onto the floor. “Like… a model model? Someone taller, I assume.”
“He likes young, but not children. They’re all like eleven! Besides, I’m already house-trained,” Griffin said, indignant, as he got up off the floor. “You’re all insane. Except Evan. He’s an adult.”
“He’s ninety-seven on the inside.” Matt winked, then blew Evan an obnoxious kiss.
“I’m going to make coffee. Evan, you’re in charge of these two.”
As soon as Jim left the dining room, Matt and Griffin shared a look both mischievous and charming.
“Whatever it is, no.”
“IT” TURNED out to be champagne, which Evan said yes to.
THEY SETTLED into the guest room since tomorrow was Sunday, no one had to work, and they really did put away a lot of red wine.
Matt couldn’t wipe the ridiculous smile off his face. He stripped down to his boxers and bounced into bed, nearly upending a texting Evan in the process.
“Everything is fine at home. Danny set the alarm and locked the back door. He and Elizabeth have movie plans with friends tomorrow,” Evan reported as he put his phone on the nightstand. “Jane’s mother is driving them.”
“Thanks for the report.” Matt snuggled down next to him, moving his hands under the cover to tug Evan closer.
“You’re in a mood.” Evan let himself be pulled, which made Matt incredibly happy.
“A great mood, an amazing mood.” His hands wandered to the band of Evan’s boxers.
“We should have driven home,” Evan murmured, but he didn’t push Matt’s hands away.
“I don’t need to be home to do this.” He shut Evan’s further protestations off with a kiss—quick, dirty, and lots of tongue—sucking and biting until he could feel Evan’s erection pressed against his hip as they rolled back onto the bed.
The kissing worked for a few minutes, but Matt wanted more. He wrenched his mouth away as long as it took to yank Evan’s boxers down just enough to get a hand on his dick.
Evan snickered against his shoulder, punctuating it with a mild bite.
Matt’s brain divided itself between jerking the hard l
ength in his fist exactly the way Evan liked it, and a reminder to ask what kind of wine they had, because hell, he liked the results.
“You want…,” Evan started to say, then arched his back as Matt got impatient, speeding up his strokes, tightening his grip as he went back to ravaging Evan’s mouth. His palm grew slick as Evan began to rock up against him.
“I want this.” Matt smirked, unrelenting as he jerked Evan off. Every twist and turn gave Matt the chance to rub his own hard-on against Evan’s hip. Long and slow and thorough had its place, but right now Matt just wanted to see Evan lose his fucking mind.
“Oh shit,” he muttered, eyes closing as he leaned forward. Matt wrapped his free arm around Evan’s shoulders, stroking until his arm hurt and Evan spilled over with a long, low moan.
Matt licked up the side of Evan’s neck, then dragged his wet hand over his future husband’s stomach, taking full advantage of this rare pliability.
“Stop that,” Evan said, falling back against the pillows, flushed and smirking.
“I don’t want to mess up the fancy sheets.” Matt instead used Evan’s chest to wipe his hand off. He made it to right between his nipples before Evan grabbed his wrist.
“You’re pushing your luck.”
Matt waggled his eyebrows as he rubbed his as-yet-unrelieved dick against Evan’s hip. “Are you going to scold me? Spank me a little?”
“I drank a lot of wine, I didn’t suffer a head wound.” Evan seemed to realize what he was smeared with, his face scrunching up.
“I love it when you talk dirty.” Matt rolled over halfway to grab the tissue box off the nightstand. “Here, expensive tissues. They’re probably made from angel wings.”
Evan took half the box to clean himself off while Matt impatiently rutted against his side.
“If you throw these tissues away, I’ll return the favor.”
“If you return the favor with your mouth, we won’t have to worry about more tissues,” Matt volleyed back, wriggling out of his boxers in a second flat.
Matt waited for the ceremonial rolling of the eyes or Evan’s veto, but the wicked grin he got in return made him want to invest in whatever winery produced that elixir.
Tossing the tissues on the floor, Evan rolled over on top of Matt with what might be called a growl.
“Very practical,” he said. “I like practical.”
Matt put his hands on Evan’s shoulders, giving him a gentle push as he licked his lips. “I like it when you’re sucking my dick.”
“Romantic.”
“So romantic.” Matt choked on his words as Evan slid down between his legs, making sure every inch of their bodies touched.
“So romantic,” Evan echoed, licking Matt root to tip.
God bless red wine.
HEAD STUFFED with cotton and mouth tasting like the floor of an old Chevy, Matt wandered out of the bedroom far too early for his liking. He’d woken up with a start and then couldn’t get back to sleep. Didn’t old people wake up super early? Was he old now?
“Put on pants, Daisy and Sadie will be here in five,” Jim said as he walked by Matt in the hallway. Matt blinked at him blearily. Jim in tight black workout clothes, faintly smelling of sweat, appeared as if a mirage.
“What?”
“We do Sunday breakfast with Daisy and Sadie, so put on pants,” he repeated slowly. “Pancakes and bacon, lots of coffee.”
“I love you, even though you’re a psycho who exercises on a Sunday morning,” Matt muttered, ducking back into the bedroom. “You drank as much as we did!”
He debated a shower and settled for a quick wash before putting his clothes from last night back on. Evan snored loudly in the bed, worn out from their drinking and sexual escapades, which ended up including a hand job, a blowjob, and some pretty spectacular follow-up frottage. Maybe he wasn’t old.
