Four cups of coffee were too much. I avoided the mirror in the restroom of Lavender Leaves. I knew I looked like shit, no reason to confirm it with my actual reflection. I’d barely slept Friday night, only to work like a dog all day Saturday at the firm, then another night tossing and turning on the pullout couch in the office. Maybe I should’ve gone home to Lavender Shores, but the thought of being alone in my bed was too… well, lonely.

Because two nights sleeping in the office was so much better. Plus, there’d still been work to do before driving back to Lavender Shores. Work on a Sunday morning. I supposed that was a small price to pay for my malpractice lawyer paycheck. Although, maybe a few less weekends working in the city and my marriage wouldn’t have fallen apart.

Right, work was the reason….

I stared in the mirror. The bags under my eyes made me look close to fifty, and I wasn’t even forty yet. “This job is killing you, Spence.” Startled at my own voice, I scowled at the mirror. “Damn it. I wasn’t supposed to look at you. And I sure as hell wasn’t supposed to get all reflective.” The scowl wasn’t helping me look any younger. I turned from the mirror and dried my hands. Although I thought I’d already done that. “And I’m talking to myself to boot. Though that’s not new.” I caught sight of my reflection once more and rolled my eyes.

Goddammit. Now I’m talking to myself about talking to myself.

I practically ran from the bathroom to cut off the downward spiral. And since when was four cups of coffee too much? I had at least two pots every morning at the office. Of course, that wasn’t typically followed by a drive to Lavender Shores. I hurried over to the counter. “Hey, Pete. Large Americano and throw a couple extra shots of espresso in there, will ya?”

Pete stared at me, bug-eyed. “I didn’t even see you come in, Mr. Epstein.”

“I ran straight to your restroom. Sorry, long drive. And since when did you start calling me Mr. Epstein?”

He shrugged. “Since you come in here wearing a suit on a Sunday. For the Pride parade no less.” He winked. “Plus, that ex-wife of yours might make you take your maiden name back now that the divorce is finalized.”

“Always up on the gossip, aren’t ya, Pete?” Although who wasn’t in Lavender Shores? I shrugged out of my jacket. I hadn’t even realized I’d been wearing it. Or had absentmindedly thrown on a tie. “I’ll be staying an Epstein. Need to keep the same last name as the kids, after all. Mind if I leave my jacket here during the parade?”

“Of course you can.” Pete didn’t offer any more words, resorting to clucking his tongue as he fixed my drink. Knowing him, he had all kinds of advice, the least of which was about keeping Erica’s last name. Probably all good advice. I just didn’t have the energy.

A glance around the shop revealed I was the only customer; everyone else lined the sidewalk outside the window. “You’re not joining in on the parade?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. However, I’m letting the marching band go by first. Last thing I want to hear is a bunch of high school kids blowing their brains out on trumpets.” He handed me my drink. “On the house, Spencer.”

“First you call me mister, and now you’re giving me a free drink?”

Pete leaned on the counter, concern etched over his aged face. “You don’t look good, kid. Seems like you could use some kindness.”

Considering that my throat tightened at his words, I supposed he was right. I set the liquid energy down, drew a ten out of my wallet, and placed it on the counter. “I don’t deserve it, Pete. Not today.”

“Yowza, boy. You truly are in a dark place. You need to have a chat with that therapist brother-in-law of yours.”

I snorted. “Now there’s an idea.”

He tilted his head in thought. “I guess Donovan is your ex-brother-in-law now.”

“Not sure that helps anything.” I grabbed my drink and turned away before Pete could drag more out of me. I raised my hand without looking back. “Thanks, Pete. Enjoy the parade!”

“You too, Spence. Do something nice for yourself after, or at least get some sleep.”

With a final wave, I joined the crowds outside. I weaved through the throngs, past Reyes Art Gallery and Lavender Realty, and came to a stop on the corner of Bluffs Boulevard and Ocean Way. I’d barely gotten situated when, sure enough, the sound of the Lavender Shores Sea Lions trumpeted in the distance. They were pretty good for a high school band, but I couldn’t blame Pete for wanting to miss it. All the blaring, clanging, and drumming was already making me edgy. Or at least it joined in with the caffeine, the lack of sleep, and the dark guilty conscience.

