The cufflink of Jack’s suit shone in the light streaming through his office window. He sat up a little straighter in his chair and tried to focus on what his client—Kenneth Dunn—was saying, but it was difficult to do when his phone was lighting up as often as it did.

“What I need right now is a low-risk investment,” Kenneth said. He was a paunchy man with wispy hair whose suit was a little too loose at the shoulders. “Doesn’t matter to me if in the long-term the pay-out is lower. Taking a risk isn’t something I think I can afford right now.”

“I’m not so sure,” Jack countered. He knew that there was an investment option he wanted to suggest, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it was. It had to be in one of the mock ledgers he’d generated for the meeting, but there was no telling which one it was. “There are advantages to taking risk, and with the amount we have to play with, I’d go as far as to advise it. What’s unwise is to invest blindly. If you make educated decisions, I think that—”

The screen of his phone lit up. Jack’s gaze flicked to it.

“That…”

A captioned image appeared on the screen. Jack couldn’t read it from where he sat, but he could tell by the stock photo alone that it was going to be funny.

“Mr. Wilder?” Kenneth asked, his puffy cheeks pinching in displeasure.

“Sorry.” Jack tore his eyes away from his phone. It sat beside the pile of simulated ledgers he’d drawn up, and he was hopeful Kenneth couldn’t see the screen. “Someone’s been trying to get in touch with me all day. As I was saying, I think that some risk is worth it. I have a few options for you to consider.”

Jack picked up the first ledger from the pile and prayed that his past self was responsible enough to put them in a useful order. He opened the cover and turned the document around so that it faced Kenneth. His eyes scanned the list of investments, and he was relieved when he saw an option that jogged his memory.

Of course.

“If we invest in a variable rate option with a mild to moderate history of fluctuation, in as little as five years you’re likely to see a significant divergence from a safer, fixed rate investment.”

Kenneth’s face grew stern. “Isn’t this pushing my luck?”

“Not necessarily.” Jack drew back from the ledger to access his computer. He pulledup the statistics he had on hand. What looked like boring charts and graphs and numbers to most people was beautiful to him. There was something so wholesome and secure about data. “If we look at the data, you’ll see that even when there are dips, those dips have statistically never lasted for long, and the increase afterward, statistically, makes up for the loss in most instances.”

Jack turned his computer screen around to face Kenneth, and Kenneth’s face twisted in distaste. It looked like he didn’t appreciate graphs and numbers in the same way Jack did.

His loss.

“All right,” Kenneth said. “So what you’re telling me is that if I do this, it’s not going to lose me money.”

“I can never guarantee that,” Jack said. “But what I can guarantee is that if I were in your shoes with the exact funds you have available and the knowledge I have of the market, I would invest exactly like I’m suggesting here. Compared to the other ledgers, your forecasted profits are far weightier following this investment option in a comparable amount of time.”

Jack’s phone lit up again. There was a new text message waiting for him. Jack’s gaze darted toward the screen. He had to bite down on the inside of his lip to keep from smiling.

Over the course of the last month, the texts had been near constant. He wasn’t used to having someone blow up his phone.

Let alone someone so hot.

Jack tore his gaze away to look back at Kenneth. The only man he should be thinking of at that moment was the one he was doing business with.

“So,” Jack said. “What are you thinking?”

“I think that I need a few hours to sit on this.” Kenneth slid the mock ledger closer, going over the numbers. “Am I free to borrow this?”

“You can keep it if you want,” Jack said. “It’s made specifically for you.”

“Why don’t we take a lunch break and reconvene after?” Kenneth asked. “It’ll give me a chance to sit down and chew these numbers over, and from there we’ll come to a conclusion.”

“Would you like to take the other ledgers for comparison?”

“Probably a good idea.”

When it got down to it, numbers spoke for him. Jack was an excellent financial consultant, but when all was said and done, that meant he was a vessel for figures. Black ink did a better job sealing the deal than his voice ever did. Prep work was astronomically important, and jobs like this proved it time and time again.

Kenneth took custody of the ledgers Jack had prepared, and Jack watched as he slotted them into his briefcase. The front was worn and the buckles at the top were varnished. Kenneth lived humbly, but Jack knew he could afford a more extravagant lifestyle. In a few years when he started to see the benefits from his investments, even more so.

“We’ll meet back at one,” Jack said. “I’ve got an hour booked for you then.”

“Sounds perfect.” Kenneth snapped his briefcase closed. He rose and extended his hand. Jack stood and grabbed it, shaking it firmly. Kenneth’s palm was sweaty. “See you soon.”

Jack showed Kenneth out of his office. Once the door was closed, he wiped his hand on the side of his pants and made a face, then walked back to his desk and spritzed his hand with disinfectant. Once the clear gel was worked into his skin, he picked up the phone and unlocked his screen.

