“I can’t believe you abandoned your boyfriend at a party in order to come hang out with us.”

I looked up from the little skull cookies I was arranging on a platter. Jackson was retaping some orange streamer that had fallen, although I wasn’t sure why. Why he was fixing it, that was; I was pretty sure gravity was the reason it had fallen, since Rosa definitely couldn’t get up that high. “You mean why I’d want to come to a party that everyone else bailed on, where I’m going to be hanging out with my two friends and their daughter and handing out candy, instead of going with my super-hot boyfriend to an adult party where I could be getting drunk and making out with said super-hot boyfriend?”

“Well, when you put it that way . . . Yes, why the hell are you here?”

I set the cookies on the table with the other food that was meant to feed six and would be feeding three. I saw leftovers in my future. “Part of it is because I said I’d come here first and I felt bad that everyone else bailed on you. Also, Emmett promised me his special deviled eggs. But! The real reason is that Logan’s friends have been having drama again. I got the impression he was going to their party to keep the peace and would rather be here with me. He insisted I come here. I think he’s going to use me as an excuse to bail if things get bad.”

Emmett must have heard me, because he laughed as he came down the stairs with Rosa in his arms. “So he’s using you to bail on a fun party and come to a party that everyone else bailed on because it wasn’t fun?”

I frowned. “This party is going to be rockin’—by which I mean, rockin’ the baby to sleep, but . . .” I snapped a cookie in half. “I can’t believe everyone else ‘had another party to go to.’”

“Yeah,” Jackson said. “I thought at first you guys were all getting together without us—because hanging with a baby is so not cool—but then you were still free, so I guess I was wrong.”

My frown deepened. What if everyone was having a party, but they hadn’t wanted to invite me either? I shook my head, trying to clear that thought. “We’ll have to send them pictures from all the fun we’re having and make them jealous.”

“Well, least the decorations look good,” Jackson said, climbing down from his stepladder. “Oh, and the food smells great! Although are you going to eat that demolished cookie or continue poking its eyehole?”

I stared at the cookie I had broken into quarters, then popped one of the pieces into my mouth. “Eat.”

Jackson rolled his eyes and took Rosa from Emmett, who then went to pull the last few items from the fridge, including the promised deviled eggs made with sriracha, which I immediately swiped from his hands so I could help myself to one.

“Your addiction to those eggs is a little terrifying,” Jackson said.

“You’re just worried my love of them is going to make me want to woo Emmett away from you, and then you won’t have any eggs for yourself.”

Emmett snorted. “So both of you only love me for my eggs?”

I snorted in reply. “Obviously.”

“No,” Jackson said, going over to kiss Emmett’s cheek. “I also keep you around to do the dishes.”

They pretended to bicker back and forth, so I stole another egg and went around the house to turn off all the house lights (and to turn the porch light on). The living room was cast in an orange glow from the strings of lights framing the windows and the seemingly thousands of candles—most of them battery powered—scattered around the space.

“Nice mood lighting,” I called to them.

“I figured it’d be good for telling”—Emmett did something weird with his voice, dropping it and making it waver—“spoo-ooky stories.”

“And have Jackson sleep-deprived from being unable to sleep for a week?”

Jackson came in, Rosa in his arm, a plate in the opposite hand. “I think he meant baby-appropriate spooky stories. Unless he wants to sleep on the couch.”

“Did you just call yourself a baby?”

Jackson gave me an unimpressed look, and I smiled, all earnest good boy, but it must have been lost in the dim lighting. He shook his head. “Emmett, can you bring my beer in?”

He set his plate down on the coffee table, then Rosa on the floor, before joining her, pushing the plate as far from her grasp as possible.

I stopped by the kitchen and loaded up my own plate, then joined everyone in the living room. Despite there being plenty of seats, we all were on the floor so we could play with Rosa as she teeteringly walked around. It was strange to think that a year and a half ago she’d been a wrinkly bean that hadn’t been good for much more than screaming, eating, and pooping. Now she tried to steal the food off our plates, despite not being quite up to eating most of the things. Cooked vegetables? Yes. Raw whole veggies with ranch? No.

She definitely kept us on our toes.

“So how is Logan?” Jackson asked. “I feel like we haven’t seen him in ages.”

