Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ROYCE
The restaurant is buzzing with energy by the time I arrive.
I'd reserved the entire place for tonight. All of Romano's, one of Bellport's best Italian restaurants, shut down exclusively for the team and their families. I wanted to do it after the stress we’ve all been under. A way to show appreciation and build camaraderie outside the stadium.
The staff has already pushed several tables together to create one long dining setup, family-style. String lights are draped overhead, and the smell of garlic bread and marinara fills the air. It's warm and inviting, exactly the atmosphere I was hoping for.
"Your Majesty," Kenneth's voice comes from behind me, low and teasing. "You've outdone yourself."
I turn to find him leaning against the doorframe, looking unfairly good in dark jeans and a fitted Henley. We agreed to keep things casual tonight—no suits, no formality. Just people enjoying each other's company.
"You think so?" I ask, fighting the urge to go to him and kiss him hello. We're trying to be somewhat discreet, at least until the team gets more comfortable with the idea of us as a couple.
Not that we’ve said anything yet. I think they know anyway though.
"I know so." He pushes off the frame and crosses to me, his hand briefly touching the small of my back—a gesture small enough that anyone watching might miss it, but significant enough that I feel it everywhere. "This is going to mean a lot to them."
"That's the goal. Though I'm starting to worry I ordered too much food." I glance around the space one more time, mentally checking off details.
Kenneth laughs. "Have you met our team? Gillies alone could probably eat half of what you ordered."
"Fair point."
Players start trickling in with their partners and families. I greet each one, making sure they know where to sit, where the bar is, that everything is taken care of. Gillies arrives alone but immediately lights up when he spots the appetizer table.
"Is that the famous Romano's bruschetta?" he calls out, already heading in that direction.
"All you can eat," I confirm, and he pumps his fist in celebration.
"You're a god among humans, Royce. A god among humans!"
Kenneth chuckles beside me. "See? Told you."
More players arrive while Gillies attacks the buffet.
I make mental notes to learn the names of their partners, their kids.
Naymon brings his wife and newborn baby, who immediately becomes the center of attention.
Walters arrives with his boyfriend, both of them looking a bit nervous until I make a point of welcoming them warmly.
"We're so glad you both could make it," I tell them. "There's wine at the bar, or beer, or soft drinks if you prefer. Make yourselves at home."
The relief on their faces is visible. Walter's boyfriend, Marcus, I remind myself, smiles genuinely. "Thank you for including me. Not every team is so welcoming."
"Well, this team is," I say firmly. "Everyone's family here."
Kenneth moves through the crowd with ease, shaking hands and making small talk.
He's good at this. Better than he gives himself credit for. The players respect him, and it shows in the way they gravitate toward him, asking his opinion on practice this past week and sharing inside jokes I’ve yet to learn.
I'm watching him laugh at whatever Gillies said when I hear my brother's voice.
"Royce!"
I turn to see Bellamy entering with Finn at his side, and behind them—
"Bishop? Atlas? What are you doing here?"
Bishop grins at me, the look far too intimidating even though I know that’s not the intent. The guy is just fucking huge. "Your brother said there was free food. You know I can't resist that."
Atlas, slightly more reserved but smiling nonetheless, adds, "Plus, Daddy needed to get out more. He's been holed up watching game tape for weeks. He knows I won’t go out without him."
"It's important to keep up to date on things," Bishop protests. "I have to study the competition."
"You have to remember you're human and need social interaction, Daddy," Atlas corrects, but his tone is fond. He slides an arm around Bishop's waist, and Bishop leans down to kiss him. Those two are such opposites, yet they make sense too.
I look at my brother, raising an eyebrow. "You brought a hockey player to a baseball team dinner?"
"Bishop's practically family," Bellamy says with a shrug. "Besides, I figured it couldn't hurt to have some inter-sport bonding. Who knows? Maybe we can get some of your players interested in coming to hockey and football games."
"Or," Bishop interjects, "we could convince some of them that hockey is the superior sport."
"Don't start," Bellamy and Finn say in unison.
I laugh, pulling my brother into a hug. "Thanks for coming. It means a lot."
"Wouldn't miss it," Bellamy says, then lowers his voice. "Plus, I wanted to see how you and Kenneth are doing. You know, publicly."
"We're fine. Professional."
