Page 32 of Second to None

He hesitated before he shot me a smile, something almost proud in its tilt. “All right. I was about to make a stupid joke about how it’s cute, the way Levi is slipping right back into his protective boyfriend role.”

“That’s just Levi,” I said and didn’t dare look at him. “He’d defend someone to the death, even if they don’t deserve it. That’s just who heis.”

“Maybe.” Mason’s mouth quirked upward. “Anyway, I didn’t make the joke because there’ll be time for that later. Right now, I’d rather know how we can help.”

“What he said,” Jace piped up.

Ellis raised his hand. “Same.”

God, I loved these guys. I did. But also… I slid Levi a searching look, my chest a little tight. “Hey, just, are you sure? I don’t want you to?—”

“Cass,” he cut in. Gentle amusement coated the edges of his tone, mixed with something I couldn’t quite place. “I’m sure. But if you ask me one more time, I’ll change my mind out of sheer irritation.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Mason said. “Let’sdothis.”

“So, what,” Jace said. “We just drop some pictures and let the internet have at it?”

Again, I glanced at Levi. He looked at ease, leaning back against the piano with a loose smile playing about his mouth. As though he still belonged here. As though he’d never left.

This room, with its cream walls and high, wood-beamed ceiling, had been our sanctuary. A mix of modern and vintage guitars were mounted on one wall, the piano’s walnut finish gleaming softly. The seating area, with its worn-in leather couch and armchairs, was anchored by a Persian silk rug. When he’d bought it online, I’d teased him about gay stereotypes, likely projecting an unhealthy dash of internalized homophobia. He’d seen it as an invitation to take me apart with his hands and mouth on this very rug, until I’d happily admitted that yes, it really tied the room together. Now could hepleasestop teasing and fuck me already?

The rug had stayed behind when he moved out. I’d always wondered if it had been left by mistake.

Focus.

“We didn’t really get to the details yet?” I turned it into a question without meaning to.

“Pictures as a first step, yeah.” Levi watched me, his head tilted slightly. “And then something like a nice dinner out, I guess.”

“Engaged by morning,” Mason said as though it was an echo of some previous discussion. “Married by lunchtime. At least if you trust the digital rumor mill.”

Jace gave a grave nod. “Some stranger on the internet said it, so it must be true.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Ellis said. “I’m sold.”

I did what any sane person with an intact self-preservation instinct would do—I ignored them. Instead, I turned to Levi. “Something kind of low-key, maybe? I mean, I’m happy to spring for, like, a Michelin-starred Japanese restaurant. But Italian was always more our scene, wasn’t it?”

“Italian’s great.” Levi paused. “But who says you’re paying?”

I frowned. “Well, you’re helping me. So.”

“But I’m older.”

Really? I ignored Mason’s half-stifled laugh along with Jace pretending to pass Ellis the popcorn. True comedians, the whole lot of them. “I’m taller,” I said. “Also, you’ve got a daughter while I’ve got no one to spoil but my accountant.”

And my parents, who never said no—a bigger house, a nicer car, monthly transfers. Oh, they loved me. But they loved the money, too, so when I’d told them about Levi, their immediate worry had been that we might want to come out.‘Think about what it could do to your fanbase. It’s not like anyone needsto know, right?’

Knowing Levi, he’d have exploded at the sheer unfairness of it all. I’d badly wanted him and my parents to get along, so I’d never told him about their reaction.

“Charity,” Levi said like it was a sentence all by itself. “That’s how you could spend it. Build hospitals or save giraffes rather than pay for my burrata and tiramisu.”

Okay, this was getting silly. What was his actual problem here? I studied the way sunlight slanted across the angles of his face. “Your burrata is not gonna break the bank, you know.”

“I’mnot your charity case,” he said sharply—and, oh.

“Levi, no.” I shook my head, thought about getting up so I could... could dosomething, not even sure what. He’d always been proud, sometimes to a fault, and if he felt that my net worth made us anything less than equals—he’d hate that. “It’s just some damn cheese. You could buy truckloads of it. But if it makes you feel better, we’ll split the bill.”

“I’m paying,” he said and fine, whatever. Picking up the tab wasn’t how I’d prove I was a different person. There’d be other ways. I had, what—five days? No pressure.

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