I smiled, thinking about the last few months. After the fight about coming out to my parents, things had been good. We still hadn’t moved in together, but more and more of my stuff was at his place—and his at mine—so that I’d go days without seeing my own apartment. He still visibly struggled every time my mom called, but he hadn’t pushed me to come out again, and I hadn’t pushed to move in together.

But I was feeling a lot closer to being able to do both.

Jackson cleared his throat. “So, how’s Logan?”

Heat flashed across my cheeks all the way to my ears. I must have zoned out. “He’s good.” I took a sip of hard cider, then stared down the neck. “It’s serious.”

“We got that,” Jackson said, and I could have sworn there was pride in his voice. “And I’m glad.”

“Yeah. I want to move in together, but . . . he won’t until I come out to my parents.”

Emmett grunted, and I looked up. He and Jackson were doing some silent communicating, the married equivalent of eye-fucking. Emmett grimaced, Jackson’s lips twitched, and then they turned their eyes to me and I wondered if I should apologize for eavesdropping, although I had no idea what had been said.

“That’s a little . . .” Jackson paused, as if considering the words carefully, “manipulative. He’s trying to force you to—”

“No. No, it’s not like, ‘I’ll dump you if you don’t come out.’ He’s afraid I’m not serious about us. Like, I know he knows I am, but he feels like he’s being hidden away and cut out from part of my life. And if my parents were actually a threat—like financially or physically—I don’t think he’d consider it.”

“Still feels underhanded.” Emmett grunted.

“Yeah. But I—I said when we first met that I’d come out to my parents when I met someone who was worth it. So I think he feels that because I’m not coming out, then that means he’s not worth it.”

“Oh, Zack.” Jackson clambered across the floor—and toys—to wrap me in a hug.

It felt unnecessary, but I rested my head on his shoulder anyway while he gave me a firm squeeze.

“I understand how he feels,” Emmett said while the hug went on, “but you shouldn’t feel obligated to do it for him. Do it when you’re ready. If you do it for him, you might end up blaming him for anything that goes down.” Emmett slapped his fist into the opposite palm playfully. “Need me to let him know that?”

“Are you threatening to beat up my boyfriend?”

Jackson whispered in my ear, “That’s a fight I’d pay to see.”

Yeah, thinking about it, it would be hot. Except for the part where one of my best friends and my boyfriend would be beating the shit out of each other.

“Only an emotional bashing,” Emmett said, smirking.

I gently broke the hug and sort of pushed Jackson toward Emmett. “Go restrain your husband.”

Jackson shrugged and instead went to grab Rosa before she got to his drink. “There’s no stopping him. Sorry.”

Thankfully we moved on to other topics after that. They seemed to get that I wouldn’t cave because of Logan’s pressure, although part of me wondered: what was stopping me from telling Mom and Dad? I knew, logically, what I said was stopping me, and it was stopping me. But I’d told him that if someone meant enough to me, I’d tell my parents.

Logan meant enough. More than enough. Yet here I was, resisting at every turn. So was he right? Was I not committed and that was the real reason I didn’t want to? Or had I underestimated my desire to not change the status quo, to not rock the boat, to not face the change that seemed almost inevitable? If that was the case—and I was becoming increasingly terrified and sure that it was—then what was I willing to lose in order for things to remain the same?

A knock at the door snapped me from my fretting, and since Emmett was changing a diaper and Jackson had disappeared into the kitchen, I grabbed the candy bowl and opened the door.

In black leather chaps that hugged his thighs and framed the bulge of his crotch, a leather jacket, and with a helmet tucked jauntily against his hip, the man on the stoop was a little old to be going around begging for candy.

“Trick or treat,” Logan said, a dangerous grin curling the corners of his lips.

I held the candy bowl behind my back. “Yeah? And what kind of trick are you going to pull if I don’t give you candy?”

He stepped forward, plastering his body against my front as his arms wrapped around me. His lips brushed mine with every word and sharp inhale. “I didn’t say it was candy I was after.”

He covered my mouth in a kiss as his hands rooted through the candy bowl. It was difficult to fight him when his tongue was making delicious promises in my mouth. His hard body, a solid wall denying any escape, was hot—a sharp contrast to the cool October air that backed him.

“Close the door—you’re letting the heat out!” Jackson ordered.

“And giving all the families a show,” Emmett added.

Logan grabbed something from the bowl and secured his arm around my waist, doing a fancy dance step to spin us inside and close the door. “Happy?”

“Thank you. Hi, Logan.”

