When Dres arrives for Jack's wedding, he's not in a limo but he did get a car service to drive us. I got fitted for a suit, a gift from my mom for Christmas, and am finishing up getting ready when Dres comes into my room. He shuts the door quietly behind him.

     "You're early," I say as I glance at my phone screen for the time. I don't know what I'm feeling. Panic, dread. I'm imagining all the ways Dres will blow up on me for last night.

     He nods, walks over and finishes buttoning my shirt for me. His silence is daunting.

     "Are you mad?" I ask quietly.

     The hands at my neck that are fiddling with the last button move to cup my face. "No," he says just as low. The way he's looking at me agrees with the statement. He's being honest.

     Still, I press the matter. "I know you didn't want me to—."

     "It's okay."

     I'm more confused than ever. Dres had been pretty clear about wanting to use condoms and then, just like that, he'd changed his mind. I didn't care, but if he cared that much to warn me to use them with him and other people, why had he been okay with not using them last night? The entire night had left me uneasy and confused. Dres had clearly wanted me last night, in a way I was unused to and flattered by, but there was something so raw and desperate in it, like he was fumbling for something he'd already lost.

     "Can you?" I ask as I hold up my tie. Dres is happy to oblige, slipping the tie around my neck, fingers lingering against my skin as he slides down the length of the two sides and crosses them. He moves slowly, methodically. When he finishes, he stares at me.

     "What?" I ask when it doesn't look like he'll stop.

     His expression is open, soft, and he moves his hand so it's resting on my shoulder, and he can squeeze the section that just meets my neck. "Nothing."

     I eye him suspiciously. "Why does it feel like you only invited me to this thing to get me into a suit."

     Dres leans down so he can whisper into my ear, "Actually. It's to get you out of one."

     I make a surprised sound. "Alright, let's go. The sooner we get there the sooner we can leave."

     We head downstairs and have to stand through a slew of photos my mom insists on taking. I make a comment about how she just lost prom privileges before we leave.

     We're in the car on our way to the venue, some fancy hotel in the city. I'm still stewing over last night. Dres is quiet, too. The fact he's not commenting on my silence tells me he's likely thinking about last night, as well.

     "Hey," I say suddenly. He turns to look at me. The lights from Times Square flash across his face, lighting up his irises. "Did something happen last night?"

     Dres makes this face, a squished expression that tells me something did happen last night. I raise a brow slowly. He says, "Yes." And that's it. I suspect I'm not going to get anything more than that. "There was — Jack and I were talking. He." Dres pauses, frowns slightly. "He said some things. Not bad things, necessarily. Things about our tour and Weston and you."

     "Me?" I respond because I can't say Weston. I physically can't say Weston to Dres. Like ever bring him up, I think, as a person. As the shop he owns and I work at? No problem. But as the man he loved and lost? Nope.

     "There's something you should know," Dres says. My throat is dry so I can't say anything, just nod my head to keep him going. "I've been seeing someone."

     I'm wondering if it's at all possible to open the door and hop out into oncoming traffic before Dres has a chance to react and pull me in. My eyes are dry now, too. I can't blink. I just stare into the darkness of the cab. "Seeing someone?" I squeak. 

     I'm trying to figure out when the fuck Dres had the time to see other people while he was seeing me. I thought I monopolized most of his time, honestly. And it makes sense now why he was so pro-condoms. Because he didn't want to expose me to whoever else he was—

     "Yeah, I uhm, she's a psychiatrist. She works, uhm, actually out of the hospital that your moms at. Which is actually how your mom and I—."

     My brain nearly crumbles at his words. I have to lean forward and heave a deep breath to stave off the hurt and anxiety I'd created in myself moments before. Jesus, I escalated that all wrong.

     Dres puts his hand on my shoulder, so I look over at him. "I know I should've told you sooner. But, uh, therapy isn't really — it's not something I'm that comfortable with and I asked your mom not to mention it before I could tell you."

     I turn to him, placing my hand on top of his on my shoulder. "No, it's okay, it's fine. You, you know, have a right to your privacy. I don't want you to think it was wrong to keep this from me. It wasn't."

     "I just want you to know that I've been working on things for a long time with her now. That was why I was slow to start things with you. I needed to make sure I was ready and I am. But. Last night with Jack. It just bought up things.

     And you. You ground me. So that's why I called you. And I'm sorry, I'm sorry that things got out of hand. And that we, that I."

     "I thought you weren't mad about that?"

     "I'm not, but I feel like shit, Cas. I put you in a position I didn't want to put you in."

     "Dres, you didn't. I would've done that, irregardless. I wanted that just as much as you did, okay? So please don't feel bad about it. Because it was good for me, okay? It was what I wanted." I reach up so I'm holding his face. And I'm thinking that I could say something that could fix all of this, right. I could say something that could be like a bandaid on this whole conversation, the cure-all. I won't say that to him, though. Not now. It's not the way I want him to know how I feel.

     Instead, I lean forward and I kiss him, sort of desperately, because I want him to feel what I'm feeling. "Listen," I say. "I don't want you to regret last night. Because I don't regret it. We don't have to do it that way ever again, but I'm glad we did, okay? And you can call me at any time, no matter what the situation is, I'll be there."

     Dres kisses me back, presses his chin up against mine and opens his mouth to me. The sweetest of kisses, that tells me my words weren't a bandaid, that they maybe healed whatever was going on between us altogether.

     Dres makes good on getting me out of my suit that night.