There were five messages waiting for him.

All of them were from Craig.

Jack glanced toward the door to make sure it really was closed before he scrolled up through the messages to get to the first one. Craig had sent him three memes and two texts. Jack scrolled through them, grinning like an idiot.

He didn’t particularly like memes. Some were funny, but some he just didn’t get. Trends were always changing, and he had a hard time keeping up.

But whenever Craig sent him something, it always made him laugh.

It wasn’t like they really knew each other. Not really. Craig had been in Jack’s life for a hot minute, only in town for Lane and Roman’s wedding. It hadn’t stopped Jack from looking.

Craig was the kind of gorgeous that Jack considered regal—light brown hair, blue eyes, and a pointed chin. If he were to wear a crown, he’d fit right in with the aristocracy.

Or whatever.

Jack didn’t know how any of that kings and queens stuff worked, but he knew that Craig was refined in a way that meant silver cutlery and crystal wineglasses. And now that Craig was back home in Los Angeles while Jack remained in smalltown North Carolina, Jack assumed Craig’s days of paper plates and barbecues were over.

It didn’t stop him from enjoying Craig’s texts a little too much.

Jack kicked back in his chair and scrolled through the images. Then, grinning, he read what Craig had sent him.

Hope your meeting isn’t a snorefest.

Sitting w Cecilia while she and mom go through seating arrangements. Zzz.

Jack’s mood faltered. He reread the last text, then turned off the phone and reflected on it for a few moments. Talking with Craig had become the highlight of his day, and Jack knew his heart was starting to get tangled up in their conversations, but there was one big glaring issue he needed to confront.

Not only was Craig straight, but he was getting married.

Jack scrubbed at his eyes and rocked his chair back and forth, trying to shake himself out of his stupor. He was crushing on a straight man. How stupid could he be?

Jack was gay. He’d been gay since he was too young to understand what it meant. Women were fine, but he felt no draw toward them. He liked men. It was as simple as that.

And often he liked men he shouldn’t.

He’d had his heart bruised before.

Straight men were off the table. Straight men weren’t worth the energy or the guaranteed heartbreak. Straight men were…

Jack’s phone screen lit up with a text from Craig.

Straight men were texting him all day long like he meant something and giving him mixed signals. Jack picked up his phone again and read the text.

You want to come? We’ve got an opening at Roman and Lane’s table.

Jack swallowed the knot in his throat. Seeing Craig get married wasn’t something he ever wanted to do.

He was jealous.

Jack made a face and rolled his shoulders back. What was he supposed to reply?

Can’t come because I’ll spend the entire ceremony beating myself up.

I’ll pass. I think I’d break if I saw you in person—you already give me butterflies just by texting.

Not unless you’re planning to say, “I don’t.”

None of those were going to work. Jack let out a sickened sigh and typed out a diplomatic response.

It’s three weeks from now, right? Can’t. Schedule is booked for the next two months.

The message sent. It registered as read. It was only a little bit of a lie. Jack’s schedule was still open while he finished off a contract, but he had a few offers waiting to be accepted that would fill up his time. The typing icon appeared seconds later—Craig was replying.

Bummer. Guess we can give it to Roman as a buffer zone against family.

That works. Jack hated to be short, but he also couldn’t bring himself to keep talking about something that hurt him so deeply. His crush on Craig had hit like a freight train, and he was still reeling from the impact.

How did your meeting go? Craig asked.

Fine. Client took the ledgers I prepared like I guessed he would. It’s always the same. Going to seal the deal this afternoon and get him invested right.

Great job :) think you can work out some investments for me after I get all that $$$ from my grandfather’s will?

Jack didn’t think before he replied, Of course.

He’d been single for too long if he was this desperate. Maybe it was time to fire up Grindr and commit to a road trip. There wasn’t much action to be had in smalltown North Carolina. It felt like except for the little gay haven he lived in at the Blackwood duplexes, Jack was all on his own.

All on his own with his ex, Hunter, lurking in the shadows.

Jack scowled and set the phone down. Craig didn’t reply—he had to be busy with wedding planning. It made Jack’s skin itch to think about it.

The tablecloths. The linens. The chairs. The guest list. The menu.

Why did he always fall for guys he couldn’t have?

Jack tucked his phone into his pocket and made his way to the door. It was best he stopped thinking about it. He had an hour to take for lunch before it was back to the grind, and he didn’t want to spend it obsessing over something that would never be.

Once Craig was married and officially off the market, Jack would lick his wounds and move on with his life. Until then, he’d endure.

Lunch would be a good distraction in between, and there was a plate of battered chicken strips with his name on it waiting for him in the pub across the street.

Cecilia folded her hands on her lap daintily and looked at Craig from beneath fanned lashes. Craig offered her a meek smile.

“So?” she asked.

