“Are you nervous?” Parker asked from the passenger seat, his eyes twinkling at me in the moonlight.

“Are you kidding? Of course, I’m nervous,” I answered. Had it not been for the slacks I had to wipe my hands on, I probably would’ve crashed the truck. My palms were so sweaty they could barely grip the steering wheel. We were on our way back to the high school to pick up Clay and the equipment for the ceremony. The closer we got, the tighter my stomach grew.

“Why? There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Parker said.

“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have anything riding on this,” I said.

“Yes, I do! What if I screw up and make a fool of myself in front of other people?” Parker asked.

“Don’t be stupid, you’ll be fine,” I said. “Besides, you and Clay have practiced this so much I bet you could do it in your sleep by now.” It was true too. They'd been rehearsing so much, during and after practice, during and after school, that I barely saw Parker anymore. It didn’t bother me, in fact, it was a relief, and it seemed to be improving Parker’s general attitude, so I didn’t object to any of it.

Still, things had happened fast, and before I knew it, the wedding was upon us. I don’t know what came over me to make me decide to ask Clay to be my date for the reception, but somehow I found my spine and decided to ask him anyway. Now, however, as we pulled into the parking lot of the school, I wondered what kind of horrible mistake I'd made.

“It’s fine, Dad, really,” Parker said, patting me on the thigh. I laughed. It was a little absurd to have my teenaged son comforting me about a date. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? That seemed to be the running theme of our relationship since Parker came back to Beauclaire. Maybe I had more to learn from him than he did from me.

“Yeah, if you keep telling me that, maybe eventually I’ll believe you,” I said and climbed out of the truck. Parker jumped out behind me, and we walked together in silence toward the entrance of the school. All the lights were on, probably some security measure, and I heard banging going on inside. It must’ve been Clay, trying to haul out all the equipment he wanted to take to the reception. I was more nervous about the reception than Jason was, and Jason was the one getting married.

“Ready?” Parker asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. It’d been a long time since I’d been on a proper date—I’m talking years—so I wasn’t surprised I was nervous, but I wished I wasn’t. It wasn’t like it was the first time I’d ever done it, though it was the first time I'd gone on a date with another man. It was funny, though, that wasn’t what made me so nervous. It was more the fear of people looking at us funny. How couldn’t they? Clay was young, and a supermodel and I looked like a leather handbag, grandpa in training.

Still, the only way out was through, so I followed Parker into the school, my heart pounding in my ears with each of my steps. We reached the band room quickly, much quicker than I would’ve liked, and as soon as I stepped inside, I saw Clay standing there. He's already changed clothes for the occasion. He wore an expensive looking peach colored suit and bent over some a piece musical equipment—it was an excellent view.

“Hey there, good lookin',” I said, and Parker laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, hi, I didn’t hear you come in,” Clay said, whirling around to face us. His cheeks were beet red from the blood that had rushed to it, but it only made him look cuter than he usually did. As I stood there staring at him, I still couldn’t believe he'd agreed to be my date. This young supermodel decided to be on my arm at my brother’s wedding. What kind of upside-down world was this? It wasn’t the first time I'd asked myself the question, given all of the weird shit that'd gone on in my bar since we'd decided to sign a contract with Jason’s fiancé to save it, but it seemed like it never ended.

“You look great,” I said, and I meant it. Clay's uniform was flawlessly cut to his figure, showing off all the sharp angles of his body. It was just like his face, his cheekbones that could cut steel if he decided to use them that way. Next to him, I would probably look like a dried-up piece of beef jerky, but somehow he found me attractive anyway, so I guess I had to run with it.

“You clean up well, Mr. Smith,” Clay said, smiling at me as he straightened his jacket. My knees buckled, and I thought I might faint. I couldn’t explain why, but something about the way he called me Mr. Smith went right to my core. Nobody called me that, not unless they were trying to be an asshole, but Clay would never be that way to me. We didn’t know each other very well yet, but from our interactions it was clear Clay wasn't that kind of guy. There was nothing disingenuous about him; he was all real, all the time.

