Micah spent the night knowing that, early in the morning, he would be out the door and back to his own place to get ready for work. Still, he lingered a little too long watching Alistair sleep. Like a total creep.

Alistair was both a side-sleeper and a back-sleeper. That night, he was on his back, one knee invading Micah's space and the other stretched out. Under the covers, his arms folded over his stomach. His chin to his shoulder. Micah thought this to be an incredibly psychopathic way to sleep.

What the fuck am I doing? Micah thought, having wasted nearly ten minutes digesting Alistair's sleep position.

He eased out of bed one limb at a time. He'd left his clothes in the bathroom—talented, brilliant, incredible, show-stopping foresight—and so his escape was made easy.

There was a chill that morning that made him regret not bringing a proper coat. He stopped for coffee at the café he used to frequent and was embarrassed to be recognized by the barista.

"I don't see you around here anymore!" she said. "Are you still working at that restaurant?"

Oh shit, it really has been a long time, Micah thought. "No. I actually graduated and moved, so..."

"Congrats!"

Feeling too awkward to continue, Micah took his coffee and left. He shouldn't have mentioned any of that, at the very least not the moving part. It was obvious to him that he'd be visiting Alistair frequently enough for her to question what he was doing around the neighborhood so often.

Goddammit.

He hadn't checked his phone since undressing when he entered Alistair's apartment. He dug it out to occupy his thoughts on the journey home, which just resulted in seeing two new notifications.

An alert for a date on Sunday, and a new calendar invite.

He checked the new event first. It was from Kennedy, as most of his invites were, for a bridal shower as far east as Queens went. Kennedy would be picking him up after work tomorrow.

Being invited out to family events was no longer a matter of Kennedy's family versus Presley's friends. Benny was officially taken (forever) and therefore, incapable of faking it as Kennedy's fake boyfriend. Micah didn't mind assuming the role. After all, each outing gifted him with a new outfit.

Micah packed that night after work so that in the morning, he was ready to go the second the clock struck six. He left his office, bag in hand, to find Kennedy's car waiting for him across the street.

She honked twice and rolled down the passenger window as he approached. The back seat was occupied by layers of dry-cleaning, and through the window he smelled takeout. "You can put your things in the trunk," she said.

For Micah, she delivered a sandwich and for herself, a salad which Micah was made to feed her with as she drove.

"So who's this bridal shower for?"

She groaned. "My cousin. Hate his ass, but his fiancé's a sweetie."

"Not from around here then, I take it."

"Definitely not. Think... cows and chickens. He bought her a goat for her birthday last year."

He took a bite of his sandwich, set it down, and stabbed a bundle of spinach and arugula on a fork for Kennedy. He held it out to her, cupping a hand underneath so as not to make a mess. "So you say he sucks but what I'm hearing is that he bought a goat for her birthday."

"I'm not saying he's bad for her. I just don't like him, is all." She leaned over to chomp on the fork. "Thank you." She honked aggressively at an offending driver. Out the window, she yelled, "EAT MY ASS AND LEARN HOW TO DRIVE!"

She drives like Presley, Micah thought, stomach turning whenever she merged through a barely-passable gap between cars. He tried to focus on eating and the goat in the room.

"Is this the cousin that drew all over your Barbie dolls as a kid?"

"Yes! You know those Barbies would be worth hundreds now if he hadn't ruined them."

"Wait, seriously? I'm officially pissed on your behalf."

"Thank you. Leaf me." He extended a forkful of salad to her.

On the brink of Queens, Elmont sat waiting for them—as well as a valet to take the car. Micah was used to posh hotels where Kennedy was involved. Despite having relatives and family friends all over, staying at someone's house gave them an invite into her personal life. It would just mean excessive acting on both their parts to stay appropriate in conservative circles that believed Kennedy to be straight and narrow as a ruler.

Kennedy had warned him, though, that others were staying at the same hotel, so Micah took her hand as they entered and lingered at the front desk, waiting for their room key. Micah refrained from staring at the crystal chandelier and instead fiddled away on his phone.

"Thank you so much," Kennedy said to the receptionist before walking off, trailing Micah behind her. He put his phone away as she said, "I'm thinking about getting a massage. Would you want one? We could have them done in the room."

As if Micah would decline. "Do I ever."

Kennedy made the arrangements as they were in the elevator. Their bags were already in the room, dry-cleaning hanging in the closet, and snacks in a basket on the king-size bed.

Micah immediately went for the chocolates. "Man, have I ever told you traveling with you is the greatest pleasure known to man?"