“So…” Craig trailed off. “I think you did a good job. I don’t think there’s anything really out of place.”

Craig’s phone sat on his thigh, the screen still on. His conversation with Jack was active. He looked away from Cecilia to look down at his phone, waiting to see if Jack would message him back. The little typing icon at the bottom of their conversation appeared. Craig’s smile brightened.

“Craig?” Cecilia asked, the pitch of her voice growing shrill with thinly veiled irritation. “Hello?”

“Craig,” Craig’s mother, Catherine, rebuked. “We’re talking to you.”

“I know,” Craig said. He looked up from his phone. “I answered you, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Cecilia’s face betrayed her emotions—her lips were tight with frustration. “But you’re not invested in this conversation at all. All morning you’ve been sitting there on your phone texting when you should have been contributing. This is your family I’m trying to accommodate.”

“Cecilia is right, Craig,” Catherine said sternly. “She’s doing everything she can to make sure that this wedding goes off flawlessly, and all you’re doing is sitting around on your phone. These are your relatives. You’re the one who knows best who gets along with whom and who needs to be separated. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean you have license to check out.”

“This is our wedding,” Cecilia snapped. “I can’t plan something that’s ours alone.”

Craig understood their train of thought, and he knew that he was being unfair to both of them, but he couldn’t keep focused. Wedding planning bored him. Eighty percent of the people his mother had forced his hand into inviting didn’t mean anything to him. Fifteen percent of those remaining were people he abhorred. The five percent leftover were the only ones he cared about. Craig envied that his cousin, Roman, had been able to worm his way out of a huge ceremony when he’d tied the knot with his husband, Lane.

It had been one of the smallest weddings Craig had been to, but it had also been one of the best.

He’d met Jack there, after all. And Dylan and Brad.

For the first time in Craig’s life, it felt like he’d found people who valued him for himself instead of his relation to the Hawthorn family.

It made it hard as hell to devote his attention to something as shallow as planning a wedding that was more about prestige than a devotion of love.

“Craig?” Cecilia piped.

“I’m listening,” Craig promised. “I understand where you’re coming from. It’s just… I don’t want this.”

“What are you saying?” his mother asked, aghast. “Craig, you apologize this instant.”

“No, I don’t mean it that way.” Craig held out his hands, trying to calm his mother and his fiancée down. “I just mean, all the glamor and glitz. All the guests. The exclusive venue. The fancy cake… it’s not what I want. I still don’t understand why we can’t have something smaller.”

Both Cecilia and Catherine looked at him like he was crazy.

In their eyes, he probably was.

“With your family?” Cecilia asked. “Darling, there’s no way we could do something small without insulting everyone. There are too many of them not to invite.”

“And Cecilia’s family as well,” Craig’s mother reminded him. “There are already few enough of them as it is. How would they feel if they were suddenly uninvited?”

Craig ran his hand through his hair. He’d locked it in place earlier that morning with a misting of hair spray, but he couldn’t stop himself from messing it up. He was nervous, he realized. Maybe anxious. The crawling feeling of dread in his chest wouldn’t give up.

“I’m not saying that we’re going to do that,” Craig said. “Not at all, especially since we sent out the invitations. It’s just… it isn’t what I wanted, and both of you know it.”

“Who doesn’t want a wedding like this?” his mother asked. She pinched her shoulders together and shifted her weight from side to side like a bird ruffling her feathers. “Cecilia is going to be beautiful. The venue is going to be the most stunning one the Hawthorn family has ever had the privilege to visit. The food is going to be talked about for years, and the photographer and videographer are among the best in Los Angeles. This is going to be a fairytale brought to life.”

For Cecilia, maybe. For Craig it was another obligation, another mask. He’d spent a good portion of his life doing everything he could to fit into his elitist family, but it had never done him any good. No matter how successful he was, no matter what he accomplished, and no matter who he sucked up to, nothing was ever good enough for them. All his life he’d lived in his Cousin Roman’s shadow, spiteful and angry that this was the hand that he had been dealt with. All his bitterness had ever brought him was more reason to be jealous.

But since Roman had come back home from overseas and settled down with the right man, Craig was starting to come around. All Roman wanted was a simple life free from Hawthorn family drama. Craig realized that they weren’t all that dissimilar.

So Craig was doing his best to turn over a new leaf. It was a shame his family didn’t see it the same way he did.

“So you’ve finalized the seating arrangements, then?” Craig asked. He didn’t want to hurt his mother by telling her he wasn’t invested in the wedding at all. “That’s all taken care of?”

“No thanks to you,” Cecilia pouted.

Most times she was a sweet girl, but times like these she grated on Craig’s nerves to no end. “What do you want my help with, then?” Craig asked. “What else is there to be done? I know I dropped the ball on seating arrangements, but I can help with something else.”

