Chapter 24 SANTOS

I sip my champagne and gaze all around me at one year's worth of wedding planning. The walls of the banquet hall are decked out in gold-trimmed linens, reflecting the light from the chandelier. The DJ slows down the music, and the chatter of happy guests fills the room. Everyone has evacuated the linoleum ballroom floor in lieu of finishing their meal. I love the ambiance of a wedding; considering the shitty childhood Santana and I shared, I can't take celebrations for granted. There's no better excuse to celebrate than my boyfriend's brother and best friend tying the knot.

"You gonna finish that?" I glance at my sister sitting next to me. She's wearing a magenta gown, and Wayne sits beside her in a traditional dark suit. I snicker when I notice Santana eyeing the salmon on my plate.

"Go nuts." I push my meal toward her and she digs in.

"The baby thanks you." She takes a bite and rubs her small baby bump. "If I can't drink booze, extra salmon is the next best thing," she mumbles with a mouth full of food.

I raise my hands and exchange an amused grin with Wayne. "I didn't judge you," I reply.

We're all happy to be back together, less than two years after Santana's wedding. When I look over at the two grooms, a contentment settles into my heart. Firass and Johnny are so madly in love, and I can't think of two people more perfect for each other.

Turning back to the table, I recall the other couples here who could give them a run for their money. Yes, my sister and Wayne are great, but they didn't have an epic decade-long friendship like Hamadi and Andres. The couple is sitting across from me, and Hamadi appears to be trying to balance a fork on his nose. Andres is seated next to him, gazing at his boyfriend with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

Next to Hamadi, Dylan pays them no mind. Vil massages his boyfriend's palm on the table, seemingly unaware that I'm watching. Dylan stares at him like the moon, the stars, and the heavens come out of his ass. I swear, they're so grossly devoted to each other that it's almost disgusting.

"What are you thinking about?" Santana asks.

I shrug. "Family."

She glances away, and I track her gaze. Across the ballroom floor, Mr. and Mrs. Shiba are chatting avidly with Keisha and Andres's cousin. Santana smiles at me and says, "Believe it or not, I'm happy Dad is a part of our life, too." She rubs my shoulder, and I pat her hand. "We're making a new family dynamic."

I nod. We've been having coffee dates with Dad once a month since that first one. Each meet-up is more comfortable than the last. Sometimes our significant others join us, but otherwise, it's two siblings talking to their estranged father. We ask him various questions about the Hand family history, and he's happy to answer. We're glad our dad is sober now, but we're not ready to invite him to any family functions. When it comes to repairing this relationship, Santana and I are taking baby steps.

"Yes, b-b-but I was referring to this family." I point to the boys across from us. The couples are chatting over drinks, and all feels right in the world. This past year, I've grown a lot closer to the group. While the Single Gamer's Society—they insist on keeping that name, as a memento, I suppose—hangs out, their boyfriends often end up palling around, and that includes me. Vil and I have begun working out together, and I consider him a true friend. He and I text almost as often as Natie and I. Andres has hired my company to make promotional materials for his baked goods business. While I'm not too close with Johnny, Natie claims his brother approves of me every time I ask.

"I'm happy for us. I like this family we've built." Santana rubs my arm and pats her hand. "We made it, Santos."

Her words pull on my heartstrings, and my eyes begin to water. We're not those lonely biracial kids from a broken home anymore. Santana and I managed to make it through to the other side of a rough childhood. Now I have a whole community of nerdy people who are willing to help me.

"We did."

She leans back and Wayne puts his arm around her. "Now where's that boy of yours?" she asks with a grin.

"I don't know."

I stand up, and after a moment of studying the tables, I spot him walking toward me. The banquet hall lights illuminate his white tuxedo, creating a shimmering illusion. He puts the brightest smile on my face, and most days I still can't believe he's mine.

Natie Shiba chose me. He's the answer to the questions I've been stuttering my whole life.

"Sorry, duty called. Firass's aunts were grilling me and pinching my cheeks."

He smiles at me apologetically, and I pull him in by his suit collar. "You're here now. That's all that matters," I murmur.