Kennedy cleared her throat and professed in a British accent: "Wow, coming from you, a man who's known the pleasures of hundreds, and to say so before the massage? I'm flattered."

He laughed, peeling the wrapper and popping the chocolate into his mouth.

Micah slept amazingly that night after his muscles were kneaded into submission like putty. On the opposite side of the bed, Kennedy slept with an eye mask and earplugs, dead to the world until her alarm jarred them both awake at the asscrack of dawn. She had a hair and nail appointment to attend to, which gave Micah an extra few hours of rest.

He woke again to a notification on his phone. When he checked it, he found a new calendar invite. He opened it.

Dinner on Tuesday titled, "Dinner date 😜".

With Benny and James.

"Are you fucking kidding me," Micah groaned, burying his face in the pillow. He opened his contacts and dialed Benny's number. He was barely turned over when Benny answered.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

"Take that off my calendar."

Benny grumbled incoherently before saying, "But what if it's purely platonic? I still want to hang out with you, you know."

"But what if it isn't."

"Why, do you have plans to make it not platonic?"

Micah resisted the urge to ask if James was there, because asking made him sound defensive, like it wasn't at all platonic for him. "It's platonic for me. Is it platonic for you?"

"Maybe."

"Man, don't do this. We can't make things weird between us."

"I don't think it's weird. I think it's natural." When Micah didn't respond, there was hesitation over the line. Regret clung close to his chest as he sat up in bed, sighing. "I'm ruining this, aren't I?"

Micah ran a hand over his forehead. He wished Kennedy were in the room so he could mute the call and ask her opinion. "I get that you're excited to... explore and stuff. You haven't slept with many men."

"You don't need to be condescending."

"I'm not being condescending, I'm just saying you're putting the pedal to the metal when you should be taking a step back." On second thought, that sounded horrible. "And I don't mean with your relationship with James. Definitely not that. I just mean sex in general. I don't—I don't know what the fuck I'm saying. Sorry."

Benny's voice was heart-wrenching for a conversation happening at ten in the morning. "Is it so bad that I want to do this with the people I care about most?"

Micah groaned, hand over his eyes. "Benny..."

"And i-it hurts that you're assuming what my sex life was like with Hunter. It wasn't bad," Benny said.

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it. I've explored plenty."

Jesus Christ, Micah thought. "I don't want to talk about this. I'm in Elmont with Kennedy right now."

"Oh. I was wondering what that time block was on your calendar today." Micah gave a noncommittal, incoherent reply. "I see what you mean though. I just—I feel so... inadequate."

"You're not inadequate."

"Hunter hated when I topped."

Micah thought he was going to throw up. He threw the blankets aside and got out of bed. "I'm sure you're a perfectly fine top. James seems to like it."

"Yeah, but he hasn't been with many guys, either."

"I don't think we should be talking about this. This is between you and James."

"But you're, like, the expert! The sexpert, if you will."

Micah choked a little, fetching his toothbrush. "Stop it."

"We could both use your expertise. Just think of it like a wedding present."

"I already gave you your wedding present. Unless you forgot the four gifts I gave you."

Benny choked on a gasp and coughed over the line. Micah snickered despite himself. "F-Fine. I'll stop pestering. But we still want to hang out with you."

"Just—change the stupid event name. It creeps me out."

"Okay. Have fun with the horses!"

Micah didn't think to question the comment until they hung up. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, bedhead, scowl, and all. "Horses?" he mused.

Within the hour, Kennedy arrived, dolled up and ready for the event, and sent Micah into the bathroom to get dressed. They were in the car and headed to the venue before noon, at which point Micah finally asked, "So where are we going?"

"To the bridal shower, duh?"

"No, but where is the bridal shower?"

It was at the Belmont Park horse races.

The moment he saw the sign, he turned to Kennedy and said, "You've got to be shitting me."

"What? Aren't you happy to be amongst your people?" she tease.

Micah punched her in the arm in retaliation.

Micah should have figured as much after Benny's comment, coupled with the outfits Kennedy had selected. He was dressed modestly in pale, pinstriped slacks and a matching jacket over a cable-knit sweater. Brown oxfords, a leather watch strap, and a belt. It was all soft and unlike Kennedy's usual style.

For her, she wore a tweed ensemble and a classy hat. Her boots were impressive and chunky so as to withstand the grass.

She clapped one gloved hand at him and said, "Come on, dear."

"You were gonna go solo, weren't you," he accused. "You just thought to bring me because of the horses."

She pinched his cheek. "You know me. So. Well!"

