“Uhhh.”

“You love me, John?”

“Yes, God, yes.”

“You love me so much you won’t make me go to another venue after today?”

“Yes, I swear to God, yes.”

“Good boy, really good. And you love me so much you’ll finish the patio this weekend?”

Somers was trying to nod, but Hazard’s vise grip prevented him.

“Words,” Hazard said.

“Yes,” Somers moaned.

“Good boy. I think you need to come. Do you need to come?”

Another frantic attempt at nodding.

Hazard moved his hand faster. “Come.”

Somers rutted up into his touch and came.

The blond man was still gasping, slumped against the counters, when Hazard scooted closer and kissed him. And then kissed him again. And then again, turning Somers’s face lightly with one hand, kissing every inch he could reach. When he got to Somers’s ear, he whispered, “Very good boy,” one last time, and then he stood.

Somers groaned; it sounded like pure satisfaction.

“And that, John, is how you seduce someone: make your demands before you get them off. Now get up and let’s shower so we can go see this fucking venue.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

OCTOBER 24

THURSDAY

10:13 AM

WHERE THE FUCK are we?” Hazard asked as they drove mile after mile along a state highway he’d never taken before. Oaks and maples and pines whipped past on either side. The leaves were bright this year: vibrant reds and oranges, the result of the long, hot summer. The windows were down, and the day was perfect: cool, but just warm enough with the sunshine. The fragrance of sap and balsam and crisp autumn leaves drifted through the car.

“It’s just a little farther.” Somers showed his phone. “The next right.”

“And we are going to choose a completely new venue because, let me see if I understood this correctly, Hershel Gromman, your father’s ninety-seven-year-old accountant, who is retired and whom I did not even know we were inviting to our wedding, needs a special pureed diet that the last place cannot accommodate.”

“He’s my father’s favorite accountant. Oh, and because it’s bigger. My parents brought me another hundred names they insist we include at the ceremony.”

Hazard wasn’t normally given to screaming, but he thought by the time he finally got married, he was going to be pretty much an expert at it.

At the next right, they turned. The drive was long, taking them through the growth of old trees until they found a neat, new asphalt parking lot and a chapel. It had a cross, but nothing to mark a denomination, and the design was pleasing, although Hazard couldn’t quite match it with any particular style: energetic lines racing up to the sky; long walls of windows that looked out on nature; every surface, where possible, treated to look raw and natural: unpainted timber and cedar shake. A handful of cars were parked outside.

“Damn it,” Somers said. “We’re late. If they’re showing the place to someone else, we’re going to have to wait.” He looked at Hazard and said, “This is because you had to get handsy.”