20. Chapter 20
He couldn’t take his eyes off him.
Sam was talking with Tony and Brendon at the booth in the far corner, while the others sat at the bar.
Frankie had closed the bar for the evening, putting a sandwich-board sign out front to fend off customers.
The place was all theirs for one last time, and it felt good doing it on Sam’s birthday.
And that would be his last birthday surprise.
Once the party was over and they were back in bed, where they should be, he would tell Sam that he had sold the bar.
That he was done with Boston. That he had gotten a job as one of Caz’s trainers in LA and everything was in place for him to move as soon as next week.
He also ordered two dozen donuts from Sam’s favorite donut shop and had them stashed in the back room for later. He couldn’t help himself, he liked spoiling Sam.
And they did that a lot today.
They spent the day in bed, as planned. Sam made love to him again, which had been tender and affectionate, taking his time with him, as though savoring him.
Sam then napped. Frankie was going to have to have another firm talking-to with him about self-care.
He understood to some extent that being an emergency department doctor was demanding work, but damn, this man seemed permanently sleep-deprived.
Once I move to LA, he’s fuckin’ sleepin’, even if I have to put his ass in a fuckin’ coma to do it.
The thought still made him pause and smile.
He was moving to be with his man. His baby.
His fuckin’ Superman. And not a goddamned thing in the world was going to stop that, because they loved each other.
It was real and strong and theirs. Everything they had said to each other in bed today had come from the woven fibers of their souls and made perfect sense.
Everything had led them to this. To each other.
He believed that now.
He saw the truth of being Sam’s friend first, then his lover, and now—his fuckin’ soulmate.
It had led to this awakening and it was so good it hurt.
And damn, it scared him a bit, too, because he didn’t know it could be like this.
It was a comfortable kind of love. The one that gets easier over time, not harder.
The kind they had had all along but never realized.
He did now.
And moving to LA, the bracelets, the lovemaking—was just the start.
Because he knew deep down that he was going to marry his Superman.
He was going to put a ring on that finger so the whole world could know that he was his.
Forever.
Jesus, I’m such a fuckin’ cheeseball.
Frankie grinned to himself, thinking of this afternoon when Sam had finally gotten up from his nap, looking deliciously relaxed and strutting into his kitchen, all puffy chest and pecs he wanted to sink his teeth into.
And Sam, the feral fuck, surprised the hell out of him by bending him over the kitchen counter, shoving his boxers down, and eating his asshole right fuckin’ there.
It was dirty and hot, and damn, just thinkin’ about it turned him on.
Sam had called him a cum slut earlier, and that was absolutely true. And to his delight, his boyfriend was a bit ass obsessed.
Boyfriend.
He couldn’t stop smiling every time he thought the word—and now there was the other word that Sam had branded into his brain.
When Sam had finished tormenting him, he had slid between Frankie’s legs, positioned himself against him and the kitchen counter, and sucked his cock dry.
It hadn’t taken long for him to climax down his greedy throat, and Sam, the fuckin’ minx, had let a little cum dribble out of his mouth, licking it up with a burning intensity in his eyes.
And then he had surprised the fuck out of him.
“I wanna see your ass in silk,” Sam had hushed, grabbing his cock and stroking himself right there on the floor, his swollen tip leaking all over his fist. “Would you do that, baby? Be a good boy and wear sexy lingerie for me?”
Frankie had gaped, eyes locked with his and still panting from the brutal blow job. He had watched as Sam orgasmed, moaning and cumming beautifully all over himself.
Lingerie.
Fuuuuck.
His brain had exploded, and he hadn’t recovered all damned evening. And Sam knew it. Causally flicking his gaze to him and smirking darkly, he let his silver bracelet flash on his thick wrist while he sipped his beer.
He wanted to march over there, take his cute, dimpled chin in his hand, and kiss the fuck out of him.
Sam seemed to be baiting him to do it. And fuck, he wanted to.
His heart was pounding in his chest at the thought of getting to do just that.
To kiss him whenever, wherever he wanted.
To claim him, fuck him, taste him, touch him.
His boyfriend.
He sighed and topped off his beer, about to join him at the booth when he felt his phone ring in his back pocket. Frowning, he wondered who would be calling him when everyone he loved was here.
It was his father’s retirement home.
Shit.
