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And was he even serious?

Sam, the man who’d started dating Cameron several weeks ago, came up to the bar with a blond man then, and I blinked out of my flustered haze to greet the stranger. “Hi, Sam, welcome! Who’s your friend?”

He grinned widely. I’d gotten to know him a little better since he’d been attending the biweekly DASC meetings with Cameron, and he was cool as hell. I made a mental note to ask him to grab a beer with me one night, Daddy to Daddy. Not that he knew that about me at the moment, but I thought he’d be a good confidant. “This is Oliver. I met him . . . well, online, sort of?”

Oliver, dressed in a perfectly tailored gray suit with a patterned baby-blue silk tie that was slightly loosened at the neck, chuckled beside him, though he looked a little tired. I suspected that may have been a chronic state.

The newcomer glanced at his friend. “It’s okay to share where we met, Sam, if you’re cool with it.”

Sam sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “Okay, we met at a trans Daddy meetup on the Daddy’s Boy app.”

“Oh? I didn’t know they had those,” I offered, genuinely surprised but glad to hear it. “When was this?”

“This past fall,” Oliver offered. “And now he can’t get rid of me.”

Sam laughed. “That’s right, fucker. Now order your beer.”

The four of us laughed as Oliver ordered an old-fashioned—man after my own heart—and Sam ordered his usual dark lager. I muddled the orange slice with sugar and bitters as I asked a few more questions, got to know Oliver a little better. Turned out, Sam had asked Ethan if his friend could join the Daddies and Subs Club meetup, and Ethan had been thrilled. Which he confirmed when he came up to order his own drink.

After everyone in the DASC had been served, the bar picked up, and soon I was slinging drinks with barely any breaks. But every chance I got, I watched Tristan from across the room. His laugh seemed a little less forced tonight, and I hoped that was because he was ready to give me an actual chance.

Cool it, Henry, I chastised myself. He could’ve just been flirting, or maybe he wants another one-night stand. You don’t know what he’s really after until you talk to him.

Which was absolutely true. But as the night progressed without a chance to do so, my mood got increasingly worse. Maybe I’d imagined his proclamation. Maybe I’d gotten my hopes up—again—just for them to be dashed like the debris of a shipwreck crashing against the rocks fortifying the shore.

Apparently, my misery made me morosely poetic.

“Hi, Daddy.”

I jolted at the soft whisper spoken directly into my ear. I jumped back, turning to see Tristan standing right next to me. “What . . . how . . . ?”

He smirked, pulling me out from behind the bar. I was right on the edge of it anyway. “Ben said you could use a break”—he nodded at my bar manager, who slid in behind me at that moment and seamlessly started filling drink orders—“and I thought we could talk.”

Ben snagged the white bar towel I’d slung over my shoulder and smacked my hip with it. “Go. I’ve got this. You’re off the clock for the rest of the night.”

I raised an eyebrow at him despite being secretly thankful. “Um, which one of us is the boss?”

He chuckled as he poured a pilsner from the tap. “Come on, man. You know I’m really in charge around here.”

I scoffed playfully as Larry, a regular, tipped his half-full glass in agreement. “Shut up, Larry,” I grumbled, making the man guffaw.

Ben’s laugh was full-bodied now, and I smiled gratefully back at him.

“Thanks, man. See you tomorrow.”

He waved me off, and Tristan led me to what I considered our table though we’d only used it once. I’d been tempted to put a reserved sign on it just because, but then I thought it’d have been stupid to tie up seating like that. But I never liked it when someone else sat there.

Yup, I was definitely a romantic. And I was so gone for this man.

When we reached the table, he slid in first, giving me just enough room to sit. Neither of us had thought to bring a drink, and I found myself wishing I had something to occupy my hands, if only a glass of water. Come to think of it, my throat was as dry as a desert—

“So, Henry,” Tristan started, and instantly my gaze shot to his. He reached for the hand I had resting in my lap. “First, I want to apologize for that morning in your bedroom.”

I opened my mouth to say it was fine, but Tris cut me off with a hand in the air between us.

“It was not fine, and you know it.”

I smirked—he’d anticipated what I was about to say. We were so perfect for each other, and I found myself praying to the universe and all the gods that ever existed that he was here to stay. “Okay, you’re right. And thank you.”