On the heels of the food, a skinny guy in a souped up wheelchair came rolling through the door, looked around, and yelled, “Gordon!”
Surprisingly, David had arrived. I got up, dropping my napkin to the floor, and raced over to him. When he put his arms out toward me, I squatted and hugged him.
“Damn, it’s good to see you.” I could feel the tears building in my eyes.
Behind Davey, a tall red-headed man stood shaking his head.
“Did I or did I not tell you to wait for me?” His voice broke through our hug.
Dave glanced over his shoulder.
“Gordon, this beautiful hunk of a man is my husband Ian. Ian, this is the infamous Gordo whom, on the very night of the Senior Prom, I rescued from the brink of…” David looked up, his eyes round like portholes behind his designer glasses. “…from the brin