I peck his lips and he chuckles. "You're so sweet, Handyman." Yes, I've accepted that as my nickname, but only from him. "Must be the wedding magic."

"What magic?"

"Why else are you acting so sweet to me like we don't live together?"

We share a laugh, and I kiss him again. "Because I love you." I adore cohabitating with Natie in my apartment. Waking up next to him in the morning is enthralling, and I don't want to spend my nights and mornings with anyone else.

"I love you, too." He plays with my blue tie. "I was thinking tonight…we could use this tie for some fun of our own," he purrs.

"Oh? How so?" My dick gets hard in my tuxedo pants, but Natie simply rolls his eyes. He doesn't know I've been chatting with Andres and Vil about the joys of edging and light bondage.

"You know how." He takes my hands in his.

"But hearing your d-d-descriptions is titillating." I lean into his mouth and caress his smooth cheek.

"Well, Mr. Hand, first I'd tie you up to the bed. Then I'd suck on your nipples, lube up my fingers, and—"

My plans to hear his agenda are derailed by the sound of a microphone being tested. When we turn around, I notice Mr. Shiba by the DJ booth.

"Now we would like to hear from the best man, my youngest son, Natie."

The crowd breaks into applause, and Natie pats my hand. "Duty calls again," he mutters against my lips.

A moment later, the banquet hall quiets down. All eyes are on Natie holding the microphone. "Thank you all for being here." He clears his throat. "So, I could stand here and tell you all sorts of embarrassing stories. As the brother and almost-brother of both grooms, I have plenty of firepower over both of them."

Everyone laughs and Natie grins, basking in the attention. As anticipated, he's stellar with the speech, much more eloquent than I was with Santana's. "But I'm not going to do that. You're welcome." He shoots a facetious smirk at the grooms, garnering another round of laughter.

Natie continues, "Instead, I'd like to tell you a little bit about me, and how I feel about these two. Years ago, I didn't want them to get together. But it's not like I wanted them to be miserable—I was just so afraid of losing them. I tried to keep them apart, but anyone familiar with either of them knows that was a losing battle." The crowd roars, and I lean on my hand and smile.

"I was overcome with the fear that once they fell in love, I would amount to nothing. But their bond only uplifted me. Firass has been like a second brother to me for decades, and them getting together only made us stronger."

He takes in a breath and looks down. "When I think of true love and companionship, I think of my parents, and now, I think of Firass and Johnny. They taught me what it means to care for someone selflessly. They showed me that in order to accept love, you need to deem yourself worthy. As Johnny and Firass blossomed as a couple, I grew to understand how to be a life partner myself."

My eyes sting, and to my left, I notice Dylan, Vil, Hamadi, and Andres, all tearing up. "Between the board games, brunches, beers, beachside walks, and the beautiful bromances we've cultivated along the way, I know my world is a better place because of you two. All of my happiness is connected to the love you boys share."

Natie raises his glass. His voice trembles as he continues, "I love you, onii-san . I love you, Firass. Your union has always been a lighthouse that could guide me through the darkest storms. Thanks for keeping me a part of your life." To my right, Johnny wipes his tears away while Firass rubs his husband's shoulder. "And cheers! To the happy couple."

Everyone applauds and sips—except Johnny. He rushes up to his brother and hugs him tight. My heart bursts at the sight of two brothers, tears in their eyes, all grown up and finding their happiness. I'm honored to have the privilege of being part of their story.

Hours later, Natie and I are curled up in bed. We're under the covers, freshly showered, wearing nothing but our boxers. He has plenty of his clothes to choose from in my dresser, but of course, I prefer him half-naked. He's all but officially moved into my apartment this past year. With his parents moved in at the cottage, and Johnny and Firass finding their own flat, this just seemed logical. Some nights we make love, and some nights we pass out early. But we always cuddle before falling asleep. With all the champagne and affection coursing through our system, I can't help clinging to my boyfriend. I can't get enough of this man.

"That was awesome. All the dancing."

"It was splendid," I mutter against his scalp in agreement.

He yawns. "Firass used to be a competitive dancer."