“You don’t have to flatter me,” I said, and stepped forward to help him with the giant case he'd been loading. It turned out to be a drum, a giant bass drum, but it looked like he was having trouble getting it to close. “Do you need help?” I asked.

“Well, since I’ve got two big, strong men with me now, I guess I can’t do everything myself, can I?” he asked. Again Parker chuckled, looked at me and rolled his eyes.

“You two are disgusting; you know that?” Parker asked, but he seemed to be enjoying it nonetheless. What must he think of all this? It had to be weird for him, his dad going on a date with his band teacher, but I wouldn't have guessed it from the way Parker was acting. Maybe he thought it was cool; maybe he thought it was good for both of us. I had no idea, but I was glad.

In any case, it didn’t take us long to pack up all the equipment that Clay wanted to bring. It took longer for us to haul it out to the truck and load it. By the time it was done, we were all drenched in sweat. Jason would be embarrassed, but it wasn’t like he’d never embarrassed me before, so to hell with him.

“Is that everything?” I asked.

“I think that’s about it,” Clay said.

“Parker, I guess you have to sit in the middle. We don’t have any room for you to sit anywhere else,” I said.

“No, that’s okay, let me sit in the middle. I'm much smaller than Parker is, I think he needs the room more than I do,” Clay said and my face burned. Did he just want to be close to me?

“Are you sure?” Parker asked. “I don’t mind sitting in the middle; really, it’s not a big deal.”

“No, that’s fine, I’ll do it.” Without another word, Clay climbed into the truck and weaseled into the middle of the seat, his legs straddling the gearshift. It took everything I had not to make a stupid joke about it. I climbed into the driver’s seat, turned the key in the ignition, and off we went.

“Are you excited?” Clay asked Parker and Parker nodded enthusiastically.

“Dude, I’m over the fucking moon,” Parker said. “Wait until the kids at school hear about us rocking this place to the ground, I don’t think they'll be calling me names after that,” he said, and my heart twisted. Was that why Parker was doing all this? Was he just trying to win approval from his peers? Not that I didn’t know anything about that.

Clay looked at me, his brows furrowed, and I shrugged. I didn’t know what to say.

We got to the bar relatively quickly. There wasn’t much traffic for a Saturday night, even though it was still early, and I parked near the back door in the alley. Mike and Kai and the staff we'd hired for the event were still busy putting the final decorations together for the entrance, and I didn’t want to get in their way while we unloaded everything.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked after we'd brought everything inside. I felt silly standing there watching Clay and Parker do everything themselves.

“You could get me a drink, if you want,” Clay said with a wink.

“Are you sure you should be performing under the influence?” I asked.

“There’s nothing you can't do under the influence,” he said, and Parker laughed. Maybe Clay wasn’t such a great influence after all, but I went to the bar and made him a screwdriver anyway. I didn’t know what kind of stuff he liked, but he seemed like the type who'd prefer something fruity and sweet.

“Thank you,” he said and took a deep swig of it when I passed it to him. That was all he said for a while as he and Parker continued putting everything together, setting up the drum set, tuning the guitar, everything. It was amazing to watch, and I couldn’t wait to hear what they had to play for us.

When they'd finished, we sat waiting for the rest of the crowd to show up. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how many people would come, but given Dan's status, I figured it would be a lot. I mean, it wasn’t every day a national celebrity decided to get married in Beauclaire, so it was a big deal for the locals.

“You guys look comfy,” Jason said as he walked through the front door.

“Well, our work is mostly done here. That’s more than I can say for you,” I said, and Jason chuckled.

“Isn’t this criminal? I’m doing all the work at my wedding, unbelievable,” he said. “Anyway, you must be Clay. I’m Jason, George’s younger and much better-looking brother. Nice to meet you,” Jason said and offered a hand for Clay to shake. Clay took it graciously, shook it once, and released it, smiling at Jason.

“Nice to meet you too, but I don’t know that I'd agree that you’re the better-looking brother,” Clay said, and winked at me when I turned to look at him.

“Ignore him, he’s just trying to score brownie points, brownie points he doesn’t even have to earn,” I told Jason and Jason smiled at me.

