As weddings went, Blane was impressed at how smoothly organized everything seemed to be.

Granted, he didn’t have to slip off and supervise the brides like Falcon’s mom did, and the event staff were taking care of all the remaining setup, but there weren’t any zip-tie or duct tape emergencies that he could see.

“Time to meet the rest of the family.” Falcon leaned into him as they lingered around the rows of empty chairs outside. At least, judging by the seating, there were only going to be fifty guests or less. Not many at all.

Blane wrapped his arm around Falcon’s shoulders and nodded, watching as Rosalina’s friends greeted guests and directed them through to the vineyard setup. “Less nervous?”

“Way,” Falcon agreed with a smile. “Thanks for… all that help. You really didn’t have to.”

“What else are boyfriends for?” Blane smiled. He was enjoying milking it, especially since Falcon got flustered every time he mentioned their pretense.

“About that…”

But before he could speak, a gasp from behind them. “Falcon! You were telling the truth!”

Blane watched Falcon’s face close off in a way he’d never seen before, and he instantly hated whoever it was.

They turned to see, and Falcon nodded once at the lanky, well-dressed man leaning against the nearest chair. “Spencer.”

Now I really hate him.

“This is Blane,” Falcon continued. “Blane, Spencer.”

“Pleasure,” Spencer said in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t.

Blane matched it. “Likewise.” He inclined his head and watched as Spencer reached out to try for a hug and Falcon didn’t move. If he tried to force the issue, Blane was prepared to intervene.

But, perhaps sensing this, Spencer didn’t. Instead, he stretched and shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Sooo. You two, huh?”

“Us two,” Falcon agreed.

“How long?”

“Feels like forever now,” Blane said, sliding his arm around Falcon’s shoulders and smiling thinly at Spencer. His patience for assholes—that didn’t belong to people he liked—was limited, and Spencer was treading way over the line.

Blane remembered his role: keep Falcon calm and away from Spencer. It didn’t stop him wanting to chuck Spencer into the vineyard, except that it would be a waste of grapes.

Spencer’s expression was barely a smile. “Huh. I bet it hasn’t been.”

“How about you?” Falcon asked. “Found yourself a nice girl to introduce to your family yet?”

There was a distinctly bitter edge to his voice that Blane hadn’t heard before, too. Blane wasn’t sure he liked this side of the normally annoyingly optimistic and cheerful Falcon at all.

“Nah. There are other things in life,” Spencer responded with a strangely casual smile. “But good for you, going after what you want.”

Blane nodded courteously. “I think I see more relatives to meet. Falcon?”

“See you,” Falcon half-waved at Spencer and turned as Blane steered him toward the entrance of the tent.

As they walked, Blane murmured, “You all right?”

“Yeah. Better than I expected.” Falcon seemed to come to when Blane looked at him, stirring out of his reverie. “It’s just weird, seeing him.”

Blane fought back the tinge of jealousy. He said he was over him. You should trust that. “Right. As loathe as I am to meet the relatives…”

“Oh, Aunt Vera will love you.”

“What is with your family’s names?” Blane laughed quietly.

Falcon grinned. “I don’t know. It’s just a tradition. We always say we like to be… distinctive.”

“You certainly are,” Blane murmured, squeezing Falcon around the shoulders.

Falcon turned an adorable shade of red and grabbed the closest family member for introductions—as it turned out, Vera.

“Finally!” Vera exclaimed when Blane took her hand. She shook it free and hugged him instead, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ve heard Falcon got the stick out of his ass at last. Or maybe in. It’s marvelous to meet the man who made him finally crack his code of silence.”

Falcon went red and stuttered while Blane tried not to laugh.

“Er… good to meet you, too,” Blane managed.

“Oh, pah. You can’t tell me we didn’t know you were seeing men,” Vera told Falcon matter-of-factly, patting his cheek. “But your sister beat you to the punch on getting the balls to tell us. I don’t know if I have any rainbow pins left for your wedding.”

Falcon half-raised his hand as if stunned, turning his gaze to Blane for help.

Blane covered his mouth and cleared his throat. “Um. It’s great to meet the family, too.”