     Things stay good between Dres and I. The winter months are tough in Aurora. It's not very snowy, but its the kind of cold you feel deep in your bones. The will to do anything dissipates with the sun, which makes an appearance for a few hours of the day. You don't really want to leave your house with how cold it is. Which is fine. I spend most of my time between Private Weston's and Dres's place, anyway.

     April rolls around and the chill finally breaks. Dres spent most of the winter very antsy. His morning runs were few and far between, so he drags us out on a hike the first weekend it pitches over fifty degrees. Fifty degrees is still cold in my books. But the sun's warm and it smells like the beginning of new life. We get to the top of the hike, Dres stands there and lifts his head to the sun, lets it light up his face and its all worth it. The cold, damp feeling in my boots and my bones. Its worth it to see him that at peace. I sneak a photo before he opens his eyes, but don't tell him. Sneaking photos of Dres was how I entertained myself most of winter.

     We're making our way back down on the hike when Dres says, "I have to hire someone at Weston's."

     "How come?" I ask, tone curious. "Halston doesn't leave till the end of the summer."

     With the beginning of April, college acceptances started rolling in. Halston applied early admissions to UCSF and got close to a full ride for Bioengineering. Grace is still waiting to hear back from ASU, but I'm nearly positive she'll be recruited for Cheerleading. I hadn't really thought about it but I guess if Grace gets into ASU, both my friends will be over on the West Coast.

     I got into USC and Northwestern with varying swim scholarships. I saw those coming so it's not a surprise. No, the surprise was when USC offered my mom a Neonatology fellowship opportunity. When the letter came in, I'd said to her, affronted, "I hadn't realized you'd applied for this?"

    She said, "I hadn't."

     So that was a weird coup the school was playing. I thought back to what I'd told one of the teammates. About how I didn't want to leave my mom behind. Were they that pressed for a swimmer they were willing to relocate my mom out there, too?

     Not that any of it mattered. I'd gotten a full ride to our local State School and that was what I was accepting.

     Dres says, "No, not to replace her. I think I need another baker."

     "Really?" I'm more than surprised. I cannot imagine Dres sharing his kitchen with literally anyone.

     He grimaces. "I'm not enthused about it. But, demands going up and even with early prep weekends are getting wiped out. So it's either that or work all weekend."

     "I will personally put out hiring ads for you," I say and he laughs. "What's your gross revenue now?" Dres makes a face. I stare, aghast. "You don't know?"

     "Dolores handles that."

     "Dres," I say with a shake of my head. "You know that couple that came in and asked you to cater their gender reveal? Did you at least follow up with that?"

     "I passed that along to Dolores, too." He shrugs. "Don't make that face at me. I do the baking, that's my contribution."

     I'm laughing as I say, "It's your place!"

     It takes Dres a month of interviews and a litany of different bakers, before he finally settles on this old guy named Charles. Of all the candidates this is the person Dres resonates with the most. I'm judging him, high key because Charles is old enough to be both mine and Dres's dad. He's got a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, and this big nose, which he says is how he knows when something's done baking because he can smell it. Sounds like bull.

     But he's quiet, works in the exact type of peace Dres does, and I know that that's why Dres picked him. He doesn't get in his way, figured out fairly quickly that Dres isn't a talker (at least with him) (Dres is clearly a talker with me), and follows Dres's instructions to a T. He replicates the recipes perfectly, doesn't even add his own little twist on them.

     So I'm pretty sure that these are all the reasons Dres hired him. They're good reasons. Managerial. By mid-May, I learn that there's actually an ulterior motive to Dres's hiring decision. Dres is a lot more secretive than I give him credit for.

     I'm working one night, clearing the counters when I catch Dolores and Charles standing in the hallway. Dolores is leaning into Charles as she laughs and Charles is talking a mile a minute. I almost knock over the bucket of bleach at my feet I'm taken by that much surprise. I've never seen Dolores flirt with anyone and Charles is usually so quiet. This is astounding. I can't look away but I need to because its so freaking cringe-y.

      It isn't until we're fully locked up and Charles has left that I corner Dres. He's in the employee room putting on his jacket. I walk in saying, "Did you hire Charles to set him up with Dolores?'

     He glances over at me and smiles. "Took you long enough."

     I gape at him. "Why wouldn't you tell me that?"

     "You're a blabber mouth," he responds.

     "I most definitely am but still. I'm your blabbermouth. You're supposed to tell me these things."

     Dres tosses his keys in his hand. "I'm taking you home, right? You didn't drive here today."

      "If by home, you mean your home, yes, you are."

      Dres gives me a look. "It's a Thursday night."

     "And I'm not in school anymore."

     "You haven't graduated yet."

     "Yes, but I also don't physically have to be in school anymore. So basically everyday is a Dres and Cas day now. So take me to bed." I throw my arms around his neck, hanging onto him.

      He says, "I'm not carrying you."

     "Why, is someone losing muscle? All those long winter days we spent in bed did you in, huh?" Dres snakes an arm around my back and lifts me. I wrap my legs around his leg, tightening my grip. "Never doubt what a little teasing can get you."

     "I will drop you," Dres threatens as he walks us out of the room and down the hall to the exit.

      "You wouldn't," I respond. Dres raises an eyebrow before he shakes me off like I'm a tick stuck in his clothes. I make a sound and grapple for him. He gets a grip on me before I fall. "And after a long winter break, give it up for our favorite comedian, Dresden Gibson everybody."