"Was he?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he and Johnny had some moves." I chuckle and rub his back. "Almost as entertaining as seeing Hamadi leading a dance to "Walk Like an Egyptian." Our friends are s-s-such characters."

Natie laughs and yawns again. "I'd bet my savings they'll do some crazy dance routine for our wedding."

What . Natie tenses up at the same time the words sink into my brain. He tries to wriggle free, but I hold him in place. We're both wide awake and sober now.

"Uh…did you say…?"

"Um, no!" he lies. I lift up his chin, but he stares away. The room is lit only by moonlight streaming in from the window. "I said…nothing…"

"Did you say our wedding?"

His cheeks darken, and it's sweet and adorable.

"That's like, uh…like a joke. People say that."

He pries himself off and rolls over. Twiddling his thumbs, he still refuses to meet my gaze. "What a fun joke that was," he says robotically.

"Natie." I lean over and smile at him. I run my finger on his smooth chest. "Sweetheart. Talk to me."

"Ugh." He groans and puts a pillow over his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

I gulp. "You…don't want to marry me?"

"What?" He shucks off the pillow and eyes me. "No, of course I do! I mean, probably? But not yet." We both sit up. "It's so soon. I love you, but…"

"I understand." I nod.

"I'm not, like, I'm asking you to get married," he rambles, toying with the sheets. "My brother just got married, and we've only been dating for—"

"Sweetheart, it's fine ."

"And clearly I was just caught up in all the vibes of tonight. Andres and Hamadi are madly in love, and Dylan totally wants to lock Vil down. Say, I wonder if they want kids? Dylan told me he's considering adopting, and—"

"Natie," I say. I place my hand on his knee in an effort to halt his digressive speech. "You're fine."

He looks at me and hums his skepticism. After a beat, he quietly says, "I just don't want to overwhelm you. We have a good thing going. I love you, and I don't want to chase you away."

My heart swells at his words. I bite my lip, and a frightening idea manifests in my heart. I hop out of my bed, turn on the lamp, and then promptly sift through my closet.

"Santos?"

"Here it is," I mutter. I pull out a brown cardboard shoebox and saunter back to the bed.

"Whatcha got there, Handyman?"

I open up the box. "Something ancient. Proof that you won't make me uncomfortable."

Natie studies the contents of my old box and pulls out the fabric.

"Is this…?"

"Indeed." I grin as he eyes the jacket in shock. "It's the blazer you gave to me at prom. Well, we swapped. Yours was ruined, so I insisted you take mine. And I think you said it w-w-was your brothers?"

Natie's jaw hasn't closed. In an eventful night, this moment might be the most remarkable. When he doesn't speak for almost thirty seconds, panic creeps up my spine.

Okay, in hindsight, perhaps keeping an article of clothing from your high school crush-slash-bully wasn't the flex I thought it was.

"You, uh…" I bite my lip. "You must think it's disturbing."

"This is wild," he mutters, still studying the fabric. Before I can freak out, Natie looks at me and says, "Not wild -wild, but like, interesting -wild. You kept it after all these years?"

I shrug. "It served as a memento of where I came from." He looks back down at the cloth, turning it in his hands. The stain is still there. "Does this…freak you out?"

"It's bizarre, for sure," he murmurs. Then, he looks me in the eyes and rubs my cheek. "But cute. You kept it because it reminded you of me?"

My cheeks prickle with embarrassment. "I…r-r-really liked you, Natie."

He grins. "And now?"

I take his hand on my cheek and hold it tightly. "Now I love you. I'd like to get married to you one day, but only if the timing m-m-makes sense for us. It can be later, it can be decades from now, but it's g-g-gonna be you. Me and you, together. So don't think you're chasing me away, Shiba." I lean in and kiss him gently. The sweet taste of his tongue on mine is a flavor I could never forget.

We pull apart for air, and he says, "Thank you, Santos."

I chuckle as he rubs my cheek. "For what?"

"For loving me…despite my teenage transgressions."

We laugh, and a minute later, I put away my boxed memento and shut off the lights. Natie and I hold each other as sleep overtakes us, kissing along the way. We may not be engaged, but tomorrow is a new day. We're more than ready to move past the mistakes of our youth and build a future, together.