I glanced around the charming downtown. Picture-perfect as ever. Honestly, part of me wanted to hate the place. I’d come here thinking I’d start fresh. Instead, my prayers had been answered. Only, they hadn’t been. Not even close.

But Lavender Shores was charming, and even if it didn’t offer all I’d initially thought, it was home. And it had given me the two people I loved most in the world. No matter what else happened, I would always be thankful for that.

Soon the color guard cavorted by, their lavender-and-silver flags and streamers keeping time with the following marching band. The Pride parade was such a strange sensation for me. Always had been. My first year here, with Erica by my side, her gay brothers and uncles such big players in her life, it had seemed an odd celebration of love. By the third year, it only represented what I couldn’t have. But now… now it was just dark.

Not actually dark. The parade, as all things Lavender Shores, was beautiful, colorful, and classy. It was unlike any Pride parade anywhere else. There were no scantily clad men, topless dykes on bikes, or drag queens tossing out candy penis suckers. Not because any of those things were wrong, mind you, they just weren’t sophisticated. If you wanted such base behavior, which was fine, it truly was, then go to the Pride parade in San Francisco which was happening that very hour. Or any other Pride parade anywhere else. I’d heard old Jonathan Epstein, Erica’s grandfather, drone on about it by the hour. At first, I was skeptical. The limitations the town enforced seemed a little too like the ones imposed by my religious upbringing. But I’d been convinced the founders truly had no moral qualms with any of it, just the taste level. Not that the Epsteins had any stone to throw when it came to morality.

Maybe I’d earned my last name after all.

I let the cheering crowd mix with the blaring band to form a rather soothing buffer in my brain, blocking out thoughts and memories. It was nice, or at least relaxing. I continued to sip my coffee as the next traditional part of the parade began. The marching band was a given, as well as the five founding family floats, but after that, each year was switched up with a different theme. And even though I was no longer married to Erica, I still knew the latest theme was transgender awareness. The last few years had seen so much political divide around that issue, it was only right to remind the town that Lavender Shores had been founded as a safe place for all members of the LGBTQ community. Not just the first two letters.

The first float was the Kellys. Serious Debbra and her nutty husband, Robert. It took me a second to realize the horrendously ugly woman was Robert. It seemed he’d dressed in drag. Probably trying to make a nod toward the transgender community. And he looked utterly ecstatic about it. I couldn’t believe Debbra would allow him to make such a faux pas. Although, Robert could only be controlled so far. Their grown children, Heather and Andrew, waved from the float as well. Their oldest, Lamont, was nowhere to be seen. I was willing to bet he was hiding away writing another book. His hermit lifestyle might have been a better choice than the one I’d made.

After the Kellys came the Bryants. Then the Riveras, followed by the Carlisles. My heart thudded, and it had nothing to do with the caffeine overload. There he was. Donovan Carlisle. He was smiling at his mother and had his youngest nephew in his arms. I didn’t notice the rest of the family. Just him. I hadn’t seen him for months before the damn party on Friday. That night I’d noticed he’d gotten grayer, but now, in the sunlight, his close-cropped hair nearly sparkled. It looked like one of those arctic foxes—the black undercoat with the glistening silver tips. He wasn’t clean-shaven like he’d been at the party, and the stubble coming in matched his hair. He was stunning. He’d always been beautiful. For a moment, I paused. Maybe he wasn’t. He was getting older. He wasn’t as young as when we’d first met. Although neither was I. But maybe I had the filter of the years filled with desire messing with reality. I tried to see him through fresh eyes.

It didn’t work. He was still the handsomest man I’d ever seen. Thick dark brows, dark eyes, sharp jaw, cleft chin. A vision of him from the other night rose to the surface. Yeah, I wasn’t making up his beauty. I’d seen more of him than I ever had outside of my fantasies. That had been the kicker. He’d lived up to my fantasies. Sure, I’d seen him shirtless countless times as our families held pool parties and met at the beach. His tan skin, lean body, defined muscles, manly chest hair. All as known to me nearly as my own reflection. But I’d never seen him like I had in San Francisco. That cock was everything I’d imagined. More than. And the sounds he’d made. The feel of his release down my throat, in my mouth. I’d never done that before. Ever. That had been more than I’d bargained for too.

