Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
IVEY
Dinner ran for hours, well past midnight, with bottles of wine magically appearing on the table until there were more bottles than people…twofold. At some point, Brooks had moved down closer, and he and Dalton had been talking about God knows what for what felt like a lifetime. The whole time, Dalton never let go of my hand beneath the table, and I traced my finger across his wedding band like a nervous habit.
Flynn was the first to excuse himself, with Rose looking like he was dead on his feet. Barclay and Val went next, though they retired to a well-worn leather couch in front of the lobby fireplace instead of their room. Tate and Dylan were best friends, I found out, so the two of them waited as long as they could before begging to take Brooks and Alex back to their respective rooms. Brooks and Dalton hugged to say goodbye, which caught me off-guard, but when Dalton reached out to shake Alex’s hand, I almost fell over entirely.
“It was good to see you again, Carter,” Alex whispered when it was his turn to say goodbye to me. “Don’t be a stranger, alright?”
I swallowed hard. “Alright.”
“Come stay at the farm,” Ford said, hooking his arm around Alex’s neck and jostling him out of the way. “You can bring your husband.”
“We’d love to,” Dalton said, his shoulder pressed against mine. “Thank you.”
We said goodbye to Brooks and Tate, Alex and Dylan, then Ford and Boston. Kale and Christian had Irish goodbyed themselves at some point, which left Dalton and me with Rob, Grayson, Archie, and Owen. The room cleared out and Rob pushed his chair back from the table enough to stretch out his legs and cross them at the ankles.
“You have good friends,” he said to me, approvingly.
“They’re pretty okay,” I agreed.
“You definitely married up, though,” Grayson said, drinking whatever drops of wine were left in the bottom of his glass. When it emptied, he smacked his lips and frowned. Rob took the glass out of his hand and set it on the table.
“I think that’s our cue,” he said, helping Grayson up from the table.
We told them goodbye as well, then the four of us stood with our own sets of wobbles and groans. Archie and Owen said goodbye, then Dalton and I followed behind them, making a stop in the lobby to say our final goodbyes to Barclay and Val.
We made it back to the quiet of our room just before one-thirty in the morning, and even after Dalton latched the deadbolt, my ears refused to stop ringing.
“Are you happy?” he asked, sliding his arms around my waist and dropping a kiss against my shoulder.
“So happy.”
“Good.”
“Are they all here for the whole weekend?” I asked.
Dalton worked his jaw back and forth, digging his chin into my shoulder. “In varying degrees. I don’t have any other plans for you, so we’re free to do whatever we want until it’s time to go back home.”
I turned in his arms, flinging my hands up over his shoulders and tangling my fingers into the soft hair at the base of his neck.
“This really is a great anniversary,” I told him. “I would have been happy to spend it just with you?—”
“But they’re part of this too,” he finished for me, a knowing smile dancing across his mouth. “In their own way.”
Dalton brushed his mouth against mine, a tease of a kiss that had me chasing after his mouth for more. He chuckled against me and walked us both backward to the bed, and when we landed, I was immediately grateful that, at some point, the sheets had been changed.
“What must they think of us?” I asked as he rolled me onto my back, notching his hips between my thighs.
“Truly horrible things,” he whispered against my lips. “What kind of man drinks champagne and cum from his husbands asshole?”
I covered my face with my hands, laughing up at the ceiling as Dalton dragged wet and sloppy kisses down my throat.
“I want you so badly, but there is no way my body will cooperate.” He lifted off of me and rolled onto his side, propping himself up one hand so he could smile down at me.
As soon as my head hit the pillow, the wine caught up with me, and I had to blink hard to force both versions of Dalton back into one. I reached up to touch his cheek and my hand fell against thin air. He laughed at me and kicked off his shoes, then sat up at the foot of the bed and took mine off for me. I focused on breathing while Dalton stripped me out of my clothes, then I turned my attention to the bronze of his tanned skin once he bothered to get out of his own. I used my awkward and drunk feet to push the blankets down, and Dalton crawled under the sheets beside me, wrapping his arms around my chest and holding me so tight against him it was hard to breathe.
“I love you,” he whispered against the back of my neck. “I love you so much, Carter Emerson Fox.”
I softened against him, a yawn taking all the energy I had left.
“I love you too…Sir. Happy anniversary.”