Page 34 of The Boss (Straight Men #2)

The highway stretched ahead of us, a ribbon of asphalt unspooling beneath the golden light of an early April afternoon. I kept my hands on the wheel, while Chris lounged in the passenger seat, one leg bent up on the dash, thumbing through his phone as he texted his friend. Queen played on the stereo, Freddie Mercury’s voice drifting through the cabin, underscoring the easy silence between us. It was the kind of silence that only came with time—the kind that settled into your bones, warm and unwavering, like the steady thrum of an engine on an open road.

Four months ago, I had walked away from my own wedding, breaking free from the life I was supposed to have. But fate—or whatever twisted sense of humor the universe runs on—had other plans. Because here I was, not as a groom, but as a guest at someone else’s wedding, watching love play out in a way that actually made sense. Funny how life worked—you thought you had it all mapped out, only to realize the real plan had been written in invisible ink, waiting to reveal itself when you least expected it. And sometimes, if you were lucky, it turned out better than anything you’d dared to want.

The past months had been a lesson in how fast things could change—and how right it could feel when they did. Chris and I still worked together at Nova, but he’d made it clear that he wanted to keep our personal life separate from business. He stayed in his old position, turning down any suggestion that he report directly to me. What he didn’t know—what I hadn’t told him yet—was that I had other plans for him. A promotion was coming, one he had earned through sheer skill and dedication, not because he was sleeping in my bed. Head of Software Development. It was only a matter of time before I made it official. Maybe I’ll tell him next week, on our trip to Barcelona.

And speaking of beds—he lived in mine now. The house I’d bought with Chantelle had never felt like home, just a gleaming monument to the life I’d been trying to force myself into. It was too big for us, too cold, too full of expectations. Neither Chris nor I had any desire to live there, so I sold it. My condo at Waterplace Residence suited us better. It was where we built our life together, where I woke up to the sound of him padding barefoot across the hardwood floors, where we spent nights tangled in each other, our bodies molded together like they were made to fit.

As for Chantelle—mutual acquaintances had mentioned she was seeing someone new. Younger than me, but not as wealthy. I didn’t know much beyond that, and I didn’t ask. Whatever she was doing, I hoped it made her happy. Maybe she was like me, finally figuring out what she actually wanted instead of what had looked good on paper. Maybe one day she would forgive me and we could go back to being friends.

That reminded me—Chris had somehow managed to convince me to reach out to my father. We’d spoken on the phone a few times, tentative conversations that still felt strange after so many years of silence. Now, he wanted me to visit him in Virginia. I wasn’t ready to forgive him yet, but… for the first time, I could see the possibility. And a year ago, that would have seemed unthinkable.

In any case, the future looked bright—clear and open, with no script to follow, just the life we were building together, one day at a time. And as for the present…

“So,” I said, breaking the comfortable quiet. “Who are these people again?”

Chris snorted, shaking his head like I was a lost cause. “Jeff is Tyler’s dad. He’s marrying his boyfriend, uh—Daniel? Dan? Anyway, they’ve known each other forever. Daniel used to be Tyler’s childhood friend and next-door neighbor.”

I let that sink in. “Wait. So Tyler’s dad is marrying his son’s childhood friend?”

Chris shot me a look. “Yeah. Keep up, old man.”

“Right.” I took a moment to process all that. “And Tyler is…?”

“My buddy, who invited us, you dumbass. He’s a wrestler, too. You’ll like him.”

I hummed, but my mind was stuck on the part where a man in his fifties was marrying someone barely out of college. I hadn’t expected to attend a wedding with an even bigger age difference than the one between Chris and me, but what the hell—love worked in strange ways. “Age gap thing, huh?” I mused.

Chris cast me a sidelong glance, his lips curving. “You’re the one to talk.”

I smirked but let it drop. The truth was, I didn’t give a damn about the numbers. Age, race, gender—none of it mattered. Love was love. And if I’d learned anything in the past few months, it was that the heart didn’t give a fuck about rules. That’s what made it so powerful. That’s what made it worth the risk.

* * *

By the time we reached the church in Stamford, the place was already packed. A quaint little chapel, nothing flashy, but it had that warm, timeless charm—the kind of place where vows felt sacred, where love was celebrated without pretense. The scent of old wood and candle wax lingered in the air as we stepped onto the stone pathway leading to the entrance. Soft chatter and laughter spilled from the gathered crowd, guests dressed in sharp suits and elegant dresses, their breath forming faint wisps in the lingering chill of early spring.

A voice cut through the noise. “Chris! You made it.”

A broad-shouldered guy in his twenties waved us over, dark-haired with a strong build that hinted at years of athletic training. His easy grin stood out against the crisp black of his suit, his whole demeanor radiating warmth. Tyler, I presumed.

Smiling, Chris pulled him into a quick hug. “Wouldn’t miss it. Um, this is Zac.”

