Page 66 of Unfinished Noise

Nathan wiped his hands on a napkin. “So… best man?”

Spencer looked up. “You want me?”

“Yeah,” Nathan said. “And I’ll be yours.”

Spencer nodded once, slow but certain. “Okay. Deal.”

It wasn’t sentimental or dramatic. It didn’t need to be. It was two men sitting at a café table, planning futures.

Spencer finished his sandwich, leaned back, and let the moment settle. Tonight he’d see Jamie, and he’d have the rings. Everything would start shifting toward the life he wanted. And he couldn’t wait.

Spencer slipped back into the hotel before Jamie, the ring box a secret treasure in his pocket. He kept checking the time, pacing a little, pretending he wasn’t doing exactly that. The room’s deep silence pressed in, amplifying the stillness.

He kept replaying the morning—Jamie’s picture, the two of them leaning into the frame like they couldn’t contain their excitement. The earrings weren’t only silver hoops anymore; in Spencer’s mind they’d become small flashes of confidence, catching the light in a way that made Jamie look a little bolder, a little more himself. And that grin—wide, bright, eyes crinkled at the corners—hit Spencer differently now.

Earlier, it had made him smile.

Now, it felt like a glimpse of the life they were building. Jamie trying something new wasn’t about getting a reaction out of him; it was Jamie growing, experimenting, stepping into the person he wanted to be. Seeing it in the photo had been one thing. Spencer couldn’t wait to see the earrings in person, to see how they moved when Jamie walked, how they caught the hotel light, how Jamie’s entire face lit up when he talked about them.

It wasn’t about the hoops or the grin anymore. It was about the future Spencer suddenly saw with startling clarity—and the man he wanted to share it with.

The door finally clicked open. Jamie stepped inside, cheeks a little flushed from the heat outside, hair slightly messy, and those three silver hoops catching the light like tiny sparks. He looked proud of them, too—chin lifted a little, eyes bright.

Spencer’s breath hitched. “Holy shit,” he said, walking over. “You look incredible.”

Jamie’s smile widened. “You like them?”

“Like them?” Spencer reached out, brushing his thumb lightly along the edge of one hoop. “I love them.”

Jamie’s ears went pink, and Spencer’s chest tightened in that familiar, stupid way he never admitted out loud.

“Come on,” Spencer said, stepping back. “We’ve gotta get ready. Dinner at six.”

Jamie nodded and headed to the bathroom to change. Spencer pulled on dark jeans and a fitted black button‑down, something simple but nice. Jamie came out in a soft gray shirt and black slacks, earrings glinting every time he moved. Spencer stared for a second too long.

Jamie noticed. “What?”

“Nothing,” Spencer said, though it wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

They headed out and took an Uber to a Mexican restaurant Jamie loved—warm lighting, colorful tiles, the smell of cilantro and grilled meat drifting out the door. The host led them to a private booth tucked in the back, quiet and cozy.

Jamie slid in across from him, eyes already scanning the menu even though he always ordered the same thing.

They talked about their day—Jamie’s trip with Alfie, the piercing shop, Spencer’s errands, Nathan’s opinions. Jamie laughed at that part, shaking his head.

“Nathan always thinks he’s in charge,” Jamie said.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed. “But he’s not.”

Jamie grinned. “Obviously.”

Their food arrived—Jamie’s favorite enchiladas, Spencer’s fajitas—and they ate, comfortable. Spencer kept touching the ring box in his pocket, thumb brushing the edge. His heart thudded harder every time.

When the plates were cleared, Spencer nodded at the server. “Champagne, please.”

Jamie blinked. “Champagne?”

Spencer’s pulse kicked. “Yeah.”