The Guy With the Suitcase (Once Upon a Guy #1) (26 page)

The maître d’ arrived at the table followed by Rafe, who was wearing a
 
metallic pink shirt and a faded gray suit. He smiled at Pierce, who was sat at the table looking at his phone. When he sensed Rafe bending down and placing his head on Pierce’s shoulder, Pierce put his cell down and jerked his head to kiss his boyfriend.
 

“Hi, baby,” Rafe said and took a seat across Pierce, only separated by a tea light in a red jar. “How are you?”

Pierce took in the sight of his partner and sucked in a deep breath; he was truly breathtaking. He’d let his hair grow slightly, although he still had no traces of a beard, and any little he did have, he shaved daily. He took his jacket off and his shirt tightened under the pressure of his protruding muscles. In all honesty, Pierce admired Rafe. Not only was he hard-working and committed, a great lover and boyfriend, but also looked after his health and body with immense results. And Pierce couldn’t be prouder for how he’d turned out to be.

“I’m good,” Pierce replied. “I was on the phone with Tracy earlier today, and she told me that the fundraising is going so well, she thinks we will be able to open the shelter earlier than we thought,” Pierce went on and let his lips form the smile they’d been holding in.

Rafe tapped his hand on the table several times and bounced on his chair. “That’s so exciting. And any news from Dolores?”

Pierce let himself be affected by the child-like glee that Rafe exhumed. “I did, indeed. She called me in the afternoon like she said she would. Apparently everyone loved the exhibition in Paris, and a few more art and photography curators have contacted her about doing more in London, Milan, Zurich, and surprisingly so, Moscow. She said she’ll get the dates and let me know,” he explained.

“Did you tell her you can’t do August?” Rafe nodded.

Pierce gasped. “What’s in August?”
 

Rafe kicked him under the table. “Oh, yeah, vacation time with my boyfriend in Maldives celebrating his 21st, how could I forget?”

Rafe frowned. “You better have not. It’s the only time I managed to get off work, mister.”

Pierce laughed. The waiter arrived at their table and Pierce ordered non-alcoholic beer for both of them. When he left, he turned his full attention back to Rafe. “How was your work today, sweetie?”

“It was good. Got Marissa in the back today, started training her in all the office stuff. That girl’s math is on fire. Even I struggled with some of the finance in my training. She swung it,” he admitted.

“That’s great.” Pierce smiled and saw the waiter return with their drinks. “I knew she could do it. From the first day you hired her in The Tangerine as a waitress, she was a natural. Actually, considering her friend has managed to become a head manager of his own restaurant in the matter of a year, I wouldn’t be shocked if she stole your job in a few months,” he chuckled.

Rafe sat back and shook his finger in front of Pierce. “Cariño, if she
does
get better than me, I’ll just fire her and send her elsewhere. Puh-lease!”

They both laughed.
 

“Are you ready to order?”

Life was good. For the both of them. While Pierce had found his passion for snapping photos of the New Yorkers no one ever sees or reads about, and
 
made it into a profitable, charitable business, Rafe had found his place serving people and running an actual, brick-and-mortar, business. He couldn’t complain. They made quite the couple. Rafe only hiring homeless people in his own restaurant, Pierce exhibiting his photographs across the world and helping to raise funds for a homeless center with his Page ‘Dreamless in New York’, they made a good team.

Neither one of them would have made it where they were today if it hadn’t been for the other. They’d been through each other’s lowest, helped each other when they were ready to give up, and now they were being present for their transformation into thriving adults with a bright future ahead of them. Pierce didn’t care much about anything other than Rafe. He would give everything else up in a heartbeat, but Rafe was the only future he couldn’t imagine himself without.

Pierce took Rafe’s hand. The waiter had just left with their order, Rafe following him before bringing his eyes back on Pierce.
 

“I love you, you know that?” Pierce told him, staring into his eyes.

“Me too,” Rafe responded without missing a beat.

The spurting sound of firework candles cut through the restaurant as the waiter approached the table with a heart-shaped cake, singing “Happy Birthday”, harmonized by Rafe’s voice.

Pierce smiled and let them finish the song. Most of the other patrons had turned to look at the flashy cake and the singing gays. The waiter put the cake down on the table, in front of Pierce, and he blew out the candle. He didn’t make a wish. He was 22, but he had everything he could ever want. He had Rafe.

