Incandescent

Before I could dispute the idea, they started toward 7th Avenue, Jeremy looking relieved, and I watched them for a minute before turning toward the Stonewall Inn. Taking a deep breath, I swung open the door and stepped inside, noting the plaque on the wall commemorating the riots.

It wasn’t lost on me that I was officially inside my first gay bar.

The interior was a bit dimmer but well-maintained, with wooden tables, stools, and an area to play pool in the center of the bar. It wasn’t very crowded for a weekday, but I counted about a dozen patrons, none of whom paid me much attention.

I stepped closer to the bar to look at the shirts hanging along the back wall.

“Can I help you?” the bartender asked. He was an older guy with a friendly smile, and it made me wonder how many tourists they catered to on a daily basis.

“I wanted to buy a couple of T-shirts for my kid and his boyfriend.”

Wow, that felt surreal to say out loud but also pretty fucking good.

“Sure.” He grinned. “Just give me a couple of minutes to get them from the back room. Feel free to have a seat in the meantime.”

I slid onto a stool at the end of the bar and just soaked it all in—not only the bar but the entire day. Pretty damned cool.

A swath of light alerted me to the door opening behind me, and when I turned, I saw Marc approaching. I took a moment to appreciate how devastatingly handsome he was as he closed the distance between us.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked in a flirty voice as he sidled up beside me.

“Depends,” I replied, playing along. “Can I buy you a drink?”

He winked. “Only if it’s good bourbon.”

“Coming right up,” I said, patting the seat beside me. Suddenly staying for a drink sounded like a hell of a good idea.

“Are you looking for a hookup tonight?” he asked as he sank down beside me. “I’m game if you are.”

I groaned under my breath. “It was your idea to splurge on a stupid suite.”

Marc had reserved a large enough space for all of us, with two bedrooms and baths as well as four queen-size beds, likely so we didn’t give the kids the wrong idea about expectations. We may not have brought it up directly, but by now, Grant knew that Marc and I shared a bed when he stayed over, and I certainly understood that Grant and Jeremy were not so innocent either.

“We can be quiet,” Marc said against my ear, and I shivered.

When I turned to meet his eyes, his fingers connected with my nape, and he leaned forward to kiss me. I stiffened briefly before remembering where we were. And fuck if that didn’t feel great. To kiss my boyfriend in the middle of a bar.

“You two are sweet,” the bartender said as he returned with a box of shirts. “Can I get you a drink while you choose which you’d like to purchase?”

“Please,” Marc said, then proceeded to order us a couple of bourbons, neat.

By the time I chose the shirts and sizes, our drinks had been served.

Marc held up his glass. “To us and our future.”

I smiled as I clinked my glass against his. “A future that involves you moving in with us? Maybe even this summer?”

It was something we’d discussed in very general terms, without putting a date on it—and, of course, I’d run it by Grant first, something Marc had insisted on. Along with the idea of updating more of the house.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his eyebrows practically to his hairline.

“I am. I want you with me.” I squeezed his hand. “Always.”

“I want to be with you too, Lane.” He kissed my cheek. “Always.”

We never said the word forever to each other, our past wounds still too fresh. We knew there were no guarantees in life and that you could lose someone you loved in the blink of an eye. But in my soul, I knew we meant until death did us part.

Maybe we’d even make it official someday.

“And Grant?” His tone was hesitant.

“He’s so excited, he can barely contain himself. I’m surprised he hasn’t already asked you himself.”

Grant had admitted the idea also helped alleviate his fears that I wouldn’t be so alone. I told him I’d be fine regardless, but his concern was sweet, really. We didn’t argue nearly as much, but we still had our moments.

Marc’s grin was so radiant, it lit me up. “Then it’s settled.”

I clinked his glass again, and we relaxed in our seats and sipped our drinks.

There was some laughter and singing behind us, and when I looked over my shoulder, a couple of women were locked in an embrace in the middle of the floor.

Marc stood and held out his hand. “Dance with me?”