“Well, I don’t mean to run off on you guys, but I've got a ceremony to prepare for, so if you’ll excuse me,” Jason said.

“Of course, see you soon,” I said, and Jason nodded before he disappeared behind the bar, no doubt to get dressed. I had no idea what to expect. I’d never been to a same-sex wedding before, much less one held in a bar, so it was anyone’s guess how things might go.

“Well, we should probably go get ready to play,” Clay said, glancing down at his phone to check the time. It was already 6:30, and the ceremony would be starting any minute. Parker nodded and followed Clay over to the stage, leaving me alone at the bar. I didn’t mind; I was excited to watch them play from afar, admire the technicality—and Clay’s body, of course.

While I waited, I made myself a drink, more vodka than anything else. The nerves that'd gripped me earlier hadn’t gone away, and I didn’t anticipate they would get any better going forward. Clay picked up his guitar and slung it over his shoulder while Parker sat behind the drum set and got ready to pound out the rhythm.

People poured into the bar, many of whom I didn’t know. When Mike appeared with a small red pillow in one hand that held the two rings, we couldn't avoid it any longer. The time had finally come. As goofy as Mike looked all dressed up in his best suit, complete with a plaid undershirt—of course—I couldn't have thought of anyone better to marry Dan and Jason.

Jason and Dan appeared from behind the bar, both of them looking immaculate in all black suits, their eyes alight from the lighting and the joy in their hearts. Before, I'd been a little bit jealous of Jason, but now I felt nothing but pride for him. He was my little brother, and he'd given me more grief than I cared to admit over the years, but I was still happy to see him happy.

And, I hoped one day I might experience something similar.

Mike nodded to Clay and Parker, and they started playing, the stereotypical wedding song, Here Comes the Bride as Jason and Dan stepped forward, both of them crying. Amazingly enough, the song wasn't ridiculous with a drum set and electric guitar behind it, and Parker and Clay sounded great.

“Ladies and gents, thank y'all for being here tonight. We’ve put together this shindig to witness the union of my best friend, Jason Smith, and the man who stole him away from me, Dan Montgomery,” Mike said into the microphone that someone had passed him in all the shuffling. People laughed and cheered, me along with them. It was surreal. Of the two of us, I never expected Jason to be the one to settle down first—well, technically I guess I'd already beat him to the punch, but did a divorce still count?—but there he was, holding hands with Dan, ready to commit his life to him forever. They were an odd couple—a country singer and a bartender—but if they could make it work, why the hell couldn't Clay and me?

"You know, people laughed at me when I told 'em I was getting a certificate online to marry folks, but I bet they ain't laughing now!" Mike said into the microphone to more laughter.

"But alright, look, I know y'all are just here to party, so let's skip all the formalities and get to the mushy shit, shall we?" Mike asked, and the entire bar erupted in cheers.

"That's what I thought. These two gents have already prepared their vows, so I'll turn it over to them," Mike said. He placed the microphone on a stand between Jason and Dan and handed one of the rings to Jason. Jason smiled through his tears, and I almost lost it right along with him. My little brother was getting married! It was hard to believe.

"Dan, when you first walked back into my life, I didn't know what to make of it, but now that you're here, you'd better not ever walk out of it again," Jason said to laughter. "I'm not really into words, so just know that this ring says everything I can't," he continued and slipped the ring on Dan's finger.

It took a few moments for Dan to collect himself, but once he'd wiped his eyes and choked out a few more tears, he cleared his throat and took the second ring from the pillow in Mike's hand.

"Jason, I'm not sure what to say. I've written a lot of love songs over the years, Lord knows I have," Dan said to laughter. "But even those songs couldn't convey how I feel about you. I don't think words are adequate so I won't try. I'll just let the music speak for itself. I wrote this for you. It's called 'My Husband,' and I hope you like it," he continued. He placed the ring on Jason's finger, and Mike passed him his trusty acoustic guitar.

Dan played a slow, soft song that had no vocals for Jason, and by the end of it, everyone in the place was bawling like they were at a funeral rather than a wedding.

