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He didn’t look anything like Isaac, only a trait here or there, a specific smile, gesture, or way he said something.

And his eyes; he had Isaac’s eyes, bright blue to contrast his mother’s dark skin.

“I’ll get you one of these days, Dad,” he said, drum-tapping the table before he pushed out of the booth to head toward the bathrooms. “Be right back.”

A past life of skirting the law meant Isaac was almost always on edge, perceptive to any threats he might have to defend against, but especially around Dalton. He had to be alert, because he had so much more to lose. One of the reasons he’d never considered giving up crime before was because he’d never found something to replace that thrill or possessive sense of accomplishment.

Dalton was so much better than anything he’d ever stolen.

Everything was looking up, and it had all been acquired legally.Mostly. His job. Time with Dalton. Escapades with Andrew Wen in dark rooms and on rooftops…

“Ford?”

Isaac jumped and had to wonder if he’d summoned Andrew simply by thinking of him, because suddenly, there he was, coming from around Isaac’s shoulder. “Andrew.”

“Hi.” There wasn’t any confrontation in his expression today, just a rare, hesitant smile. “Here to enjoy the chicken salad or planning a stick-up later?” he teased—teased, like he was honestly happy to see Isaac.

“What is it with the chicken salad here? Can’t be that special.”

“It’s the dried cherries.”

The warmth that spread through Isaac’s chest surprised him, but he didn’t have much time before Dalton would be back, and Andrew discovering he had a son was just as bad as any enemies.

Then a bitter thought crossed his mind. “Did you track me again?”

“What?No. I just come here.”

That might be true. This was closer to the persona Isaac remembered from when Andrew was a detective. Sympathetic, earnest, almost sweet. It was just as well that he’d found his way off the force.

He looked like he had half a mind to take the empty seat in front of Isaac but hesitated with a bite at his lip. “I know we’re still at odds professionally, and I’m sure you’ll infuriate me to no end trying to steal more jobs from me in the future, but… I never actually apologized for Christmas.”

“Andrew—”

“I get why you left,” he pushed on. “I wasn’t exactly hospitable, and you still kept your end of the bargain. You’ve been a model citizen ever since. You know, besides shameless shenanigans in uniform and invasion of privacy,” he whispered. “But I won’t talk if you don’t.”

The smile that lit Isaac’s face in response surprised him too. He tried to think of a comeback, only for Andrew’s eyes to fall to the empty seat again and notice the second drinking glass.

“Are you on a date?”

“No,” Isaac said too hastily. “It’s not a date.”

“If it was one of your associates, you wouldn’t care, but you’re anxious. Stealing more clients from me already? Or maybe you are planning a job, and you just use security as a front.”

He was teasing again, Isaac could tell, but that's what all the naysayers said: that Isaac was faking it. Once word of the new thief finally spread, they’d all say it was him. A few skirts of thelaw were one thing, but he couldn't risk going back to jail, not when he had Dalton.

Dalton—who was out of the bathroom and headed for their table!

“Listen, now isn’t the best—”

“Andrew?”

Andrew spun around when Dalton called his name.

When Daltoncalled his name.

“Dalton? Oh my God, how are you?”

They hugged, completely unabashed in their open display of affection.