Epilogue

Ten months later

"I do love a wedding."

Jon shot Kieran a heated look as they took in the crowd scattered across the country club field. "Oh yeah? You've only said that about a hundred times. And that's just in the last few days. You tryin' to tell me something?"

Kieran grinned. "I said it plenty of times when these two tied the knot the first time."

It had been during the Condors' bye week. They'd been sitting out on Kieran's terrace, sharing some beer and enjoying the sunset, when the text had come in about Beck and Micah.

In fact that was what Kieran had said. "I love a wedding," he'd proclaimed.

Jon had not felt so positively about it.

But then Kieran hadn't spent the last few weeks trying to prevent his second-year safety, Beckett West, and the newly traded corner and Beck's ex-best friend, Micah Rose, from killing each other.

"Guess murder wasn't on their minds after all," was what Kieran had said next.

And well. Jon couldn't really disagree with that assessment, even though, before that text, he'd been very sure that was the case.

"You did," Jon agreed. "There was a reason you were willing to indulge all of Carter's bachelor party planning."

"It was the big fat wad of cash he gave me," Kieran said, but he was smiling. Besides, they both knew the money had had almost nothing to do with it.

"Next you're gonna tell me that falling in love has made you a romantic."

"Lie. I was always a romantic. Just didn't have an outlet for it," Kieran said. Reached out and took Jon's hand. Squeezed it. Because now he could. Because they were doing this, now, officially, in public .

They'd agreed that Beck and Micah's wedding reception would be their first appearance together.

The season was over, the Condors making the playoffs despite nobody believing they would, and Jon knew it was time.

To Kieran's credit, he hadn't been angry or upset or happy. When Jon had suggested they go to Micah and Beck's wedding reception together, he hadn't even looked surprised—or hurt or upset or anything else—he'd just asked when they were leaving.

Jon squeezed Kieran's hand back. "You want a drink?"

"Sure, but I think the resident bartender should take care of our libations, tonight," Kieran teased. "Make sure the staff here is doing their jobs right. You go mingle."

Kieran must've caught a glimpse of his panic. "I'll be back, no worries. You're not gonna have to make small talk alone."

"Sure, alright."

He'd just watched Kieran wander in the direction of the bar when Grant walked up.

"Jonathan," the owner of the Condors said, reaching out and shaking his hand. "Good to see you here."

It had been a long season, and somehow, in the middle of it, the owner had gone from Mr. Green to Mr. G to Grant . Now, Jon counted him as a friend.

"Couldn't have missed it."

"I'm sorry—did I miss something? You were just standing there, uh . . .holding hands with the bartender from the Pirate's Booty."

Jon grinned. "You didn't miss a thing."

"So when you told me you could date someone and nobody would know . . .that was from personal experience." Grant looked like he was trying to process this news in real time, and despite his very big brain, he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"Yep. For about a year now."

"The whole season?" Grant's jaw dropped.

"Yep," Jon repeated, nodding. "I'm assuming you don't mind."

"How could I?" Grant retorted wryly. "When the entire world has spent the last few months completely obsessed over my relationship?"

Jon laughed. "I appreciate you taking all that heat, so the rest of us could continue to do whatever we wanted, under the radar."

"You're welcome," Grant said. "But really. I am happy for you two. He seems like a good guy."

"He's the best," Jon said simply.

"Carter says he pours the best Mermaid's Asshole, but I guess we'll take that endorsement with a grain of salt."

"If you've never had a Mermaid's Asshole, then you're missing out," Jon teased.

Grant looked skeptical.

"Mr. G! And Coach!"

Speak of the devil, there was Carter Maxwell in the flesh, walking over, hair even blonder in the bright sunshine and a wide smile on his face.

"Carter," Grant said, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Good to see you," Jon said, nodding at his star wide receiver.

"Apparently I've been missing out," Grant said.

"On?" Carter sounded really curious now. Which was a dangerous state, but they'd managed to navigate a whole season without Carter blowing up—in fact Carter seemed like he was happier than ever, with the team and with his own boyfriend.

"I told him he needed to try a Mermaid's Asshole," Jon explained.

"Well, if Kieran doesn't tell you to drink one, then you can't," Carter said very seriously, very earnestly. "I tried to order one once without his approval, and well, I regretted that. A lot."

"Noted," Grant said. But he turned to Jon then, and he already guessed what the owner was going to ask.

"So what do you drink?" Grant asked. "Since you're dating the bartender with the superpower, I'm sure it's something good."

"What, wait," Carter exclaimed. "You . . .and Kieran?"

"Oh yeah." Jon tried really hard not to laugh at Carter's outraged expression. The man thought he knew everything , but that wasn't even remotely true. "Actually, apparently his superpower doesn't work on me."

" What ." Carter continued to look blown apart.

"I know, it's such crap," Jon said.

"What's such crap?" Kieran walked over then, carrying two drinks.

A beer for himself, and well, whatever he'd ordered Jon, he knew it would be good, because the man had never poured him a bad drink. Even when it wasn't him doing the pouring. But they were all different. Always different, in fact. A kaleidoscope of different drinks.

"What's this?" Jon asked him as Carter's jaw continued to drop farther with Kieran putting his arm around his waist. Like he'd been doing it this whole time. Like he was born to do it. And maybe he was.

"Pomegranate martini."

"Him . . . you . . .together," Carter stammered.

Jon had never seen him, not once, at a loss for words, so he was going to enjoy this while it was happening.

"You alright, Carter?" Kieran asked, also grinning like his whole day had been made.

"I'm . . .re-aligning my whole universe," Carter said.

"Sounds challenging," Grant said, laughing as he patted him on the shoulder.

"But you're gonna be equal to the challenge," Jon said firmly.

"Oh yeah. I'm just . . .what is your drink?" Carter spluttered.

Kieran looked at Jon, his gray eyes very warm, full of love. "He's all the drinks, Carter. All of them. Every drink in the universe."

Comprehension dawned on Carter's face.

"Good for you two," he finally said.

"Come on, Carter," Grant said and took his elbow. "Let's go find Ian."

"Ian. Yes. Ian ." Carter muttered his boyfriend's name as Grant dragged him off.

Jon laughed as they walked off. Turned to Kieran. "That was a really good line. You been practicing it for the many questions were gonna get about me and your superpower?"

"Actually," Kieran said, leaning in and brushing a kiss across his cheek, "it's only the truth. You couldn't just be one drink, I realized. You're all of them. Every mood. Every feeling. Everything I'll need."

Love billowed inside Jon. "You are a romantic."

"Guilty as charged."