Vera was undaunted. “There was you and that boy—Spencer. Is he here today?”

Falcon’s flushed cheeks faded to pale and his eyes widened. “Don’t—why do you—did you know?”

“He is here,” Blane added in a murmur, although nobody was in earshot.

Vera scowled. “Did he break your heart? I always suspected. I’ll bend his ear.”

“No…” Falcon trailed off, but he fidgeted. “Look, you can’t tell anyone.”

This will last all of ten seconds. Blane bit his tongue and glanced sideways at Falcon, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“He didn’t want to tell anyone about us. When I finally told him it was my way or the highway, he ran the other way.”

“Not even your side of the family? Coward.” Vera snorted. “Oh, I’ll definitely bend his ear.”

“Aunt Vera—”

But she was off to the refreshments table, still shaking her head.

Blane chuckled as Falcon swivelled his head to look at him. “What did you expect? Does she normally keep family gossip to herself?” he asked. “She seems rather… ah… open.”

Falcon winced. “Good point.”

“I have the feeling this is all going to go…” Falcon trailed off.

Blane put a finger over Falcon’s lips. “Not on your sister’s big day.”

“Quick, find me some wood to knock on.”

Figuring better than to say it out loud, Blane just gave Falcon a dirty grin and a wink.

Falcon broke out laughing. “Yeah, I walked into that one.”

“Like I walked into you.” Blane wrapped his arm around Falcon’s waist and led him to the opposite side of the aisle from Spencer, near the front.

Knocking on the wooden chair did absolutely nothing, but it seemed to make Falcon feel better when Blane caught his eye and did it.

Falcon smiled at him, leaning into his side as the rest of the small wedding party began finding their seats.

Everyone will get through today perfectly fine.

* * *

It turned out to be the best wedding ceremony Blane had ever been to. Mainly because it was the shortest, but it was also sweet—no being handed off by anyone, just both brides entering, hand-in-hand.

Flower petals were thrown, the guests were encouraged to holler and cheer when they kissed over their new rings and a bunch of flowers. The vows were short and lacked any weird connotations of either of them suddenly being the property of the other.

Everything about it was a coming-together and a beginning, not an end. It was the kind of wedding Blane wanted.

Someday.

Not immediately. Not necessarily with the man next to him. But if things worked out that way…

Blane didn’t even realize he was looking at Falcon and not ahead until he reeled backward, greenery and blossoms nearly flattening his face. Falcon’s hand was suddenly there, too.

“I think it was supposed to be yours,” Falcon grinned as he held the bouquet in front of Blane’s face. “I hope you weren’t angling for a nose job.”

Blane barely resisted the response he wanted to give, but he saw the corners of Falcon’s eyes crinkle, like he was reading his mind. “Thanks for saving my face. Literally, too.”

Falcon was offering him the bouquet, and suddenly it was his turn to be embarrassed and very conscious of those around him cheering and laughing.

Is this… does this… no, play along. Don’t take him for granted. Blane gulped but took the bouquet, then leaned in to kiss Falcon.

Rosalina’s cheer was the loudest of all, and she had a wickedly purposeful glint in her eye.

She totally intended that. Blane shot her a half-glare, half-thankful look, not even sure himself which emotion was stronger.

Her shameless grin back at him said it all, and Blane was surprised at the emotion that took hold within his chest: warm, happy, safe.

Belonging.

They were welcoming him with open arms, and he was deceiving them. Maybe less than he fooled himself into thinking, but he had to fix this.

Jenny’s bouquet had gone to the other side of the aisle, where an older man in perhaps his seventies was kissing someone Blane assumed was his wife. Those around them awwed at the sight. Even Blane was unashamed of how warm and fuzzy it made him feel.

“That’s enough of this romance crap,” Rosalina called out, to surprised laughter. “You’re here to party. Let’s party!”

Blane thought that an excellent idea indeed, and before Falcon could see his face, he stood up and stretched, the bouquet in one hand. “Drinks?”

Falcon looped his arm through Blane’s, his voice soft. “Drinks.”