Matt stood up a little straighter. Nice work there, Haight, he thought.
The guest bathroom touches were clearly Daisy’s influence: new toothbrushes that looked as if carved from wood, citrusy-smelling deodorant, shaving stuff, and towels that felt like clouds the color of café au lait. Classy aftershave he could never afford. He patted some on his face before whistling out the door in anticipation of coffee.
“Hey, Evan, wake up,” he whispered loudly, shaking his future husband—future. Husband—on the shoulder. “Breakfast.”
Evan grumbled, eyes still closed as he tried to tug the covers over his head. “Go away.”
“You know they have expensive bacon,” Matt said in a normal voice, then followed up with a loud smacking kiss against Evan’s cheek.
“Where… what?” Evan came around slowly, blinking and licking his lips as if tasting the vague wine hangover.
“We’re at Jim and Griffin’s. There’s food downstairs. Oh, and Daisy and Sadie.” Matt got off the bed, slapping Evan on the ass for good measure. “Come on. I love you, but I’m not missing my coffee for much longer.”
“Go. I’ll be down in a few.” Evan sat up slowly, grabbing his head as he moved. “Any chance they’re also serving aspirin?”
“Probably fancy aspirin too. From France.” Matt dropped another kiss onto Evan’s head. “Don’t be long.”
Evan’s response was just a moan as his face smacked back into the pillow.
HALFWAY DOWNSTAIRS, Matt started to smell breakfast. Heavenly, beautiful breakfast—coffee, frying pork, and who needed more than that?
He also heard squealing.
“My goodness, is that Miss Sadie?”
The auburn-haired toddler spotted him as he came around the corner and began to clap her hands together delightedly.
“I was hoping to get her fed before you showed up,” Daisy said as she sat at the table with a bowl in one hand and a spoon of oatmeal in the other. Both she and Sadie were dressed in navy hoodies and pale blue sweatpants—though the baby’s outfit was accessorized with a bib. “She’s distracted by other children.”
“This hangover is not kid-approved, believe me.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek before doing the same to Sadie.
“You boys are terrible influences on each other.”
“I happen to know you can drink Griffin under the table,” Matt responded as he headed for the magnificent coffee maker chugging away on the counter. “You need a refill?”
“Always.”
“Sadie could drink Griffin under the table,” Jim said.
At the giant six-burner stove, Jim manned several sizzling frying pans, a spatula in each hand. The sweaty clothes were gone, replaced by jeans and a black sweater. Ninja health nut, Matt thought.
“Where’s my kiss?” Jim asked.
“With your future husband, I’m guessing. I could slap your ass if you want.”
“Language!” called Daisy.
“A-s-s.”
“Yes, you are.”
“This is fun. We should live on a commune together. You, me, our menfolk, Daisy and the wee child, our kids. Your kid.” Matt grabbed the full carafe on the counter and one of the enormous white cups stacked next to it.
Jim side-eyed him so hard Matt only half-jokingly winced.
“No?”
Daisy hooted from the table.
“What say you, Daisy Mae? Wanna move to Queens and be my sister-wife?”
Griffin stumbled into the kitchen wearing Kermit the Frog pajamas, glasses, and hair askew. “What the hell did I walk into?”
“Matt’s being chippy,” Daisy said as she tried to tempt Sadie into eating more oatmeal, but the toddler shook her head, preferring to focus on the adults.
“Too loud,” Griffin muttered as he plunked down into a chair. “Good morning, sweet Sadie.”
“Niff,” she said adoringly.
Matt refilled Daisy’s cup, then sacrificed his own for Griffin.
NEWLY POURED cup of coffee in hand, Matt resumed his place leaning against the counter as the scene of domestic bliss played out before him. He basked in the pleasure of his extended family. The banter
and the smiles. Wasn’t too long ago when they were all in various states of sadness. Hopelessness. Separation, literal and figurative. He remembered hiding out here during the fights with Evan, Jim and Griffin’s relationship full of tension with Daisy and Bennett’s marriage going to shit.
Not everything was fixed, nothing was perfect, but Matt couldn’t help but feel they’d passed some sort of test. Jim and Griffin’s baby. Marrying Evan. The kids growing up. It was all coming together.
“What the hell is that look on your face?” Jim asked, reaching across the counter for an empty platter. “Do I have to throw out the sheets?”
“Hmmm? Yes. And I might have to buy you a new mattress.” He sipped his coffee, batting his eyelashes at Jim over the rim. “I definitely recommend getting rid of the washcloth in the hamper.”
“I’m going to have to hide my child from you people once she starts understanding innuendo,” Daisy sighed.
EVAN TOOK a long hot shower in the guest bathroom. The rainfall fixtures, the towel heater—he’d been in less luxurious hotels.
“I have bathroom envy,” he muttered to himself as he toweled himself off in front of the fogged-up mirror.
The threatening hangover abated by the shower, Evan brushed his teeth slowly, his thoughts drifting to last night. At some point he expected for sex to get boring, routine. Even the best sexual relationships had to dull at some point.
Right?
Then again—and he was loath to compare—he and Sherri didn’t want for wanting. Slow spots could be blamed on children and work and stress, not a lack of desire. So maybe even someone like Evan, slow to rev up and incredibly selective as to who did the revving, could enjoy a robust sex life.
Maybe even a thorough rubbing off in their friends’ guestroom led to feeling a little punch-drunk the next day.
Forever & Ever Page 2