Page 71 of The Boss

I followed him inside, shaking off the cold as the door swung shut behind us. The scent of espresso and melted chocolate enveloped us like a warm hug. Golden light pooled over wooden tables, and a string of twinkling fairy lights framed the fogged-up windows. The soft hum of conversation and the clink of ceramic cups filled the air, making it feel like we’d just stepped into some little snow globe world where time moved slower.

We slid into a booth near the window, shedding our snow-dusted coats. A little chalkboard on the table readTry ourspecial: Peppermint Mocha!in loopy handwriting. We ordered our drinks, settling into the cozy warmth as streetlights outside reflected off slushy pavement.

“So, how are you liking Providence?” I asked, pulling off my scarf and tossing it onto the seat beside me.

Tyler leaned back, stretching his arms along the booth. “Not bad. My mom’s new place is nice—not as big as our old house in Stamford, but still. And the city’s got a good vibe. Feels historic but, like, not archaic, you know?”

I nodded, looking around the place. “Yeah, it grows on you.”

Tyler’s mouth quirked. “Like a fungus.”

“You should put that on a postcard.”

He grinned, then drummed his fingers against the table. “Actually, my brother Matt’s the one really getting a kick out of this place. Dragged me to see Lovecraft’s house the other day.”

I blinked. “Who?”

“Some old-timey horror writer Matt’s obsessed with.”

“I’m more of a Stephen King type of guy.”

He chuckled. “Good thing Matt isn’t here to hear that. He’s at the cemetery right now visiting the guy’s grave. Tried to get me to go with him, but I figured I’d rather hang out with someone who doesn’t spend his holidays lurking in graveyards.”

The waitress brought us two steaming cups of coffee, smiled, and disappeared. My lips curved. “Glad to know I rank above dead horror writers.”

Tyler smirked, lifting his cup in a mock toast. “Barely.”

The warmth of the café, the low murmur of conversation around us, the ease of being here with him—it all settled into something comfortable, familiar. Maybe I didn’t know anything about old horror writers, but I knewthis. And it felt good. “So, what’s new? Tell me everything.”

Tyler launched into an update—his last semester at Williams, his wrestling season going strong, his relationship with Blake.He couldn’t keep from smiling when he said, “We’ve already started making plans for after graduation.”

There was a quiet certainty in the way he said it, like it was just a fact, a natural step forward. I was happy for them—genuinely—but a whisper of jealousy twisted through me, quiet and sharp.

Before I could dwell on it, Tyler’s grin widened. “Oh, and get this—my dad proposed to his boyfriend.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Your childhood friend?”

“The same.”

“Holy shit. No way.”

“Yep. Full-on romantic gesture and everything. Got down on one knee, made a speech, probably made Danny cry. They’re getting married in April.” He shook his head, but his smile was warm, a little awed. “Nuts, right?”

“Not really. From what you’ve told me, your dad seems crazy in love with him.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just wild to think about. But, on the other hand…” He trailed off, glancing down at his coffee before looking up again. “If Blake asked me, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

Something in his voice made my chest tighten—not with bitterness, not even jealousy, exactly, but… something else. Longing, maybe. Tyler was a year younger than me, yet he had found his soulmate already, the love of his life. And here I was, scarcely a week away from standing beside a man I’d foolishly thought I could have, watching him say ‘forever’ to someone else.

I forced a grin. “I bet you two are next.”

Tyler smiled, almost shy. For a moment, he looked like the same guy I’d met in Gettysburg, back when he was still figuring himself out. But he was different now, more confident, more open, happy. He nudged my foot under the table, pulling me outof my reverie. “Okay, your turn. What’s new in Chris Landry’s tragic love life?”

I groaned, leaning back against the worn leather of my seat. “Where do I even start?”

“Start with the day you ripped your pants and flashed your ass at your boss. I need all the details.”

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head, and then—because if there was anyone I could tell, it was Tyler—I told him. Everything. The whole messy, convoluted saga of me and Isaac Steele. The slow build-up. The shift from friendship to something more. The stolen moments, the dizzying highs, the inevitable heartbreak. And now, the absolute mindfuck of standing next to him as his best man.

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