The diners closest to them clapped for the birthday boy. “I know you like the desert first, so I thought I’d surprise you by having it before our meal,” Rafe explained.

Pierce felt a pull in his heart. He didn’t mind it. It was what having your heart stolen felt like. The waiter handed him a knife to cut the cake. The thing was, just like Rafe knew Pierce, he also knew Rafe very well. Just like he knew Rafe loved to paint in his spare time and to let steam off, he knew Rafe was going to surprise him with a cake. He took the candle out from the edge of the cake and cut a piece around the hole. He put the piece on Rafe’s plate, then cut another one for himself. The waiter didn’t leave. He stood watching.

Rafe started eating. Pierce didn’t. He watched as Rafe chewed and went down for another bite. Their waiter was still watching. Pierce saw a few more of the waiters doing the same. Those fuckers were going to ruin everything.

Rafe’s spoon met resistance and he persisted. Traces of silver reflected the candle light.
 

“What is this?” Rafe asked as he cleared around the silver, to reveal a ring with a sapphire attached in the middle.

Pierce didn’t answer. He pushed his chair back and went down on his left knee. Or should it have been his right knee? He didn’t know if there was importance or significance in it. It was too late to change it. He’d only look foolish. He took the ring out of Rafe’s hands and held it in front of him, cake and all. Rafe stared at Pierce, his mouth agape and his hands frozen on top of the chocolate cake.

“Rafe, baby, you are my world,” Pierce begun. Damn, he hadn’t even rehearsed it.

Rafe grabbed Pierce’s hand. “What are you doing?” he looked around. Pierce didn’t. He could tell everyone was watching. As if he needed more audience to stress him.

“From the moment I punched you, that October day, you changed my life.” People laughed. The waiter laughed. Rafe laughed. “You gave it purpose and meaning. I—I was lost before you. Truly lost. But meeting you, becoming your friend, your lover, I learned more about the world than I could have without you. I learned so much about myself. You taught me how to be happy. And even though you might still call me a brute sometimes, I am happy. Only next to you did I even learn the meaning of the word. And next to you I found out what it is to love and be loved. I—know we’ll be together for the rest of our lives and that we don’t need a ring or a paper to make this any more real than it already is, but somehow this feels right,” Pierce swallowed.

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Oh, say the truth, you just want everyone to know I’m taken.” It seemed like the whole restaurant laughed.

Pierce did. “That too, but I want the world to know I’m yours also. So, will you agree to marry me, you thieving
cabron
?”

Rafe rubbed Pierce’s cheek with his thumb, his eyes fixed on his. “It’s
cabrón
, baby, not cabron. And of course I will marry, you fool.”
 

Everything else blurred. The applause, the cheers, the whistles. That moment, it was just the two of them. Like it had always been.

Like it would always be. The brute and the thief and a life happy together.

The End

I couldn’t have written this book without some of the amazing people in my life.

First, and foremost, I would like to thank my Alphas, who have helped shaped the story before it was even put on paper. Natalie, Marco, MC, Jo and Alina; you have been great and instrumental in the creation of this book.

Secondly, I’d like to thank my editor, Kameron, for not allowing me to embarrass myself with my stray thoughts and poor punctuation skills.

Thirdly, I’d like to thank Rosa and Meredith for putting a name and a personality on Vance and making him who he is.

My deepest gratitude and love to Christina, who has always been there for me, listening to my constant moaning and writer problems and offering me her critical eye on anything from cover to story. Love you to bits.

I would like to thank Alex, for being himself and for helping me be mine. Thank you for your support in what I do. A million days, baby.
 

Last, but not least, I would like to thank you, the readers. Thank you for giving me your time by reading Pierce’s and Rafe’s story. Without you, I wouldn’t be doing what I love. Telling the stories that are gnawing inside me.

Chris Ethan is a book whore. He enjoys selling his feelings for money and other pleasures and is blatantly unashamed to do so for as long as he breathes. Chris Ethan is also a persona for Rhys Christopher Ethan, author of fantasy and sci-fi. He uses Chris Ethan to share stories of adult queer romances with those who need it. Before you delve into his books however, be warned. He likes putting his characters through shitstorms and hates anything conventional. But then there's that darned happy-ever-after. Also, he likes swearing. Deal with it!

Visit
rcethan.com
to follow the author’s work and keep up with his news.