“Hi, Jackson.” Logan chuckled and kissed my nose. “Hi, Isaac.”

“Happy Halloween.” I kissed the slight scruff on his chin. “So what sweet treat did you get?”

He held up the candy, and we burst out laughing at the familiar yellow scrawled with the red saying Sugar Daddy. “Looks like I picked up the right treat.”

“You’re terrible.” I kissed his jaw again, just to feel the rough stubble against my lips. “You’re also here a lot earlier than I was expecting.”

Logan grumbled and released me so he could set his helmet on the back of the couch against the wall. “It was becoming a drama-fest.”

“Like Christmas?”

“Yes. I’m not sure what the fu—um.” He gritted his teeth and waved at Rosa. “I don’t know what they’re even fighting about. Matti and Alessa are angry with Troy, who is blaming Bryan. Of course, none of them want to talk about it. Erika keeps trying to play mediator, which I think they need, but Troy, and I guess Bryan, keep saying it’s unfair because she’s dating Alessa and will automatically side with her. Which is kind of a valid point. Jacob is trying to stay uninvolved, and anytime I try to get a clear picture of what’s going on, it breaks down into a screaming match.”

“And thus you’re here.”

“Yeah. I told them they needed to talk it out. I suggested Erika lock them in a room with a bottle of rum until they got through it.”

“I thought they’d worked it out before New Year’s.” They had all seemed fine at the party.

Logan glared at the air. “So did I.”

“Aw, my poor baby. I’m sorry.” I stepped in front of him and snagged the zipper of his jacket, then dragged it down slowly. “But now you’re here and we can have fun.”

“There are children present,” Jackson reminded me.

I cranked my neck around to glare at him. “What do you think I meant? Dirty mind!” I turned back to Logan. “Sit down, relax, and I’ll make a plate for you if you’d like.”

“Oooh, the service here’s nice.”

I opened my mouth to make a sugar-daddy joke but was saved from embarrassment by the doorbell ringing. Since I was still holding the candy bowl, I turned to the door as Logan headed for the kitchen. A set of twins dressed as an angel and demon were there.

“Trick or treat!”

“Oh my. What great costumes.” I doled out the candy—giving them extra for being creative and adorable—and waved as they left. Then I passed the bowl to Jackson, who was lounging on the couch, sipping his drink.

Jackson winked at me. I rolled my eyes and followed Logan to the kitchen, where he was loading his plate. His playful façade had dropped, and now I could see the tension around his eyes and mouth. After fetching a cider for him from the fridge, I stood close to him as he wavered between the two types of deviled eggs. I bumped his shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Trying to pick an egg,” he said, not looking up.

I leaned closer, so my words were a soft murmur in his ear. “Why not have both?”

His chuckle was low and exhausted. “Why do I feel like we’re not talking about eggs?”

Angling over, I plucked a sriracha egg from the platter and set it on his plate. “What else would we be talking about, hmm?”

I was glad that after ten months together he understood my incompetent attempt to get him to talk about his emotions. I was also glad that he wasn’t as incompetent as me.

With the plate in one hand, he took my free hand and led me to a seat. He was smiling, sort of, but tension had his shoulders pulled taut. He sat down, then set his plate on the table and pulled me onto his lap. I came along willingly and put the drink down, so I was free to wrap my arms around his neck and rest my forehead against his.

“What’s bothering you?”

“Oh, is that what that meant?”

I nodded, though it was kind of weird with our heads like they were.

He sighed and readjusted me—just picked me up and shifted me on his lap and if this hadn’t been a Very Serious Conversation, I would have been turned on by the ease of the manipulation. But this was important, so I sat there, reclined sideways against him with his arm around my back. He moved his plate to my lap and picked at the food as we spoke. “The drama is getting to me, I guess. I hate to see my family fight, you know? They’ll work it out, eventually, but for the moment, it’s stressful being around them.”

I wanted to ask how he knew they’d work it out. There was nothing keeping them all together like blood kept a family together. Like having twenty-plus years together kept a family together. Maybe this argument would become a crack that grew and grew until it shattered their friendship apart. The thought chilled me.

I knew better than to actually say that though. Instead I tried to think about conflicts within my own family. Or at least with my sister, since in all other conflicts the victory automatically went to our parents. “Well, sometimes we need to avoid our families until tempers cool down, right? Like, you can’t always force things to work out. Sometimes time needs to work its magic.”