Tyler turned to me, his grin widening as he gave me a once-over, his eyes sharp with curiosity and amusement. “The infamous Zac. Good to finally meet you.”

I arched a brow, shooting Chris a look. “Infamous?”

Chris just smiled, all innocence. “I might have mentioned you a couple times.”

Tyler smirked, exchanging a glance that suggested a lot more had been said.

“Nice to meet you too, Tyler.” I shook his hand, his grip firm and assured, a silent display of confidence. He carried himself like someone who never second-guessed his place in the world. Chris was right—I liked him instantly.

“Guys, this is Blake,” Tyler said, shifting as his boyfriend stepped forward.

Jesus. If Tyler was built, this guy was a damn fortress. Blake was a towering beast of a man, his suit straining against thick, corded muscle, the fabric hugging broad shoulders and arms that looked capable of crushing skulls. He wasn’t as tall as me, but he was even denser, his sheer presence commanding attention.

I extended a hand. “Bodybuilder?” I guessed.

Blake let out a deep, rumbling laugh, his grip like a vise as we shook hands. “Former MMA fighter. Now just a coach.”

“Remind me never to piss you off.”

Blake’s lips curved. “You look like you could put up a fight.” His gaze flicked over me with quiet assessment, sizing me up the way fighters do.

Chris and Tyler burst into laughter.

“Why don’t you pull out your dicks and measure who’s bigger while you’re at it?” Chris teased, shaking his head. “Some dudes think everything is a competition.”

“Seriously, guys,” Tyler added, still chuckling.

Blake and I exchanged an amused glance. They weren’t wrong. We were the older ones in our relationships, yet here we were, sizing each other up like a couple of teenage boys in a locker room.

At that moment, another pair of guys approached, their footsteps muffled against the stone. Tyler gestured toward them. “This is my brother, Matt,” he said, pointing to a slightly leaner copy of himself. “And this is Finn, my friend.”

Finn—messy auburn hair, a little scruffy, casual in a way that contrasted the rest of us—gave a mischievous smile and bumped fists with Chris. “His best friend,” he corrected. “BFF. Ride or die.”

Chris snorted. “Oh, we’re doing this?”

“ Now who’s competing?” I murmured, leaning into Chris, and he elbowed me lightly.

Tyler ignored us and spoke to Chris. “You remember Finn from Gettysburg?”

Chris smirked. “How could I forget? Bad at darts, good at drinking.”

Finn beamed, unbothered. “Damn straight.”

Matt shook his head. “Speaking of straight, I think we’re the only ones here.”

“Yeah, and the only single ones,” Tyler added, making everyone chuckle.

“And where are the grooms?” I asked. “Do we get to meet them?”

“After the ceremony,” Tyler said. “They’re getting ready to enter the stage. I should probably get over there and see if they need anything.” He clapped Chris on the shoulder. “We’ll catch up after, yeah?”

“No worries, T-bag,” Chris quipped. “Go and help your dad. We’ll be here.”

Tyler rolled his eyes at the nickname but grinned as he and Matt moved toward the front of the church. Blake and Finn lingered, their presence comfortable.

Blake nodded toward the entrance. “Come on, I’ll take you to your seats. Ceremony’s about to start.”

As we followed him inside, the chapel’s warmth embraced us, the murmuring guests settling into their pews. The soft strains of music played from the organ, a gentle overture to what was about to unfold.

* * *

Jeff and Danny stood at the altar, a striking contrast—one exuding strength and experience, the other radiant with youth. Jeff, rugged and broad-shouldered, carried his years with an effortless grace, his graying hair combed in a way that only made him look more distinguished. His silver beard, neatly trimmed, framed a strong jaw that gave him an aura of wisdom and reliability. He looked like an average Joe, but possessed a kind of quiet confidence that commanded attention without trying. Danny, by contrast, was all lightness—slender and radiant, his dark blond hair falling in soft strands around his face, his features still untouched by time’s weight. There was something almost ethereal about him, the way his bright eyes shone with unguarded emotion, the way his entire being seemed to vibrate with quiet exhilaration.

Their fingers were entwined, their hands clasped in a hold that felt both delicate and unbreakable. The priest spoke in soft, measured tones, but all I could focus on was the way they looked at each other—like nothing else in the world existed beyond this moment.

When the time for vows came, the last murmurs in the church faded into silence.

Jeff cleared his throat, his eyes never straying from Danny’s. “As many of you know, I’ve been down this road once before,” he began, his voice steady despite the emotion thickening beneath it. “But it didn’t work out, because we weren’t the right match for each other. I don’t regret it—we had some wonderful years, and I got two wonderful sons—but I haven’t found love. Not real love. I thought that was something other people got to have. I told myself I didn’t need it, that I was fine on my own. And then… you happened.”