“Mr. Casavani?” a young female voice said when he answered.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“We’re calling because your father had a fall. We had to call an ambulance, and he was taken to St. Mary’s about five minutes ago.”
“Is he okay?”
“We’re not sure. But he seemed to be in a lot of pain. Hopefully nothing serious, but we wanted to make sure.”
“All right, thanks.” He clicked off the phone, scrubbing a frustrated hand over his face and dumping his beer out in the sink.
Of course, his asshole father had to ruin their evening.
He shoved his phone back into his pocket, mind racing. Sam looked up from the booth, Tony and Brendon silenced at the sight of his sour expression.
“What’s up?” Sam asked.
Frankie leaned over, tone low so as not to kill the vibe of the party. Sam’s hand instinctively grazed his on top of the booth, concerned.
“Dad had a fall. He’s on the way to St. Mary’s.”
Sam began to stand, and Frankie shook his head, pushing him firmly back down. “Absolutely not. You ain’t leavin’. It’s your birthday. He ain’t ruinin’ it.”
“He just did if you’re leaving.”
“Yeah, well…” he sighed, “I’m sorry.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you feel guilty for going. Of course, you’re gonna go check on him.”
“A better man than us,” Brendon added, and Tony nodded.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Frankie said. “I can leave my keys with you, and I can take an Uber.”
Sam shook his head, “I’ll stay. Worst-case scenario, I close up and just wait for you.”
“Or one of these assholes can take you back to my place,” Frankie suggested, glancing at the two men opposite Sam.
Brendon nodded, giving a thumbs up.
He hated leaving like this. Hated leaving Sam on his birthday. It wasn’t fair. And he really hated that the reason was because of his homophobic, piece of shit father, who would lose his shit the moment he heard his son was planning on moving to LA because he was in love with his best friend.
“Call me if you need me,” Sam insisted.
“I always need you.”
A flush heated Sam’s cheeks and he glanced nervously away. Frankie couldn’t have that. He grabbed his chin, and Sam stiffened.
He kissed him right there in front of their group of friends and didn’t hold back.
Sam melted against him before drawing back, searching his face. Damn, he was so fucking beautiful. And his, he thought, taking in his hot cheeks and faint smile. “I love you. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
Sam’s bright green eyes softened. “I love you, too.”
He kissed him again, hard, and straightened, feeling everyone's eyes on them.
Tony’s mouth was open and collecting flies. Brendon was grinning excitedly, and Joel, who was pouring himself a beer behind the bar, left the tap open, foamy beer splashing him.
“Uh—you guys…?” Joel asked tentatively.
“Yeah,” Frankie said, striding to the door, unfazed. “We are. Anyone got a problem with that?”
Tina snorted, “I think Brit will. But we don’t. We fuckin’ love you guys.”
He nodded and hesitated, surprised by the general approval beaming back at him.
“You do realize that half of us here were hoping you guys would hook up, right?” Brendon said, surprising the hell out of him.
“Seriously?” Sam asked, also stunned.
“Seriously.” Brendon shrugged, “Frankie was the only one who seemed oblivious. We all saw it ages ago.”
“True,” Joel nodded. “It’s why I didn’t like seeing Mikey here last time. He’s too tall for you, Sammy.”
“Also true,” Brendon agreed.
“Have you all been talkin’ about this behind my back the entire time?” Frankie asked, astounded.
“And Sammy’s,” Tina retorted, glancing over to Sam.
“Sorry, honey. We just didn’t have the heart to tell ya.
You had the biggest puppy eyes whenever that idiot walked in.
I figured you’d either tell us, or not. I thought you going to LA was good for you.
To get over him.” She waved a dismissive hand at Frankie.
“But now I see I was wrong. Y'all are fuckin’ cute as hell. I hate it. Joel, pour me a shot. I need to text Brit.”
“So, everyone’s cool with this?” Frankie asked, confused and yet—elated. It made him love his friends and family even more.
“Duh, you big oaf!” Tina chided, before sliding into the booth next to Sam and grinning happily at him.
Everyone else nodded, followed by a saluting cheer, and Sam, blushing into his hands, smiled lovingly at him.
It took everything in his power not to go to him.
Instead, he smiled back, winked, and with his heart lighter than it had been in years, walked out into the cool evening air, taking in the stars and knowing that Papi, wherever he was, was smiling, too.