Epilogue #2
“I reckon I was never as attached as he was.” And that wasn’t weird, considering Max had used our community to try to find his identity. “Either way, we’re glad it’s over and done with, and we were talkin’ about joining one of those munches after the holidays.”
“Why wait till then?” He wiped burger condiments off the corner of his mouth. “We’re hostin’ one the first weekend of December.”
I shook my head and swallowed a mouthful of food.
“We’re heading up to New York to visit my son.
The little shit tried to cancel Thanksgiving because he’s busy with school, so we compromised.
He’ll come down for the dinner, and he’ll spend the night.
Then Max and I will head up to spend a few days with him. ”
It’d be a nice extra vacation, and we’d have plenty of alone time while Dylan tried to catch up. Poor kid had begged his professor to let him redo a project he’d failed by misunderstanding the task. I’d had half a mind to call the professor myself.
“It’ll be nice,” I said. “Gives me a chance to restock his fridge and freezer too. I don’t think he’s had a single home-cooked meal up there.”
Reese shook his head. “Fuck New York.”
“Amen.” I reached for my soda and took a swig. “So, what prompted this lunch invitation today?”
I mean, Reese and I were close enough to call each other buddies, but we usually only met up for a quick beer together here and there.
He smirked and shifted his attention to his fries. “I saw you lurkin’ around our online community and figured, there’s a Sadist whose input I want for our next year’s monthly events.”
I chuckled. “I highly doubt that. The number of stories I’ve heard about your themed events over the years…? Monthly challenge, monthly game, monthly class. What’s the name for next year?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he replied. “Didn’t Old Town run a similar event one year called The Presentation?”
I half nodded, weighing my answer. “Yeah, but we didn’t have a competition component. In the end, fewer members showed up, nobody wanted to contribute as dungeon monitors, and everybody just complained about one thing after another.”
Reese nodded and threw some fries into his mouth.
“Corey and Lane may have mentioned it. But what if we turned it into a competition? What if we took that idea of giving dynamics tasks every month, and they have a couple of weeks to complete them before they give their presentation? What if we did this in a community with two hundred active members instead of forty? And in a location with more space than an attic.”
I scratched my jaw and thought about it.
No doubt, they could make that event much better.
Max and I had come up with the idea together, and we’d admittedly wanted a portion of the event to include some kind of challenge or contest, but we just hadn’t had the space for it.
Or members who gave a shit. They wanted a whole lot without lifting a finger.
“I say go for it,” I said. I took another bite of my burger. “Y’all have members who invest time and energy in the community. That makes all the difference.”
“Which includes you and your man soon, right?” He gave me a pointed look.
I chuckled. “Trust me, buddy, we’ll be there soon enough.”
“Fantastic.”
The following month
“Does this mean we’re done Christmas shopping?” I asked. “Because that would work for me.” With the PlayStation gift card for games, a new phone, stocking stuffers, and now this M it was New York, not some Podunk town in Arkansas.
But at least the apartment he was sharing with four others meant he had his own room, and that was what mattered.
I wanted him to be able to close the door behind himself, whether he needed privacy to study in peace or he simply wanted his shit to himself.
“We might almost be done,” Max settled for saying. “I still have to find something for Monica, and I’m not done shopping for you.”
Well, that was his problem. I had set my credit card on fire on before we’d taken the train up to New York. Monica and Arianna were getting a new subscription to a wine club, and I’d had Alex’s help with picking out a gift for Max’s parents.
“The important part is that I’m done,” I replied.
Because fuck the holiday retail chaos. My Christmas was supposed to be filled with relaxation, barely leaving the house, winter barbecues on the roof, Arianna coming over to decorate because she claimed I sucked at it, and spending a shitload of time in bed with Max.
“Aren’t you sweet.” He smiled wryly and slipped his hand into mine.
I grinned and threaded our fingers together.
Next stop, Olive Garden. Dylan’s request. He was meeting up with us there.