"Wow, y'all are killing me up here," Mike said into the mic as he placed Dan's guitar back on its stand. "I ain't leaked this much since my first time back in high school," he said, and everyone laughed. Leave it to Mike to be a clown.

"Well, I think we're at that point now, so go on, kiss or something so I can get my shit together," he said, and Dan and Jason lunged at each other, holding one another's cheeks as they kissed. Not a single person in the bar stayed seated for it, everyone jumped up and applauded. Music boomed from the bar's speakers, ushering Jason and Dan to the dance floor as everyone raised their drinks in a toast to the newlyweds.

They joined hands and started to dance, the same song Dan had just played live now coming from the speakers.

When Jason and Dan's first dance was over, and the cheering had died down from their second kiss as a married couple, Clay and Parker erupted into an upbeat song. Hand-in-hand, Jason, and Dan walked down the center of the bar, right toward me, and Clay and Parker kept on playing until the newlyweds disappeared behind the bar.

After they were gone, Clay and Parker played for a few more minutes until the cheering stopped. A pre-recorded track of music began playing again as they stepped off the stage and came toward me.

"Would you like to dance?" I asked Clay when he stopped in front of me. He laughed, blushing, and looked at Parker for approval. Parker nodded.

"Go ahead. I'm happy to see you both happy," Parker said, and without another word, I swept Clay away by the hand to the dance floor along with all the other couples who'd stormed it after Jason and Dan left. We swayed back and forth, a reasonable distance between us, to the beat of the music, and I couldn't have imagined a better moment. It was perfect.

"Look at you, being all gentlemanly," Clay said, still blushing as he stared down at the space between our bodies.

"Well, we've always gotta leave room for Jesus, right?" I asked, and Clay burst out laughing.

"The hell you do! Come on, Dad, don't be bashful," Parker said and smashed us together. My nose met Clay's—our crotches too—and I'd never felt more uncomfortable in my life.

"I'm so sorry," I said, and Clay chuckled.

"Don't be," he said and pressed his forehead against mine as we continued to sway.

"You're OK with this then?" I asked.

"More than OK with it," Clay answered. I melted away into the music and the feeling of Clay's body against mine, one hand holding his, the other placed lightly on the small of his back.

It was hard to put into words, but it just felt right, like it was meant to be.

"Are you okay?" Clay asked after a few moments.

"Yeah, why?"

"You've just got this goofy grin on your face like you got away with theft or something," he said.

"No way, you're the thief. You stole my heart," I said, and Clay groaned. "What? Too cheesy?"

"Yeah, just a little bit," Clay laughed. "But I don't mind."

"Can I ask you something? And feel free to tell me to buzz the hell off if it's too much," I said.

"You can ask me anything."

"Do you, uh... like me? You know, like that?" I asked, and Clay chuckled. Using just one finger, he lifted my gaze to his by my chin, stared deep into my eyes, and planted a big kiss on me. Though my first reaction was to pull away, it passed quickly. Why should I be afraid? It was what I wanted, so I kissed him back, parting his lips with my tongue to meet his.

When we broke, Clay was beaming, and the other couples around us were cheering, but Parker was loudest of all of them. He had his hands cupped around his mouth, hooping and hollering like he was cheering on his favorite football team or something.

"Did that answer your question?" Clay asked.

"Oh hell yeah," I laughed, and Clay closed his eyes, rested his forehead against mine again, and continued swaying to the beat of the music.

"What do you say we get outta here?" I asked, and Clay fixed his eyes on mine.

"Are you asking me what I think you're asking me?"

"You bet your perfect little ass I am," I said, pinching his cheeks. He jumped and looked at me like I'd farted at his mama's funeral—but he nipped me right back.

"What about Parker?" he asked.

"Hey Parker, can you get a ride home from Mike tonight?" I called over the crowd to Parker. He nodded and gave me a thumbs up and a wink, which made Clay groan and rest his head on my shoulder.

"I guess that settles it then," Clay said and pulled me out of the bar by the hand to my truck, laughing the whole damn way.