He swatted her hand away and noted when her eyes caught on someone and waved, shouting, "Ah! You made it!"

Before the couple could approach, Micah ended their teasing by kissing her on the temple and saying, "You're dead to me." She patted him on cheek, fixed his hair, and dragged him off to be social.

Micah had attended the Saratoga races once before, which had involved an impressive prelude of studying, mansplaining, and lessons on Kennedy's behalf. Since then, the closer and more accessible Belmont had underwent an impressive remodel that Micah couldn't even fathom as a newcomer. Most of Kennedy's chatter involved commentary on all the changes.

An event room above the main floor was reserved for the shower where Kennedy's gift for the engaged couple was taken away by a staff member. Micah left his hand on Kennedy's waist as she chatted with people Micah only vaguely recognized.

They paid him no mind. After all, he was dressed to impress as if he'd picked the outfit out himself. In other words: he blended in.

Kennedy had done similarly when he last attended Saratoga. She didn't want people talking to him about the horse races and subsequently to question his knowledge on horse racing.

Kennedy gave him a brief out. "Could you get us some drinks, please?" she asked, sweetly.

"Of course," he said, and before leaving, squeezed her by the hip. She looked up at him expectantly, a challenging glint in her eye that told him if he didn't kiss her now, she'd call him a chicken.

He pecked her on the lips so as not to smudge her makeup. She beamed, and he listened to their company compliment her on her choice of boyfriend as he walked off.

At the bar, he ordered Hendrick's for himself and vodka for his fake girlfriend. They had a perfect view of the track outside, the stands, and people milling about in their parasols and hats. It was a sunny, cloudless autumn day, and the balcony doors were kept propped open.

"That suit is gorgeous. Ralph Lauren—I think I saw it in the... spring collection?"

Micah glanced over his shoulder. A man stood behind him, roughly Alistair's age. His hair was black, shaggy, and Micah saw him just as the man's dark eyes were lifting up from Micah's ass.

It took a second for Micah to compose himself after turning to face the bar, neutral. He was supposed to be the perfect boyfriend, which meant not flirting with Kennedy's potential relatives or their potential friends.

He was meant to be straight.

"I wouldn't know," he said. Best way to feign heterosexuality as a man was to not know designer collections.

The man reached over and straightened Micah's lapel, flashing the medallion on Micah's breast pocket. "I don't believe that for a second. So how do you know the happy couple?"

"The husband-to-be's cousin is my girlfriend."

"Is she really?"

"Do I know you? I haven't seen you at any other family event."

The man smiled, at which point another bartender arrived to take his order. "Rum and coke, please." And then to Micah, he said, "I'm not part of either family. The husband-to-be's best friend."

It seemed right to introduce himself. He put out his hand. "Micah Sayoko."

"I know," he said, shaking Micah's hand. "Conor Walsch."

Micah squinted at him. "'You know'?"

"Well," he corrected with a slight grin, glancing away. Micah's bartender delivered his drinks. "My girlfriend knows you. Only other Sayoko I know."

He gestured to someone, saying, "Look who I found."

Aside from Erika, there weren't any Sayokos Micah knew that would be on the East Coast, let alone attending a bridal shower. A familiar face appeared at Conor's side, holding his arm.

"I was wondering where you went," she said, and glanced at Micah with a simple, "Hi," before recognizing him.

They stared at each other.

The rush that went to Micah's head made him nearly faint. He hadn't seen his half-sister since he left everything behind for New York. "Ramona?"

"Micah!" she cried, shrieking again and lunging into his arms.

Nearby partygoers glanced at all her fanfare. Micah was too stunned to do more than hold an arm around her waist and try to breathe. She was suffocating his airways.

"Oh my God! What are you doing here?" she said.

"I, um—" Oh fuck, he thought, because for as long as he'd known Ramona, she knew he was gay.

"You didn't know?" Conor said as she held Micah at arm's length. "He's dating one of the cousins."

"Seriously?" she said, staring at first at Conor and then Micah. Hurt pinched her brow. "And you never said anything? I know we don't talk a lot, but—I mean, is it new?"

Micah was prepared to eject himself into space, all he needed to say was, "Five—Four—Three—Two—"

"Oh! You beat me to the best man!" It was Kennedy, heels clicking toward them. She reached behind Micah to fetch their drinks, delivered the gin to Micah's hand, and dashed the condensation off on her skirt. She shook Conor's hand. "Hi, Kennedy. I've been hearing a lot about you."

"No doubt," he laughed. "Your boyfriend's famous."