“So we shouldn’t get together at all, then?”

“Maybe don’t invite the people who are causing the conflict?”

“That’s, like, half the group. And we can’t have Erika there without Alessa.” He groaned, and I felt useless. There didn’t seem to be anything they could do except to tell everyone involved to grow up and get over themselves. Something told me—having met his friends—that they wouldn’t take kindly to that.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, tucking myself against his neck. “I wish I could help.”

He sighed—not like he was disappointed, but rather like the tension was leaving through his lips. The arm around my waist squeezed. “You being here, having a place for me to go, is help enough.”

I kissed his neck, because it was there and how could I not? “I’m here for you always.”

“Thank you.”

It felt like a promise, like something more than all the I love yous we’d said. It was the always that did it. That was a forever word. It should have been scary, that promise. The cause of the cold feet that grooms-to-be experienced on their wedding day. But it wasn’t. It felt right. I wanted nothing less than forever with him.

No matter what the cost.

My stomach cramped at the thought, because I had a feeling I knew what the cost would be, but I tightened my arm around him and he tightened his around me, and the certainty I felt in my promise was stronger than the fear.

Oh, I thought. Is this what it means when someone’s worth changing everything for?

“I love you,” I whispered. Now wasn’t the time to announce that I was willing to rock my world and come out to my parents, but I needed him to know.

He kissed me, and then moved the plate so he could wrap both arms around me without making a mess. “I love you too.”

And in those words, I felt all the different sorts of love he had for me. Passionate and romantic, of course, but also the bond of friendship, of being able to rely on each other and support each other.

I was so fucking lucky to have found him.

That sealed the deal. The fear of facing my parents was nothing compared to the fear of not having him here in my life. The decision wasn’t about ultimatums; it was about being able to share our lives completely with each other, to always be there to give the other strength.

I clung to this with all the strength I had to give.

The next day we stumbled out of bed exhausted, hungry, and completely satisfied. We’d gone to bed later than we’d planned and had gotten distracted on the coming and the going. Still, there was nothing urgent that we needed to do—only all those boring adult things like cleaning the shower, vacuuming, and maybe dusting. It was getting hard to see through the inch of dust that coated the TV screen.

But first, there was something I needed to do. To tell him. It involved him, after all.

We brewed our coffee, tore into the package of donuts we’d bought, and settled at the table. I fiddled with my phone for a bit, glancing at the various apps I kept up with, but it couldn’t hold my attention. So much for a nice relaxing morning breakfast.

“Hey, Logan, can we talk?”

He glanced up from the book he was reading on his tablet, eyebrows quirked. “What is it?”

His gray eyes weren’t even that intense, but a flutter of nerves ran through me. I dropped my gaze to my phone, lying on the table, then changed the angle thirty degrees. Then back again. “So, I was thinking about what you said.”

A long pause followed, and then he put his hand over mine, which had still been twitching my phone around, and I looked up. He was watching me, a soft smile making him seem open and welcoming. “Oh? Which thing?”

“About coming out. To my parents. Since I’m out to everyone else.” I laughed nervously and shook my head. What was wrong with me? This was Logan. I shouldn’t be anxious. As if I’d needed the reminder, a small bit of tension bled out of my chest. This was Logan, and I loved him. “I want to tell them. I mean, I’m ready to tell them.”

His face lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. “You are?”

It was hard not to match that smile with one of my own. “I am. I’m scared as fuck, but—but you’re too important for me to pretend you aren’t the best part of every day.”

His eyes widened, not so much in surprise but in sappy joy. Warmth flooded through my chest, and I was probably blushing, but I didn’t care. I’d done that. I’d made him that happy. And, Jesus, I was doing this for me, but that was a fan-freaking-tastic bonus.

“You’re the best part of my days too,” he said, eyes still ridiculously wide.

The warmth spreading through me exploded into an intense heat that told me I was definitely blushing. I turned my hand over so I could clasp his, and leaned across the table. He met me halfway.

The kiss was surprisingly soft compared to the tight grip of our hands, but it spoke volumes. It was solid and there. If we hadn’t just finished up in the bedroom, I would have dragged us there. Instead, I sat back in my seat, our hands together, and took a sip of coffee. I was still terrified of the thought of telling my parents, and we had a ton of details to work out, but Logan was here, and that was all I needed.