Chapter 3
LOUIS
My cheeks were flushed, and I wasn’t sure if it was due to being overheated or from imbibing too much champagne. I’d always been a sucker for the bubbly even though it typically went straight to my head. But it was a wedding after all, and when in Rome . . .
I took another sip as I surveyed the guests filling the small space.
Hayden and Jonathan had chosen to marry at their remote cabin, insisting it was tradition.
After all, it was where they’d first fallen for each other after being trapped there together in a snow storm, and later where Jonathan had proposed.
I agreed that it was pretty damn romantic, but the size of the space meant that even with a smaller, intimate wedding including only immediate family members, there was barely room to move.
It was also roughly eighty degrees in here.
“What are you doing standing over here in the corner? Nobody puts Louis in the corner!” Hayden approached, holding out a fresh glass of champagne for me to take. I drained the rest of my current glass, then gladly accepted the fresh one.
“Ordinarily, I would agree, but this corner is next to a wall of drafty windows, which I desperately needed for fear of overheating.”
“You could try losing the jacket and loosening up the tie.” He gestured toward his own shirt, open at the collar with the first two buttons undone.
Hayden and his husband Jonathan had worn matching black-velvet suit jackets, though Hayden’s pocket square and tie had been red while Jonathan’s had been green.
I had no doubt it had been Hayden’s idea as a nod to the upcoming Christmas holiday.
Something so corny wouldn’t be Jonathan’s style, but he was an absolute simp for anything Hayden wanted, and had no doubt put up very little argument.
I wasn’t sure when he’d discarded the items, though.
Likely sometime after their first dance.
I gave a mock shudder. “Absolutely not. It took me a week to perfect this ensemble for tonight, and I refuse to take it off until the night has come to an end. Although I’m sure I’ll be removing the items myself, since it doesn’t seem like any of your guests are up for the task of doing it for me.”
He laughed, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “My apologies for not having any gay singles on the family tree.”
“Apology accepted,” I said, readjusting my glasses with feigned haughtiness. “I don’t think you could have fit one more person in here anyway.”
“You’re so full of shit,” Hayden said, chuckling, and I broke the facade, laughing along with him—though I had meant every bit of what I said about choosing my outfit.
It had taken me a full week of hopping from store to store after work to find the perfect tie.
I took great pride in my appearance, as any gay worth his salt should.
“You never told me why you were late,” Hayden said, changing the subject.
“I wasn’t that late . . . but if you must know, I managed to make it up here without my toiletries and didn’t discover the oversight until I was already in the shower.”
He gasped in dramatic fashion, no doubt mocking me as he clutched my forearm with his free hand. “What did you do?”
“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” I said, brushing his hand off my arm. “I borrowed from the gentleman next door.”
His eyebrows rose. “Mid-shower?”
I did my best to ignore the flush rising into my cheeks. “If you must know, yes.”
A laugh burst out of him, causing several people to turn and look at us. “Will you stop it? It’s not that funny.”
“It’s hilarious,” he said, oblivious to the stares around us. “Who was the neighbor? Remind me where you’re staying again.”
“I didn’t catch his name, but I’m staying in the space above the hardware store. Found it on one of those vacation rental sites.”
He thought for a moment, then his brows lifted. “Next to the bookshop? That’s Matthew Mahoney’s place.” A cloud passed over his usually sunny expression.
“What? What’s that look for?”
“Matthew’s a widower. His wife passed a little over a year ago from cancer. Super nice lady. The whole town closed down for her funeral. Everyone loved her.”
I frowned, looking down at my champagne. That would explain the gruff manner he’d exhibited this afternoon. Or perhaps he’d been grumpy because a man dressed in nothing but a towel had been pounding on his door in the middle of the afternoon. Hard to say.
“Sounds like a sad situation,” I offered lamely. What did one say to something like that?
“It was. And Matthew’s always been a little gruff, but he’s definitely been worse since her passing.
Not that I blame the guy. I can’t imagine what it’d be like if I lost .
. .” His words trailed off as his eyes sought out his newlywed husband.
Jesus, what a terrible topic of conversation for a wedding day.
“Excuse me. I just need to . . .” Absently, he handed me his empty glass before making a beeline directly to Jonathan, where he pulled the man away from a conversation and kissed him soundly and without preamble.
A round of cheers went up from all the guests assuming it was simply the action of a man freshly married to the love of his life.
A lump formed in my throat while a knot twisted in my chest. I wasn’t jealous.
I wasn’t. I was happy for them. Jonathan had always been a bit of a miserable asshole, but he’d been utterly unbearable after his divorce to that witch of a woman, Rebecca.
He been cold and closed-off, but Hayden had opened up something inside of him.
The metamorphosis had been a pleasure to see, not to mention making for a much more pleasant work environment.
Jonathan had become more than just a coworker.
After years of working together, he’d finally become a friend, and by extension, so had Hayden.
So yes, I was truly happy for them, and I was honored they’d asked me to officiate at their wedding. But their happiness also served as a stark reminder of just how alone I was.
It wasn’t that I didn’t date, it was just that the club scene that had been such an exciting part of my twenties had given way to dating and hookup apps in my thirties, and now, two years into my forties, I was tired of it all.
The performative nature of it was exhausting, and the thought of a drunken fuck in some disgusting club bathroom was enough to have my champagne threatening to come back up.
Scrolling through dating apps, swimming in a sea of headless ab and ass pictures, finally thinking you’ve made a connection with a guy only to be spammed with dick pics, was nearly as bad as the image of the club fuck.
I wanted connection. Companionship. Sex, of course, but I wanted intimacy and vulnerability along with it.
I wanted love.
I looked down into my now-empty glass, shaking my head at the morose turn of my thoughts.
Today should be cause for celebration, not a pity party.
It wasn’t about me. I took a deep breath and released it, doing my best to shake off the sad vibes, and after pasting a smile on my face, crossed the room and rejoined the party.