by Hayden Stone
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Blake says affectionately, nipping at my ear, his arm around me as he at last takes in the flat. Fresh flowers, the table set, even a couple of candles in jars. London shifts to twilight beyond the window, deepening blues with broken cloud.
“I’m glad. Want some water? Wine? You must be exhausted.”
“Water first, then wine. I was exhausted, but being back, I’m a new man,” Blake teases.
“Hardly recognize you,” I quip without missing a beat. “Some strange man’s in my flat.”
“Hey!” Laughing, he pretends to growl and sweeps me up for more kisses, and then we’re carrying on like people who’ve been apart for an eternity, which, to be fair, it’s been at least one, if not two.
“Mm.” I’m unable to stop smiling. “Though I might recognize those kisses.”
“Might!” Blake shakes his head affectionately at me.
“Might,” I affirm, as we go into the sleek kitchen with gray glossy cabinets and wood countertops. I pour water for us, and then open the wine as Blake downs his water.
We clink wineglasses. “Welcome back,” I say.
“Good to be back.”
“How was California and the celeb life?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “All right. No comparison to being back with you. How are you? How’s the shop?”
“It’s getting busier every day. And hopefully with the lead into Christmas, it’ll get busier yet.”
“It will,” Blake affirms. “I’ve got a plan to get some of that Christmas traffic.”
“Can’t wait to hear about it.”
Earlier today, I worked with Gemma. With Blake’s long-distance help over video chats and emails during the last couple of months, we’ve come up with a business plan to turn the shop around. We’re working to update our website for online sales of new and used books. I’ve put out ads. We’re starting to book events, like having authors come read. The shop’s gotten busier and if this keeps up, Gemma will need to be full-time, and I’ll need to hire more help. The bills are settled with the payout for filming. The shop is starting to build a reserve already, thanks to Blake’s help.
“Gifts now or later?” Blake says affectionately as we go sit on the sofa. Blake splurged and bought us a vegan-friendly oversize sofa that fits two snuggling together very comfortably. And I’m definitely pro-snuggling when Blake’s home.
I pretend to consider. A small gift sits wrapped and waiting on the coffee table. “Who said anything about gifts?”
“You fool no one, Mr. Barnes.” Blake grins at me, warming me to my core. It’s so good to have him back.
“Who says that’s for you?” I can’t stop smiling.
“What, you’re wrapping gifts for yourself now?”
“Well,” I say matter-of-factly. “With you away, I need to pass the time somehow.”
“Pfft.” Blake reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tissue-wrapped gift. It’s a long tube, and for a moment I reflect back to Gemma’s threat months ago about a cross-merchandising campaign of dildos and books and wonder if she somehow got to Blake while I was away. I’m all for inappropriate gifts, even if that might not be the first thought about gifts from America.
He puts the gift into my hand, and it’s definitely…dense?
“What…?”
“Go on and open it,” Blake encourages, grinning broadly, dimples showing. Because of course he has them. “Your face.” He kisses me.
“Mm, keep that up and there’ll be no gift opening at all. There’s dinner warming in the oven. Don’t let me forget.” I give the gift an experimental squeeze. Still firm. “Huh.”
At last, I unravel tissue and tape, and I’m stunned to discover that, in fact, it’s no kind of sex toy. Instead, it’s a cellophane tube of…black and white orca beans?
And, silly me, all of a sudden I have something caught in my throat.
Blake rubs my back lightly. I’m getting emotional over beans, something I didn’t know about myself before now. I just look at him. “Oh…”
Blake gives me another kiss for good measure, and it’s bliss. God, I could get used to this. “I know it’s a strange gift, but sometimes you need to find the rare ones, you know?”
“Did I ever tell you I love you?”
“You’ve never given me love confessions over beans before.”
“There’s always a first time,” I assure Blake. I inspect the tube, complete with a cellophane twist at the top secured with twine that holds a card with a soup recipe. “This is really cool. Cheers.”
“Course.”
I give him the small gift on the table. It’s actually two gifts in one. I watch Blake unwrap the package with care, loosening the ribbon, peeling back the paper. Inside, he finds a small framed photo of us that Gemma took of us laughing together in the shop, as Blake covered my face in kisses. And a small handmade booklet of a few poems I’d written while he was away.
And when I look at him, it’s his turn to be suspiciously tearful.
“You wrote these?” Blake marvels at the small hand-bound booklet. “And made this?”
“For you, lovely. I did.” Nights while Blake was away, after the shop work was done for the day, I started working on my poetry in earnest again, finding freedom in writing.
“Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before.”
“Aww. Well, there you are.”
And then we kiss and I curl into his arm. We settle together on the sofa as he reads aloud a couple of the poems I wrote. And he reads brilliantly, his voice smooth and deep, practiced from his acting life.
Comforted like this, we have cozy winter nights together ahead of us, before the days lengthen once more to summer. Together, we’ll forge our own kind of heat, of heart and home.
Acknowledgments
There are so many people along the way who have encouraged and supported me in my writing journey. I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
Special thanks to my editor, Heather Howland, for believing in my work and making these stories so much stronger. Many thanks to the amazing Entangled team for bringing this novel to life, from all of the different departments.
Several critique partners have read versions of this story along the way, providing great feedback and encouragement: Ambrose Hall, C.N. Steinhour, T.M. Delligatti. Chandra Fisher, Anita Kelly, Charlotte Kinzie, and Jen Tarr. Special thanks to Gwynne Jackson and Andy Palanzuelo for believing in me as a writer and in my writing.
Last but not least, for my loved ones.
About the Author
More animal than mineral, Hayden Stone is a writer of fun queer fiction, especially with kissing. He currently lives in Victoria, Canada, and has previously lived in Vancouver, Canada and London, UK. He likes strong coffee and is owned by two cats. You can find out his latest news on Twitter or Instagram, or at his website: haydenstonebooks.com
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