"My boyfriend?" she said, laughing. She hooked onto Micah's arm as Micah raised his glass up, rubbing his thumbnail between his brows. The gesture was enough to put her on edge, but for all the wrong reasons. "Oh. Could you excuse us for a second—"

Oh my God, she thinks I've slept with the best man of the wedding, Micah thought. He stopped her with a sigh. "It's fine. Kennedy, this is my... sister. Ramona. And her boyfriend, Conor."

Conor was beaming, one hand to the bar and the other arm around Ramona's shoulders. Ramona looked up from where she'd been staring at Kennedy's arm on Micah's.

Ramona stared up at Micah like he'd just shot someone point-blank. "And... Kennedy is..."

"Oh... my," Kennedy said when what Micah knew she wanted to say was, "-fuck." Instead, she plastered on a smile and asked, discretely, "You never told me your sister was in town."

"I didn't know," he said.

"We don't talk often," Ramona said, voice painfully quiet to avoid shaking. "You have a girlfriend? I—I thought—"

It was so easy to upset her, and each time it made Micah want to kick himself. But there were too many factors at play.

He didn't like the look of intrigue on Conor's face, or the fact that he was best friends with a cousin Kennedy despised. If he knew anything other than their lie, it could blow up Kennedy's reputation.

But if he went with the lie, he'd hurt Ramona even more.

I'm closer with Kennedy anyway, he reasoned, despite feeling completely choked out. He squeezed Kennedy's arm tighter. "We met in college and have been dating for a couple years."

Kennedy was staring at him. He glanced at her, and sealed their fate. She smiled like a lovestruck idiot. "A couple? Our four year anniversary was last month."

"And why would I mention that when you love reminding other people?" he teased. "August 20th, Kennedy's birthday."

She turned to Ramona and said, "We met at my birthday party. We were at a club—not even old enough to drink—and I tried to get him to buy me a drink. He looked like he was in his twenties, you know."

"O-Oh," Ramona said.

"I know, not very flattering." And then, in a secret aside, said, "I tell my grandparents we met at a five-star restaurant."

"I hear you're interning at Tom Ford," Conor said, and at Kennedy's shock, he explained, "Kennedy McClure, right? Cassian Presley's goddaughter?"

"Yes, that's me."

This is horrible, Micah thought, because most of Kennedy's relatives didn't pay attention that much. She wouldn't be inheriting the family company, after all.

Presley wasn't exactly on the fringes of Kennedy's family, but to the best man of a McClure, Presley's name shouldn't have meant a thing or even be recognized.

"That's super cool. How are you liking it?" Micah hated the way Conor asked questions, like he already knew the answer.

"I'm still pretty early on," she admitted. She tipped her head, curious and smiling. "You've been doing your research."

"I'm the best man. Of course I do my research."

"Of course you do."

Conor turned to Ramona with a gentle smile. "I'm surprised your brother didn't show up in my research. You must have a private Instagram, Kennedy."

Kennedy put her hand on her hip. "Yeah, and it's called a Finsta. It's completely unserious. I post Micah on there, so you wouldn't have seen him."

"Unflattering pictures," Micah interjected.

"Aw, but I think they're cute."

Someone started clinking a glass. It was mid-cocktail hour and a speech was underway before the races began. He watched Conor take the rum and coke from Ramona, take a sip, and say to them, "That's us."

"'Us'?" Micah repeated.

"Maid of honor," Ramona whispered. She couldn't meet his eyes as Conor stepped away, guiding her with a hand to her back.

The moment they were gone, Kennedy swore under her breath. "What a piece of work."

"He was flirting with me," Micah said, just loud enough for her to hear. She stared at him. "Just before Ramona showed up. He didn't believe me when I said I was dating you."

"He knows you're gay?"

"Come on. He researched you, he's definitely researched Ramona's entire ancestry," he said, rolling his eyes. "If she didn't tell him herself. Which she probably did. Christ."

"Oh. This is bad, bad," Kennedy said. "I can hear the tabloids now. 'Kennedy McClure's boyfriend comes out as gay, she turns lesbian in her despair,' kill me now."

"Is the 'kill me now' part of the title?"

"It certainly can be."

"Here's an idea," Micah said as they both distracted themselves from Conor's brief, pompous speech, "If your world finds out about my exploits, we can appeal to their religious tendencies. Say that you saved me from the devil with the power of your pussy."

Kennedy nearly choked on her drink. She sputtered, clapped a hand over her mouth, and turned red in the face. Micah hid his face in her hair, snickering to himself as she whispered, "Oh my God, you're a fucking genius."