Danny’s breath hitched. His fingers tightened around Jeff’s.

Jeff exhaled, his lips twitching in something that wasn’t quite a smile, wasn’t quite a sigh. “I’ve known you for years, but you still managed to walk into my life like a storm I never saw coming,” he continued, his voice growing rougher. “And you turned everything upside down. You reminded me what it felt like to be wanted again. To hope. To dream. You taught me that true love knows no boundaries.” His breath wavered. “Danny, you are my second chance. My best chance. And I swear to spend every day proving to you that I will love you—fiercely, unconditionally, without fear—until the very last breath leaves my body.”

Danny let out a wet laugh, swiping at his eyes. “Jesus, how am I supposed to follow that ?”

Soft chuckles rippled through the church, the warmth of it cutting through the heavy emotion like sunlight through stained glass.

Danny inhaled, centering himself. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, but no less certain. “Jeff, you were never supposed to happen to me. I never believed my teenage dream would come true.” A small, knowing smile touched his lips, his eyes brimming with something raw and unguarded. “But when I look back, you were always the one. You were my first crush. You were my first desire. My greatest desire. Yeah, I was a pervy kid. Sorry, Mom and Dad.” People laughed, but Danny went on. “And I realized that love doesn’t give a damn about plans. Or timelines. Or expectations. It just… is .” He swallowed hard, then lifted his chin, his gaze unwavering. “Some people might find this a bit… unconventional, to say the least. But I don’t give a damn. I always knew, from the moment I laid my eyes on you, I knew—I knew —I was yours.”

A hush fell over the church, reverent and thick with emotion, as if even the walls were holding their breath. Beside me, Chris interlaced his fingers with mine, his touch soft yet grounding. I turned my head slightly, taking him in—the shimmer of unshed tears in his eyes, the way his lips pressed together as if holding back a smile, or maybe something too big for words.

I knew he was thinking the same thing I was.

Some day soon, this would be us.

* * *

After the ceremony, the celebration spilled into a nearby venue, the space alive with light and music. The air hummed with conversation and clinking glasses, the scent of roasted meats and sweet champagne mingling with the crispness of fresh flowers lining the tables. A long banquet stretched beneath glowing chandeliers, guests laughing between bites of rich, decadent food, while waiters weaved between them, refilling drinks, keeping the revelry flowing.

At the center of it all, Jeff and Danny sat side by side, hands still clasped, their happiness a beacon. Their love, their joy—it was infectious.

The DJ eased into the classics, and soon the dance floor filled. Tyler yanked Blake into the fray, his laughter ringing out as Blake feigned resistance before giving in, spinning him effortlessly. Matt and Finn, being without partners, found their way to each other amidst the crowd, their movements unpracticed but full of energy, bumping into each other as they laughed at their own lack of coordination.

Chris gave a mischievous smile, his eyes bright as he watched them. “I think Tyler’s trying to turn them gay.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s a solid strategy.”

And then, as if on cue, the opening notes of Murder on the Dancefloor blasted through the speakers. A collective cheer went up, bodies surging forward. Jeff and Danny took the center, hands linked, twirling, lost in their own world, the years between them dissolving into pure, boundless bliss. The lights flashed, the beat pulsed, and the entire space became a living, breathing thing—heat and movement, sweat and laughter.

Chris’s fingers slid through mine, tugging me forward. “C’mon.”

And for once, I didn’t resist. I let him pull me into the storm, let the music crash over me, let the weight of the past, the weight of everything , slip from my shoulders. For the first time in years—maybe in my entire life—I let go. I danced like I didn’t give a damn who was watching, like the only thing that mattered was the warmth of Chris’s body near mine, the way his grin split his face, reckless and free.

At some point, he slipped away, weaving toward the DJ booth. I barely noticed, caught in the rush, until he was back, his hands on my shoulders, his breath warm against my cheek.

Then the song changed, and the opening chords of I Want It That Way drifted through the air.

I froze. My head snapped toward Chris. The goofus remembered .

He was grinning, smug and pleased with himself, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I put in a request.”

A laugh burst out of me, breathless and disbelieving. “You asshole .”

But I was already pulling him in, pressing my forehead against his as the music wrapped around us like silk. Others followed suit, bodies swaying, couples folding into each other. Jeff and Danny, lost in their own slow orbit. Tyler and Blake, moving with easy, practiced rhythm. Even Matt and Finn, still goofing off, still caught up in the energy of the moment.

No one cared about labels. No one cared about expectations. It was just love. Pure and simple.

Chris’s fingers curled in the back of my shirt, his voice barely audible over the music. “You know this means I win, right?”

Like it was even a contest. Like he hadn’t already won a long time ago. But I wouldn’t give him that. So, I just huffed, shaking my head, my lips brushing his ear as I murmured, “Shut up and dance with me.”

And we did, laughing all the while.

The End