Chapter 51
Fifty-One
I’ll Be There for You
Ryan
“Christmas is at our house this year,” Lexi says, looking at Beau beside her at the dining table in Anthony and Chance's condo. “We'd love to have you all, if you don't have other plans.”
“We'll be there,” Anthony says as he passes the breadbasket to Tyler. “I'll come help you cook. It'll be easier for us to have the year off from hosting.” He nods toward the baby monitor sitting on the counter. My bros have their hands full with two babies.
Beau clears his throat. “You know, there's a house in our neighborhood that just went up for sale.”
Lexi perks up. “Ooh. Yes. It's perfect, too. You guys will love it. Anthony, the kitchen is divine.”
Anthony hums. “I don't know—"
“We'll look at it this week,” Chance says.
Anthony’s head turns to look at his husband. Chance just shrugs. “Ant needs a better kitchen, and our kids will need a good school.”
The way Anthony looks at him after that gives me all the feels. His cheeks pinken—and for a second, it’s just the two of them in the room. But this time, instead of yearning for what they have, I’m grateful that I’ve found it myself.
“I'll be there too,” Jen says. Then she gestures to Harper and Cricket. “Are you both going to be in town?”
Cricket nods her head. “Yes. We'll be here. We're not talking to our parents right now after the way they've treated Ryan.”
I sigh. “Cricket—"
“No,” she says, stopping me. “What Dad did is bullshit. But Mom's just as bad. She never stood up for you. We're not spending the holidays with them.”
Harper nods in agreement. “Yep.” Then she points at me. “We're going to need to use your condo a while longer, Ry.”
I wave her off. “Use it as long as you want. But what about your business?”
“We have everything taken care of for a while. Our assistant back home is handling all the on-site details.” Then she points her fork at Anthony. “This lasagna is fucking ridiculous, by the way.”
The entire table burst out laughing. Anthony's lasagna is legendary. He just smiles modestly and takes another sip of wine.
“I can't stop eating,” Tyler says with a mouthful.
I reach over and ruffle his hair. “Thanks for coming today.”
His face lights up. “Are you kidding? You'll never get rid of me now.”
“Good.” I wink at him.
Beside me, Spence's hand slides onto my thigh beneath the table. A gentle squeeze. Warm. Steady. We decided not to tell Tyler about Betty until later. Let him have tonight. Let him laugh, eat too much lasagna, and enjoy being surrounded by people who care about him.
“Speaking of real estate, Butters,” Anthony says. “I drove by the gallery where some of Chance’s paintings hang the other day.”
I look at him, confused.
“There's a fine dining space for lease where Fired Fork used to be.”
My eyes widen. “Oh man. I loved that restaurant.”
“It's a great space too,” Jen says.
Anthony nods thoughtfully. “How do you feel about going in together on a new restaurant concept?”
“What?” I stare at him. “Bro, are you serious?”
He nods.
“Oh shit,” Jen says. “That place would have a line out the door.”
“Chance and I would essentially be silent partners,” Anthony says. “But I'd love to collaborate on menu ideas.” He gestures toward me. “The restaurant would be yours. A showcase for your cuisine.”
My head is swimming.
Why didn’t I think of this?
Anthony continues. “It would also be a smart investment for the firm. A place to take clients. Plus, an opportunity to demonstrate that we support athletes in post-career endeavors.”
Beside me, Spence squeezes my leg again. I glance at him. He gives me a small nod. One that says everything. Do it.
I lean back in my chair. A restaurant. My restaurant.
“I hadn't even considered a restaurant,” I admit. Then I grin. “But it makes sense.” I look around the table, at all the faces that helped me get here. “Let's do this.”
A chorus of cheers erupt.
Spence clears his throat and we all look at him. He scratches the back of his neck, looking perplexed. “I can't believe I'm about to say this.”
We all watch him—waiting. He winces, like the words physically hurt. “You should name the restaurant Butter.”
Absolute silence follows.
Then my grin stretches so wide my face hurt.
