West strides out of his kitchen with a shit-eating grin on his face and a kidney-shaped cake in his hands. He stops at the head of the table, right beneath the banner that reads We’re going to miss you, Daddy! “Bash, congratulations on finally finding your perfect match,” he announces to the dining room full of our friends. “None of us expected it to be Clyde, but sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. And I, for one, could not be happier for you. Or him.”