I’d known him instantly, despite the wolf costume. I think I might have even felt him before I’d seen him. The hair and jawline gave him away, and those eyebrows. A million things really. Things I’d committed to memory over the past decade. A million characteristic features that made him Donovan, no matter what he wore. I’d nearly left the moment I saw him in the other room. Fear raging through me of being discovered, being outed. But my costume was better than his, at least better at concealing, and only in my fantasies had he memorized the essence of me as I’d done of his.

Ultimately the fear of being discovered took a back seat to the possibility of finally having him. I’d never get another chance. I could have him, at least for a moment. He’d never know it was me. The rest of our family wouldn’t know. Even in those few seconds of deciding, I was fully aware of the guilt I’d feel later. Both because of him being family and because of my deceit. But I couldn’t pass him up. I’d dreamed of him for too long.

I hadn’t figured out how to make it happen, and then he was leaving, heading to the door. There’d been no time to plan, no time to think. What I’d waited for was slipping through my fingers and I’d never get it again, so I grabbed the chance and held on.

The entire thing lasted less than ten minutes. Probably less than five. But I’d replayed the moments over and over in the two days since. Half of the time in pleasure, the other half riddled with guilt.

Even though I knew I should, I couldn’t make myself regret it. It was the perfect secret. Donovan didn’t even know what we’d done, and I wouldn’t ever tell him. I’d hold on to those moments for the rest of my life. A treasure and a curse. One I didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t regret.

And there he was, no longer half naked. No longer coming undone inside my mouth. Donovan was once again the handsome therapist, member of a founding family. My brother-in-law, or ex-brother-in-law. And I was standing surrounded by all of Lavender Shores and a bunch of tourists and was as horned-up as a twenty-year-old. As the float passed, he turned from his mother and scanned the crowd. His gaze landed on me, and his smile faltered. Only for a moment, and then it was back. He gave me a little nod. The kind you offered the inner circle. The kind you give family. And then he was gone.

I wondered what the glitch had been in his smile. He’d almost looked scared. But that didn’t make sense. Unless he’d known who I was?

No... ridiculous. He hadn’t known. I’d worn a mask and half my face had been covered in fur. I’d even painted black around my eyes. I’d barely spoken, and not to him. I’d made certain not to look him in the eye, and I’d only messed that up once, when his dick had been in my mouth. No way he’d noticed then. Nah, he didn’t know. My guilt was eating at me, making me panic, that was all. Donovan simply hadn’t seen me since the divorce was finalized. He probably wondered if there were hurt feelings or if I somehow blamed him for his sister’s actions. That was all it was.

Then he was past, and it was the final founding family float. The Epsteins.

I hadn’t realized I’d gotten hard looking at Donovan until I noticed my dick deflating at the sight of the float, at Erica waving to the crowd like she was Miss America. Her gaze fell on me from a long way off. Her lips curved into a different sort of smile, one that lasted only a heartbeat. The kind that worked as if she’d lifted her middle finger.

I plastered a smile on my face. A gentle one as I prayed she’d never know what I’d done with her brother. And that he’d never know, while I was at it.

Erica stood by her father. Behind them, her mother, Kimberly sat with Ethan on her lap and held Emma’s hand, who stood nearby. The float was even with me when Emma finally noticed. Her beautiful face brightened, and she let go of Kimberly’s hand and rushed toward the edge of the float. “Dad!”

I ran, knocking into a couple of people. “Emma, stop!” She was going to fall.

She halted as I made it to the edge, her face scrunching to a condescending look that mirrored her mother’s. “I wasn’t going to jump, Dad.”

Of course she wasn’t. She was nearly ten, and often as graceful as Erica. In fact, that fleeting moment of excitement was the most childlike I’d seen her in a while.