It was a short walk back to the thick of Times Square, probably the last place on earth I wanted to spend my December, and within minutes, we were seated at the Olive Garden there.
Nice table, a tad secluded, with no view of the hustle and bustle happening one story below.
We opted to sit next to each other so Dylan could sit across.
“What’re you in the mood for, darlin’?” I eyed my menu.
“You.”
Well, hey. I glanced over at him and smiled. “You’ve gotten so good at saying the right things.”
He chuckled and leaned in, and I kissed him.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” I kissed him once more.
We ended up holding our order but got the drinks and salad out of the way, so I had my mouth full of bread when Dylan showed up ten minutes later. Cheeks flushed, parka wet from the rain.
“Nothing makes me appreciate the Metro back home like the subway in New York,” he huffed and sat down. “Damn circus.”
I soaked that up. I could admit I’d initially been a little nervous about him possibly falling for New York and staying once he had his degree. But yesterday, he’d mentioned wanting to look into getting his master’s closer to home.
“Did you hand in your project?” Max wondered.
“Yeah, at long fucking last,” Dylan replied. “I have one more exam next week, and then I’m coming home for the holidays.”
Music to my ears.
When the server came back, we placed our orders for a week’s supply of pasta, and Max asked for more bread sticks too.
Maybe I’d eaten his.
“By the way, can we talk about somethin’ that’s weighing on me?” Dylan asked, filling his plate with salad. “It’s about you two being together now.”
I lifted my brows. Should I be worried?
“Of course. Is something wrong?” Max asked.
“That depends,” Dylan said. “Are you gonna buy Christmas presents and birthday gifts separately or together? Because as a poor college student, I’m kinda banking on the sweet deal we already have, where Dad tries to fix everything that’s broken in my apartment, and Uncle Max spoils me rotten with gift cards. ”
Jesus fucking Christ, he had me nervous there for a while. “You absolute punk. I thought you were gonna have an actual issue with us.”
Max exhaled a chuckle. “Me too.”
Dylan knitted his brows together and stuffed his face with salad. “No issues, just hunger and poverty, Dad.”
I laughed and shook my head. “We can do something about that, don’t you worry.”
I’d already seen the collection of gift cards Max had picked for him.
“Thank you.” Dylan looked genuinely relieved, so I made a mental note to check in on him up here more often.
I was the one who’d asked him not to find a second job, because I knew he struggled with concentration at times.
He picked up shifts as a bike messenger here and there.
That was enough. “I gotta take a leak. Don’t eat my bread stick, Dad. ”
What the fuck? They were free. We could order more.
He was gone before I could respond, still busy chewing on salad and bread, and I got the feeling he planned on filling up on that so he could bring most of his pasta home.
“I didn’t know things were that dire,” Max murmured, concerned. “Didn’t he say last night that he’d ordered something for Alex?”
Yeah… I scratched the side of my head. While Dylan was happy for Max and me, my son’s personal happiness came from solidifying the roles between him and Alex. They’d viewed each other as almost brothers for years, and this made things more official.
“I think we should add a few more gifts,” Max said resolutely. “I’ll go with gift cards, and you get him one of those prepaid Visa cards. And maybe they can be early gifts, so he’ll have something to tide him over until Christmas.”
Not a bad idea at all.
“Figures. I’d hoped I was done shopping.”
He snorted and went back to his salad. “I think you’ll survive a trip to the nearest 7-Eleven, sweetheart.”
“You don’t know that. This is New York.”
The following summer
I understood and appreciated that Mclean House was a great kink community, but two things could be true at once. Because it was also a spectacular place to come to after work, just to chill by the pool with your man and have a beer or two.
Max and I weren’t the only ones who did it either.
A handful of brats were playing a game in the pool, River and Reese were in the sunbed next to ours, Colt and Lucas were preparing the grill for a barbecue on the deck, and Ty and Lane were playing cards at one of the picnic tables.