“You’re welcome,” he grumbles.
Laughter erupts around the table. I lean over and kiss him quickly. His cheeks flush and the laughter grows.
After dinner, everyone spreads out around the condo. Wine glasses. Conversations. Babies. Laughter. The comfortable chaos of people who have become family.
I’m in the middle of spewing menu ideas at Spence when Chance’s voice breaks through the chatter in the room.
“Oh shit,” he practically shouts as he turns the volume up on the TV that’s been running in the background.
I look up. And my stomach drops.
My father. Standing behind a podium. Every muscle in my body locks. But then I hear what he’s saying.
...many of you were expecting an announcement from me declaring my intention to make a run at the White House.
The room goes dead silent.
That announcement is not coming.
My heart skips.
Furthermore, I will not be seeking re-election when my term is up next year.
Nobody moves.
My wife and I plan to retire to our second home in Hawaii. I would like to thank the American people. It has been my honor to serve you. He pauses. Thank you. I will not be taking questions.
The screen cuts away and everyone turns to look at me.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
Spence moves to face me. His hands settle on my waist, grounding me, steady and warm.
“Wow,” I shake my head. “I never thought I'd see the day.” Neither did the little boy who spent his life trying to earn his father's approval. But somehow that boy feels a lifetime away tonight.
Later, I’m in Anthony and Chance’s kitchen plating the mini cheesecakes I brought. I lay down tiny circles of my blackberry sauce in perfect swirls.
Harper walks in—but she doesn’t look at me. She walks directly to Spence, leans close, and whispers, “I know what you did last summer.”
My brows zip together. Harper pats his cheek and goes back to the living room with the others.
I stare at Spence. “What was that about?”
He shrugs. “I have no idea.”
I give him a look that says he’s not fooling me, but before I can question him further, Tyler appears. He swiftly reaches for a cheesecake. Spence smacks his hand.
“Hey.” Tyler jerks back. “Ow!”
“Ryan isn't done yet,” Spence scolds.
Tyler groans. “Come on.”
“Patience.”
I point at him with my piping bottle. “Yeah, T-Bone. Patience.” I glance at Spence. “Trust me.” Our eyes meet. “Everything tastes better when you're patient.” Spence’s gaze turns molten.
Tyler makes a gagging sound. “You guys are gross.”
Spence and I both shrug.
“How's Niiiiick?” I ask.
Tyler points at me. “Nope. Truce. I won't make fun of you guys anymore.”
“Smart choice,” Spence says on a laugh.
Tyler leans against the counter, looking toward the living room at all the people gathered there, then back at us. “Your little friend family group is pretty awesome.”
I set down the bottle and point at him and Spence. “You two.” I smile. “You're my family now.”
Spence's eyebrows shoot up.
Then I point toward the living room. “That pack of loons out there?” I smiled wider. “They'll be your family too. If you let them.”
Tyler fake wipes at his eyes. But I see the warmth there.
The hope. The belonging.
Cricket appears behind Spence and wraps him in a giant bear hug. “That's right.” She squeezes him tighter. “You have two sisters now.”
Spence groans, but his face is filled with pure joy and adoration. Cricket kisses his cheek before deftly stealing a piece of cheesecake and running.
I laugh and go back to plating the rest of them. Around each cheesecake I paint a ring of blackberry sauce. It makes me think about Tish Winthrop. The mom of my childhood friend, Bobby. The food critic. The woman who told me I was always searching for the perfect bite.
She was talking about food—but standing here now, surrounded by laughter and family and possibility, I realize I haven’t only been doing that with cuisine.
My whole life, I've been searching for something.
Belonging. Love. Home.
My journey with Spence reminds me of some of the complex dishes I’ve learned to make over the years.
The first taste was a little acidic. Then it turned savory on my tongue. Next, little pops of spice—an unexpected heat.
And finally… sweetness.
A perfect finish.
A beautiful symphony of flavors that shouldn't work together but absolutely do.
Spencer Stark is my Perfect bite.