Her annoyance was gone. “Are we still staying with you tonight?”

“Of course, princess.”

It was only then that I heard Ethan’s fit. I’d been too worried about Emma doing something completely unlike Emma.

“Dad! I wanna go with you.” Ethan slid off his grandmother’s lap and hurried to join his sister. My heart leaped again, and I jogged beside the float, catching up. Ethan would tumble off or jump. He was a klutz and didn’t seem to have an ounce of self-preservation.

“Get back to your place,” Erica hissed at them, then scowled in my direction, her beautiful mask slipping in front of the crowd for a moment.

“No, I wanna go with Dad.” He stomped his foot. A little too much disrespect for a six-year-old, but I couldn’t blame him. “I hate this.”

Erica glared at him with a similar expression. “Fine, get off.” She turned to Emma. “You stay where you are.”

Emma straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, looking every bit like the teenager she was going to be in a few years. Without a word, she took her place next to her grandmother once more.

Sure enough, at that moment, Ethan jumped toward me. The crowd gasped, and I lurched forward and caught him in my arms, dropping my coffee in the process. “Ethan, what were you thinking?”

He didn’t get a chance to respond, as Erica let her composure slip one more time. “He’s just like you.” She pointed to the ground. “And pick up your trash. Founding families don’t litter.” And then the float passed by.

I dropped Ethan to the ground, grasped his hand, and scooped up the coffee cup with my other, then smiled at the nearby crowd. “My son the daredevil!”

Some chuckled, but most were already focused on the next float.

Ethan pulled at me as we joined the crowd. “Can we get ice cream?”

“You don’t get to disobey your mom like that, throw a fit, and then get ice cream.” I nearly told him the real reason—that all the shops were closed for the parade—and then I remembered I was raising a six-year-old who needed to be a good man one day, despite his mother’s and father’s deficiencies.

His face fell, but he didn’t get teary or start to throw a tantrum. Six was so much easier than four. “Okay. Maybe later?”

I nearly laughed.

Ethan grinned up at me. “Either way I love you.”

That time, I did laugh. “Wow, little dude. Did your sister teach you that one? Manipulate through affection.”

He shrugged. “Can we?”

“Once Emma is with us, but only after dinner tonight, in which there will be vegetables.”

He sighed. “I shoulda stayed with Grandma.”

Emma, Ethan, and I ended up at Lavender Leaves after the parade. They both had brownies. I justified the earlier-than-promised treat by saying it wasn’t ice cream, though we all knew ice cream would still happen. I really just needed more caffeine. It was movie night. And the only way I was going to get through a full-length cartoon was caffeinated.

The brownies were half gone when Lamont walked into the coffee shop. It seemed he’d attended after all, just not been on the float. I lifted my hand in greeting, then noticed who followed him.

Donovan Carlisle was all smiles and handsome grace, until he saw me. He flinched, and that smile faltered again, though he quickly fixed it back into place. That settled it; I wasn’t imagining his reaction to me.

He and Lamont greeted Pete, then headed our way. I tried to think of what to say. That hadn’t ever been a problem before. At least not for ages, and Donovan hadn’t even been aware of my struggle around him all those years ago. There was no reason for him to do so now.

Luckily, the kids handled it for me. They’d both been so captivated by their brownies, they hadn’t realized their favorite uncle had come in.

“Uncle Donovan!” Ethan noticed first and scrambled from the table, brownie forgotten. He rushed toward Donovan, not waiting to make sure he was ready, and simply leaped upward.

And part of why he was their favorite uncle was because Donovan was always ready. He bent at just the right time and swooped Ethan up into a hug, as if he weighed no more than when he’d been three.

Though she didn’t yell like her brother, Emma let out a pleased squeak beside me and hurried over to wrap her arms around Donovan. He grasped Ethan in one arm and wrapped the newly free one around Emma.

Lamont grinned at them and flashed an easygoing smile my way. “I keep hoping Heather or Andrew will turn me into an uncle one day. Donovan always makes it look fun.”