Judging by Lane’s cursing, he wasn’t winning.
“Cannonball!” Corey yelled and jumped into the water.
I twitched as some water droplets landed on my stomach.
Damn brats.
“What about September?” Max yawned and sat up next to me.
These double sunbeds were genius. I’d dozed off in most of them at this point. They were incredibly comfortable, and each one had its own umbrella and side tables. What were we talking about, again? Oh right, finding a date to get married.
“Late September or early October,” I muttered drowsily. “I don’t wanna be sweating my balls off.”
“Aw, but I like your sweaty balls.” He chuckled and legit patted my crotch.
I shoved at his arm. “Dick.”
“That one too.” He dipped down and kissed me. “Next one. Number of guests?”
“No more than twenty-five,” I said. “If we wanna go to Bali, we need to cut some corners.”
“Agreed. Maybe twenty is a better number,” he replied. “We want to buy snorkeling gear too.”
Fuck, how I loved that man.
“I got the luggage!” someone hollered. It sounded like Shay, River and Reese’s boy. I pushed myself up on my elbows to see the guy step out onto the deck with a rollaboard in tow. “Thank you, TJ Maxx, for 50% off!”
River and Reese sat up in their sunbed too, squinting and smiling lazily.
For some reason, it made Corey get all huffy in the water.
“Is this even a kink community anymore? Mister Max and Mister Reid are planning their freaking fairy-tale wedding, where apparently no one’s invited because they wanna go snorkeling in Asia, Mister Colt and Mister Lucas are busy making kissy faces, and Mister River and Mister Reese and Shay are planning a damn vacation. Like, what the crap, yo!”
“Agreed!” Kit smacked the water with his pool noodle. “This is some nonsense, y’all! Give us kink!”
“You’re just playin’ around in the pool,” I said. “How kinky is that?”
“Just what I was about to say,” Reese added. “Kit, didn’t you get the mother of beatings from your Daddy last night?”
Considering I’d seen the bruises on Kit’s body—the parts that weren’t covered in tattoos—I’d say the beating had been good too.
Kit shrugged. “Barely felt it.”
At that, Colt laughed on the other side of the pool. “Oh, I love it when you beg, baby boy. Don’t you worry, I’ll beat you harder next time.”
“I didn’t say that!” Kit shouted, all buttons pushed. “Daddy, I didn’t say that!”
“Sure you did—that’s what we heard,” Reese said.
“Yup, loud and clear,” I agreed.
Shay chuckled to himself as he rounded the pool with his new luggage. “You happy now, Kit?”
Kit wasn’t happy at all.
Corey was wisely opting to shut up.
Max turned to River and Reese. “Where are you off to? I forgot to ask earlier.”
River yawned and lay down again. “San Diego.”
“I’m not sure it’ll be much of a vacation, though,” Reese chuckled. “We’re helping a friend get settled in his new house.”
“Whatever, I’m gonna learn how to surf,” Shay said. “It’s definitely a vacation for me.”
Vacations were important. Max and I headed out as frequently as we could, whether it was a short weekend up to New York or a bucket-list week bicycling around Lake Como in Italy, which we’d done this past spring.
After so many years of pining after each other and living somewhat frugally, we had long bucket lists to catch up on.
It also helped that I didn’t have to waste energy on watching Max struggle with his identity anymore. Hell, these days, he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted.
“Can you pass me the wing sauce?”
I passed him the sauce, eyes glued to the big screen above our booth. The sports bar was packed, and the wings were fucking divine.
“I know what I want to be now, Reid.”
“Oh yeah?” Come on, come on, come on, don’t fumble again. We needed this win.
“Yeah. Your husband.”
I whipped my head around to face him, and I blinked.
He smirked and used his napkin to wipe my chin. “What do you say?”
Jesus Christ. Was he serious? He better be.
“I say pick a time and place, and I’ll fuckin’ be there, darlin’.”