Perfect Together by Kristen Ashley

“Won’t be a problem.”

“You’re the best.”

He smiled his cool-guy smile and Lucie took off.

Fortunately, she was halfway down the walk (he could see through the window over the sink, which had a view to the front yard), when Manon chanted, “You like her, you like her, you so, so like Lucie.”

“Ef off, you dork,” Sabre growled.

Remy was at the wine fridge, and he could growl too.

“Son.”

“I didn’t say the full word, Dad. And she’s being a pill.”

Remy got out the Dom Perignon and said, “Manon.”

“All right, Dad,” she muttered, then stuck her tongue out at her big brother.

He sighed.

Wyn came out from behind her fortress of the length of the island to move close enough to Remy to slide the coupé glasses toward him.

No flutes for Wyn.

Coupé glasses held far less liquid, but they were far more chic. He didn’t think she even owned a flute.

And that wasn’t about appearances.

That was about aesthetics.

That was something they had in common.

Not a detail of their home did they fight about.

She had perfect style.

And he had perfect design sense.

It was a perfect match.

He popped the cork.

“Yippee!” Manon yelled.

He grinned and grinned bigger when he saw Wyn smiling.

He poured glasses and the kids approached the island as Wyn passed them out.

Ballsier than any male he’d ever met, it was not a surprise when Sabre got there first with the toast.

Glass raised, he said, “Here’s to courage and truth and all that jazz, and for essentially existing, Yves giving us an excuse to eat crab cakes!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Manon cried.

Remy would too.

They all raised their glasses and drank.

He’d have to wait until he managed to maneuver the kids being gone and him still there before he got into one of the things he’d engineered this celebration for.

But now, since they’d just done the important part—making sure Yves knew he had their unconditional love and support—Remy could get to the add-on.

“Thought I’d see Theo here,” he said, then smiled into his glass as Yves choked.

“Oh man,” Manon mumbled.

Sabre grunted.

Yeah, the kids knew.

They were close. Now, and they always had been.

Thick as thieves.

All their lives.

He’d never had that, until Wyn gave it to him.

Then he had it every day.

Until he walked out.

He quit smiling.

“Theo?” Wyn queried.

“You know?” Yves asked, his eyes glued to his dad.

“I didn’t until yesterday because I didn’t know your orientation until this week. Now that I know, you men are very bad at hiding it. And how about until your old man gets used to things with you and Theo, we have a little less patting on the ass?”

Manon burst out laughing and Sabre’s chest moved with the same, but silently.

Yves was bright red.

“What are you all talking about?” Wyn asked.

“I have a boyfriend, Mom,” Yves said.

Her head jerked and her thick blonde hair swayed around her shoulders.

“Theo…from the squad?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Yves answered, sounding strangled.

“Oh my,” she whispered, then recovered. “Well, I suppose we don’t have to worry about anyone confronting you with bigotry. He’s, what? Six ten and five hundred pounds of solid muscle? And you’re no slouch. You’d have to have a death wish to try anything with either one of you.”

Yves relaxed and chuckled. “He’s six five, Mom. And he’s only about forty pounds bigger than me.”

“He’s also older than you,” she noted. “He’s in college.”

“He’s one year and two months older than me. He’s a freshman in college, I’m a senior in high school. He’s nineteen. I’ll be eighteen in a few months. It isn’t a big deal.”

“One year and two whole months,” she murmured, a light in her eye.

She was playing.

She was pleased.

She was maybe even relieved she knew the kid and knew he was a good kid.

Of course, she was also a woman, so she saw her good-looking son and knew he wasn’t taking whatever he could get, but instead, he’d scored a good guy who was also good-looking.

Which meant she wasn’t a man, so she wasn’t thinking any further than that.

And Remy wasn’t going there.

He’d already had to deal with it in his face when he’d come home from his office to grab something he’d forgotten, saw Sabre was up from school, and walked in on him giving a girl a ride in his bed.

Now, until he had grandchildren, and therefore the bonus of such activities to spoil, he wasn’t thinking about it again with any of them.

“He’s on standby to come over,” Yves said.

“On standby?” Remy asked.

Yves nodded to him. “I was going to tell you about him and ask if he could come over so you could meet him. And he’s waiting for my call, or, um, text if you’re not ready.”

“I coach him, son. I spent two hours with the guy yesterday.”