“He also makes it look easy. I assure you, it isn’t.” I was thankful that Lamont provided a distraction from Donovan. “I’ve heard Andrew and Joel want kids.”

“They do. Well, I think they do. I know Andrew does. Even after nearly two years together, they’re still in the honeymoon stage. I doubt kids are in the forefront of their minds right now.” Though he still smiled, there was a sad quality to him, but that wasn’t unusual for Lamont. We didn’t have a ton of interaction, but he’d always seemed rather sad.

“You can play uncle to mine whenever you want.”

Lamont’s smile faltered.

“Oh, right. Well, when they’re with me, in any case.” I smiled but couldn’t help shaking my head a bit. How had I managed to forget that the Kelly family and the Epstein family only tolerated each other on the best of days? I hadn’t been divorced from Erica long enough to forget something like that.

Donovan joined us at the table, plopping Ethan into a chair and snatching away his plate. “Looks like I found myself a brownie!”

Ethan hesitated for only a second. “You can have it if you want.” Unlike his halfhearted manipulation with me earlier, there was no doubt Ethan genuinely meant the offer. He’d do anything Donovan wanted. They both would.

Donovan ruffled Ethan’s hair and slid the plate back. “You two are the sweetest monsters.” He patted his flat stomach. “However, I think I need a brownie all my own.” He turned to me, and this time his smile didn’t have a glitch, but I could swear it felt forced.

The memory of his expression as I looked up at him with his cock in my mouth flitted through my head. I shook it away. Not the place. Not the time. Not that there was a place or a time for that. I glanced away, afraid he’d see the memory in my eyes, or that looking directly at him would make him realize it had been me two nights ago.

“You doing okay, Spencer?”

I forced myself to glance at him, enough not to be rude or overly weird. “Ah, yeah….” How was I supposed to take that? Was I okay as in, was I hurting over the divorce? That I’d had to interact with the man Erica left me for when I picked up my kids? As in, did I have a confession I needed to make about my sexual activities of late?

Lamont gave me a strange look. “You don’t seem too sure about that.” He chuckled good-heartedly. “You do look a bit tired. Do you need Donovan and me to play uncles tonight while you get some rest?”

Both kids let out pleading squeals at that.

“Please do!” Emma clapped her hands, no longer looking like a preteen. “We’re watching The Dark Crystal tonight. Ethan’s never seen it, and Dad says he’s finally old enough.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” And there was that look again. The falter of a smile that I’d never seen cross Donovan’s face before. “I’m gonna have to pass. That movie scares me a bit.”

Ethan sat up straighter. “Really? It scares you? Maybe I’m not old enough to see it.”

Donovan backpedaled quickly. “No, bud. I was just teasing. I have… a lot of work tonight. But rain check?”

There, right there. The look that crossed Lamont’s face. Further proof that I wasn’t making up Donovan’s strangeness.

“You have a client on Sunday night? On Pride? Who the—” Lamont stopped talking at the quick glare Donovan cast his way.

Donovan cleared his throat and smiled again. “Well, good to see you all. We should get going.” He rounded the table and kissed both of the kids on their heads, while they continued to beg him to come over. And then he gave me a nod. “Good night, Spencer.”

“Night, Donovan.” I dared to look at his eyes, but he’d already turned away. I spared a glance at Lamont, who shrugged. “Good seeing you, Lamont.”

“You too, man.” Lamont waved at the kids. “Enjoy The Dark Crystal. It’s a classic.” He turned and followed Donovan, gesturing toward the counter as they walked out the door.

I glanced at Pete.

His eyes narrowed as he studied them before turning his gaze on me.

I straightened and looked away, like I’d been caught by Ms. Phipps in church as she’d turned around in her pew to shush me when I’d been a kid.

There was no way Donovan could know it was me the other night. No way. So maybe, now that his sister and I were divorced…. I used to think that he felt… or that he always wanted….

I cut off that train of thought. Those moments had only been in my imagination, seeing what I wanted to see, and they would only lead to disaster. I’d already played with fire much more than I should’ve. Clearing my throat, I looked at my kids. “So, are we ordering in Chinese or pizza for the movie?”