“You can help by giving me your phone,” Cecilia said.

Craig instantly reached for it, taking hold of it before Cecilia could snatch it from his thigh. “I’ll turn it off and put it away.”

“I want to know who you’re texting,” she insisted. “All you do these days is sit on your phone, smiling and laughing behind your hand. Who are you talking to, Craig?”

“Uh. A friend.” Craig looked to his mother for support, but there was none to be found. Her eyes were hardened coals, her lips thin with her displeasure. “One of the guys I met out in North Carolina when I went to Roman’s wedding.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t take me,” Cecilia said. She’d worked herself into a fury now, and Craig knew there would be no talking her down. He had to let her burn out. “Is it because you were meeting someone out there? Is ‘one of the guys’ actually some girl, Craig?”

Craig buried his face in his hand.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“No, Cecilia.”

“I can’t believe you’d do this.”

Craig looked at her from between parted fingers. Her cheeks were red with frustration and her brows were knitted together. Most of the time she had a beautiful face, but when she was angry it twisted. “Roman’s mother was at the ceremony. Don’t you think if she saw me so much as look at another woman the entire Hawthorn clan would know it by now?”

“I—” Cecilia frowned. She knew as well as Craig did how rumors spread like wildfire through Craig’s family. “Well, still, it’s not right. It’s not right at all.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Craig apologized. “I swear I’m just talking to a friend. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

Cecilia looked appeased for all of five seconds before Craig’s mother cut in. “He may not be a woman, but is he a gay man? Roman was gay married to that boy, Landon?”

“Lane,” Craig said. Whose side was his mother on, anyway? Definitely not his.

“Lane. Right.” She lifted her chin. “So what? Are you talking to men now, Craig? Do you even stop to think about Cecilia?”

Sometimes Craig thought it wasn’t worth it to keep fighting for a relationship he wasn’t even all that invested in. Cecilia was a nice girl. When they’d met, she’d been sweet and drama free, but the longer she rubbed elbows with the Hawthorns, the more corrupt she became.

“I’m not talking to men like that,” Craig said.

“Why should I believe you?” Cecilia asked, outraged all over again. “All of this is so stressful to me and it’s like you don’t even care. If you loved me like you say you do, then you’d want to be here to help me through this stressful time. Instead, you’re talking to whomever that is.”

“Jack,” Craig said.

“That’s such a fake name it’s not even funny.” Cecilia collapsed back into her chair and looked skyward. Craig saw her beauty in the curve of her slender neck and the angles of her jaw, but he was having a hard time seeing what drew him to her as a person.

Maybe he’d been too hasty to get down on one knee. He’d thought that Cecilia was a different person, but she was starting to show her true colors. Craig wondered what kind of a life it would be with her at his side.

Would he turn into the same bitter person he had been only a few months before?

“Maybe it’s a good idea if we get back to the issues at hand instead of who I’m texting,” Craig suggested. “There’s a lot still to get done, right? We shouldn’t be wasting time on unnecessary things.”

“Unnecessary to you, maybe,” Cecilia said. She folded her arms across her chest, disappointment plainly visible in her eyes. “It feels pretty necessary to me.”

Craig sighed. This was a conversation for behind closed doors—one he certainly didn’t want to have in front of his mother. He already knew she was going to spread rumors about trouble in paradise from the little she’d seen. A full-blown confrontation would only make things worse.

“Cecilia, I’m sorry,” Craig said. He really was. “There’s no one else, I promise. I was being an ass to ignore you when you needed my help. I’ll work on that. If you see me doing it again, can you correct me on it?”

Cecilia looked smug. It made Craig resent her just a little bit—but it made him resent his family even more. They’d taken a fantastic woman and molded her into one of their own. It was sickening.

“I will,” Cecilia said. “So, what else were we going to go over today? The tablecloths and centerpieces?”

That meant another few hours of total boredom. Craig looked listlessly across the room and clutched his phone a little tighter. Talking with Jack always helped the time pass, but now he was apparently banned from having fun, so that was out of the picture.

He’d have to find something else to keep him awake.

Right as he was about to have to explain his stance on lace, an unexpected noise came to his salvation.

The doorbell rang.

“Now, who could that be?” Craig’s mother asked. She stood and whisked out of the room, Craig following right behind her. A break from the monotony of wedding planning was exactly what he needed. He hoped that it was a Jehovah’s Witness he could sucker into talking to him about religion for an hour or two—long enough for his mother and Cecilia to finish up whatever details they still needed to address about the wedding.

A young woman stood in the doorway instead. Craig recognized her instantly.

It was Nadine Little, his ex-girlfriend’s younger sister. In her arms was a baby.

“Nadine?” Craig asked.

“Hi Craig,” Nadine said. She nodded at the baby in her arms. “Meet Isaac. He’s yours.”