Rialto (Unbreakable Bonds 8)

“And the kitchen is twice the size of Lucas’s old one. Plenty of room for you to work.”

Ian sighed happily. Lots of counter space. Double oven. Large range with a water spigot for soups. He’d seen the plans and it really was a dream kitchen, which was ridiculous because Andrei and Lucas rarely cooked.

Ian loved his house and he did like his kitchen for most small home projects, but when it came to cooking for his family, there was never enough counter space. If and when he and Hollis found a new place, it was going to have a much larger kitchen. It was his one and only requirement.

“Did I hear someone mention Thanksgiving?” Rowe chimed. In one hand, he clutched a heavily mounded plate. Ian wanted to laugh. That man was not going to be moving later. He could easily imagine Rowe stretched out on the big leather couch in his office, sneaking a nap in. Probably wrapped around a snoring Noah.

“We’re planning to have it at Lucas and Andrei’s this year because there isn’t enough room at my place,” Ian replied.

“Does a bigger kitchen equate more grub?”

“We’re not hiring a forklift to get you back out of the house,” Andrei muttered before stepping in line to fill his plate.

“Noah and I would just move in until we could leave on our own,” Rowe said.

“I haven’t thought about the menu yet.” Ian grabbed a plate and piled a little of the salad and duck ravioli on it. He wasn’t hungry, but he knew that Rowe would badger him until he ate something. “My main concerns have been the new restaurant, our foster parent classes, and Snow’s wedding.”

“I thought you said you weren’t planning Snow’s wedding,” Noah said before shoveling a forkful of ravioli into his mouth.

“I’m not…officially.”

With his plate in hand, he followed Rowe and Noah up to Rowe’s office. Once there, Rowe grabbed some bottles of water out of the mini fridge he had tucked in the corner.

“What does that even mean?” he asked as he handed Ian a bottle. “Not ‘officially’ planning the wedding.”

“It means that while Snow is content to take charge of his wedding and supposedly make all the decisions with Jude, he’s still texting me every day with these crazy questions. Last night, he was asking about location weddings and if I thought Mykonos was better than the Seychelles. Like anyone wants to blow an entire day changing from one plane to the next, trying to get to a wedding. This morning, he was asking if it was unrealistic to ask people to drive an hour from the site of the ceremony to the reception because he found this interesting place deep in Kentucky for the ceremony.”

“He’s out of control,” Rowe grumbled. “He texted me pictures of china patterns two days ago. China. Fucking. Patterns. Like I know a damn thing about china and place settings for weddings!”

“Have he and Jude picked a date yet?” Noah inquired.

“No!” Rowe and Ian said in unison.

“They can’t make up their minds,” Ian continued. “One minute they want a fall wedding, and then it’s a winter wedding in a tropical location. Then it’s spring, but they don’t want to do any of the usual spring wedding things.”

Rowe grabbed his bottle and cracked the seal on the cap. “I thought Lucas and Andrei were bad with postponing their wedding.”

“Yeah, but once they finally settled on a date, Lucas and Andrei were good about making quick decisions and sticking to them.”

“Only because they were having sex every time they signed a contract or handed over money. Twisted fucks.”

“It was romantic! They were excited about starting their new life together.”

“There is one important thing we haven’t even discussed yet,” Noah said, stopping their complaining. “The bachelor party.”

Rowe nodded solemnly. “True.”

“You can’t plan that until you know when the wedding is,” Ian argued.

“We can at least start the brainstorming,” Noah replied.

Rowe speared a vegetable and pointed it at Ian. “Your bachelor party was amazing, but I think we really need to make Snow and Jude’s epic. I don’t think anyone ever expected Snow to settle down, so we need to make it massive.”

“What? Vegas?”

Rowe shook his head at Ian’s suggestion. “There’s a big security conference there next year, and I can’t risk getting banned from the city before that.”

Ian closed his eyes and fought back a groan. Rowe was dead serious. He truly believed he would get banned from the entire city of Las Vegas if he had a bachelor party there. Ian was pretty sure he was right.

“We could do Tahoe. Or Atlantic City,” Noah said.

“Miami,” Rowe said slowly, lifting both of his hands into the air. “Beach. Nightclubs. Gambling. Those cool airboats on the Everglades.”

This time, Ian did groan. One of their drunk asses was going to get eaten by an alligator. It would be amazing if they all made it to the wedding.