All In With Him (Men of Summer 3)

Owen arches a brow and points to Grant, then Declan. “Wait. You two were involved when you were on the same side?”

Grant brings his finger to his lips. “Shhh.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Owen says, then shoots me a demanding stare. “But, River, why didn’t you tell me that?”

I roll my eyes. “Because you didn’t need to know.”

“But I definitely would have wanted to know,” he says.

I pour Grant a Diet Coke, then continue on my rant. “As I was saying, you two found each other, and meanwhile, I meet, like, literally all the out, queer men in San Francisco and I am still single,” I say, staring at them like my romantic diet is all their fault.

Well, it feels like someone’s fault.

Hell, I’d like to find out who’s responsible for the drought in my love life.

I hand Grant the soda. He clears his throat and tilts his head toward Owen. “Hello! He’s out and cute.”

“I’m more than cute,” Owen says, squaring his shoulders. “Matt Bomer, eat your heart out.”

Owen’s not wrong. But . . . that’s beside the point. “Please. Owen and I are friends,” I tell Grant.

Owen lifts his drink. “Friends don’t bang friends,” he seconds.

“Exactly.”

“Well, since you’re ‘friends,’” Grant adds, sketching air quotes, the devil that he is, “maybe you should do that Friendsgiving thing that Owen was just talking about.”

My brow knits. “What?”

Owen gives me an exasperated look. “I mentioned it before you went off about Grant’s luck at the man buffet.”

“Right, I heard you. My what was more like Grant, why are you suggesting we go to Owen’s Friendsgiving together?”

Declan’s eyes sparkle as he answers. “Because you’re friends. Isn’t that what Friendsgiving is for?”

I turn my gaze to Owen, challenging him. “Well, you haven’t invited me.”

Owen laughs, then leans closer on the bar. “I guess we’ll see if I do.”

My longtime friend lifts his scotch, knocks some back, and sets down the glass.

I spend the rest of the evening, wondering whether he’ll invite me. If he does, I’m pretty sure I’ll say yes.

37

Grant

Next year

We celebrate Christmas and the new year in Tokyo, like we planned, indulging in fish and noodles, singing karaoke, checking out teahouses and temples. We spend time with Cyndi and Tyler, as well as Tyler’s son, his wife, and their daughter.

We don’t even miss Declan’s dad’s wedding because he never proposed to Tricia.

Can’t say I’m surprised. Given what Declan’s told me about his father’s romantic history, as well as how he met Tricia, I wasn’t expecting much to come of Jon’s plans.

But I am glad that my fiancé is managing his father just fine. Jon Steele is coming to our wedding next month, after all.

We didn’t want to wait. Plain and simple. On the flight home from Hawaii, I asked Declan when he wanted to get hitched.

“Tomorrow?” he’d said.

And he was serious.

Mostly.

But a Vegas wedding isn’t for us. We both want family and friends around us. We picked February so we can tie the knot before baseball season.

In early January, as we wander along the streets of Shibuya, the shortstop—my shortstop—squeezes my hand. “How does this ring thing work?” Declan asks, lifting my hand to show off the engagement ring he gave me, which looks just like a dude’s wedding band.

“Huh. That’s a good point. Since we have them already.”

“Do we get another band for the wedding? That seems weird.”

“I bet there’s a website somewhere with the answer.”

Declan sweeps out his free hand, like he’s lighting up a marquee, his voice booming like a carnival barker. “Get your gay wedding questions answered here. Step right up.”

Then he downshifts to a more studious tone, humming thoughtfully. “Do we have two best men? Like Holden and River? Best women, like Reese and Emma? Also, who gives who away?”

I rattle off my answers. “Same rings. What if we just have friends of the grooms in the wedding party? And how about we walk down the aisle together?”

He stops in front of a pachinko parlor, yanks me against him, and drops a kiss to my lips. “Brains and beauty. Sold.”

A month later, in a simple ceremony at an art gallery in the marina, that’s what we do, walking in, side by side.

Our friends flank us as the justice of the peace reads the vows: Reese, Holden, River, Crosby, Chance, and Owen, as well as Declan’s buddies from New York—Emma, Fitz, and Dean.

My grandparents are here, along with Cyndi and Tyler, and Declan’s father too. Other Cougars and Dragons fill out the guest list—Sullivan, Miguel, Gunnar, and Dante, as well as my college friends Tia and Layla.

There’s no liquor served, and Cyndi promised to keep an eye on Declan’s dad to make sure he doesn’t cause trouble.

But I’m not thinking of anyone but the man I’m marrying.

The justice of the peace asks me, “Do you, Grant Blackwood, take this man to be your husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him in sickness and health, for as long as you both shall live?”