"Uh-huh." He doesn't sound convinced. "Is that why he's been staring at you for the past five minutes?"
I glance over and, sure enough, Kenneth's eyes are on me even as he's nodding along to whatever Naymon is saying. When our gazes meet, he smiles—soft and private, just for me.
"Okay, maybe not entirely professional," I admit.
Bellamy grins. "That's what I thought. Go, mingle. We'll catch up later."
I gesture toward the tables. "Go, sit, eat. Just don't let Bishop start any fights about which sport is superior."
"That was one time," Bishop calls over his shoulder as they head toward the seating area.
"It was three times," Finn corrects, but he's smiling as he says it. He hangs back for a moment, giving me a quick hug. "This is really nice, what you're doing. Building team culture like this matters. Atlas and I will keep our Daddies in line for you. Don’t worry about them."
"I had the best example of how to lead a team," I tell him, nodding toward Bellamy.
"He learned from you too," Finn says with a knowing smile before following his husband.
Kenneth reappears at my side. "Everyone's here. Should we get started?"
"Yeah." I take a breath, then move to the center of the room, raising my voice slightly. "Hey, everyone? Can I have your attention for just a moment?"
The chatter dies down as faces turn toward me.
"First, thank you all for coming tonight.
I know you've all been working incredibly hard, and I wanted to do something to show how much that's appreciated.
This team—" I gesture around the room "—isn't just about what happens on the field.
It's about the relationships we build, the support we show each other, the community we create. "
I can see some of the players nodding, a few of the partners smiling.
"So tonight, there's no agenda, no speeches beyond this one, no expectations. Just good food, good company, and hopefully some good stories. Eat, drink, laugh, enjoy yourselves. You've earned it."
A round of applause breaks out, and then people start moving toward their seats. The serving staff begins bringing out platters of pasta, chicken parmesan, eggplant rollatini. It’s enough food to feed an army, which is basically what we have here.
I end up seated between Kenneth and Bellamy, with Finn, Bishop, and Atlas across from us. Gillies is a few seats down, already engaged in an animated conversation with Naymon about batting techniques while simultaneously loading his plate with an alarming amount of food.
"That idiot is going to make himself sick," I say.
"His metabolism defies science," Kenny counters. "I've seen him eat an entire pizza before a game and then run the bases like he's being chased."
"Youth," Bell sighs dramatically. "Remember when we could do that?"
I shake my head. "Speak for yourself. I never had that kind of metabolism."
"That's because you were too busy being perfect at everything else," my brother shoots back, but there's affection in his tone.
"I wasn't perfect."
"You were valedictorian, captain of the debate team, and managed three different businesses before you graduated college. That's pretty close to perfect."
Kenneth looks between us, clearly amused. "Should I be taking notes? Learning all of Royce's secrets?"
"Oh, I have stories," Bell says, his eyes lighting up. "So many stories."
"Absolutely not! Whatever you're thinking, the answer is no."
"I wasn't going to tell him about the time you got stuck in that—"
"BELLAMY BELLPORT!!."
"—tree trying to rescue that cat, even though the fire department specifically told you not to—"
"I was twelve! And Jake would have climbed if I hadn’t."
"—and then the cat clawed your chest so bad you needed stitches and a rabies shot."
Kenneth fights between laughing and looking worried for me. He's failing at the former. "Please tell me there are pictures of them in the tree."
"There are absolutely pictures," Finn confirms. "Several. Mama B has them in an album."
"She does not," I say to my brother-in-law, terrified he might be telling the truth.
My brother jumps in to defend his husband. "He’s not lying. I’ve got a framed copy in my office. It's one of my favorites."
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. "I hate you."
"You love me," Bell corrects. "And admit it, you were adorable up in that tree, crying because you were afraid of heights."
"I wasn't crying—"
"You were absolutely crying."
Kenneth's hand finds mine under the table, squeezing gently. When I look at him, he's grinning. "For what it's worth, I think twelve-year-old you sounds very brave. Misguided, but brave."
"Thank you," I say pointedly, glaring at my brother.
"So Kenneth," Bishop says, loading his plate with an impressive amount of spaghetti, clearly sensing I need the subject changed. "I heard you used to play back in college."
Kenneth nods, and I see the slight tension in his shoulders that always appears when his playing career comes up. "Yeah. Pitched for a couple of years before an injury ended that."