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He glanced at Snow to find the man frowning at the view as he brushed a hand down his gray sweater. Snow had gotten his nickname from his hair turning silver in his twenties, back when he was still in the Army. This penthouse had been a refuge for him as much as it had been for Ian, so he imagined the surgeon was feeling the same melancholy.
“Come on, let’s join the others.”
Carrying his wine into the living room, Ian settled on the black sofa, next to Rowe. Lucas, his hand idly holding a glass of some kind of amber-colored alcohol, sat in the chair closest to the fireplace. Snow took the other end of the couch. Ian looked around at his friends and had to smile. So many things had changed for them. It had started out as just the four of them, and now they all had husbands or boyfriends. Their lives were no longer solitary outside of their foursome.
“You remember that night Ian made the crab puffs and we got drunk here?” Rowe asked. “Let’s do that again.”
“I remember you face-planting behind the couch,” Lucas murmured, a grin teasing the corner of his lips. His black hair was slicked back from his angular face, and he looked comfortably lazy in a pair of jeans and a blue sweater that made his eyes more gray than green.
Lucas sat sprawled in the chair, and Ian couldn’t help but remember the night they were talking about—when Lucas had been so worried about Andrei, who’d gone undercover in an illegal cage-fighting ring. Lucas had been very different that night. Vulnerable. It was a word he’d never thought he’d use with Lucas. He was always an immovable wall of strength and determination, but when it came to the man who captured his heart, Lucas became vulnerable in all the best ways.
“Times sure have changed,” Ian said softly. “We have a lot of memories of this penthouse.”
Lucas’s shoulders shook and he covered his mouth with one hand.
“What?” Ian demanded.
“I was thinking of the time Mel and Snow got so wasted they were singing ‘Dancing Queen’ at the top of their lungs while shaking their asses out on the balcony.”
Rowe’s loud bark of laughter filled the penthouse, and Ian’s heart swelled to hear it. He knew Rowe missed his deceased wife, but he was glad he could now remember her with less pain and more joy. That woman was happiness personified, and it was all she would have wanted for her husband.
Snow leaned his head over, putting it against Ian’s. “Half my good drunk memories are thanks to her.”
“Only half?” Ian teased.
Snow lifted his head and grinned at Ian. “The other half I was too drunk to remember.”
Everyone groaned and Snow snickered.
Rowe hummed. “Drunk Battleship.”
“Fuck you!” Lucas shouted suddenly, and Rowe gave an evil cackle. “I was finding those damn red and white pegs all over the fucking house for months after that.”
“Not my fault. Snow and Ian were cheating.”
Lucas flipped Rowe off while Ian and Snow laughed. Ian couldn’t argue with him. He and Snow had teamed up against Rowe in a random game of Battleship, and yes, they had cheated terribly.
“So many good memories,” Rowe agreed.
“Bringing Daciana home from the hospital for the first time.” Lucas looked down and patted the arm of the chair. “I fell asleep so many times in this chair while holding her after a late-night feeding.”
“I wonder who will live here next. You’re leaving it fully furnished, aren’t you?”
Lucas nodded. “This furniture isn’t all that old, so I might as well. Andrei and Ian have been shopping for the new house, so we’ll be all set.” He set down his drink and got up to walk to the bar. “I think this night calls for the Vintage Bourbon.” He got the bottle down.
Snow groaned. “I can tell we’re not getting out of here sober.”
Rowe rubbed his hands together and got up to grab one of the drinks Lucas had poured.
Lucas handed Snow and Ian glasses and held his own up in a toast. “To new beginnings.”
They clinked glasses and Ian took a sip of the expensive bourbon. It was definitely smooth, but he preferred the wine. He set his bourbon next to his Cabernet. “I’ve got two different glasses going on here, so yeah, I’d say we won’t be leaving here sober. That lasagna should be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
Lucas sat back in his seat and swirled the alcohol around in his glass. His gaze pierced Ian. “Enough time for you to fill us all in on what’s going on since you were attacked.”
Ian picked up his wine and took a sip. The red exploded on his tongue, and he sighed with pleasure. “I don’t want to talk about that tonight.”
“Too bad,” Snow retorted. “I’d like to catch up as well.”
