Chapter Thirteen
Tyson
Where I expected the next morning to be awkward, as we sat in the classic diner Fifties—apparently a staple of Mission City—I found little tension.
Hamish sipped an Earl Grey tea while Donovan and I drank black coffee.
A lovely, bubbly server named Patrice had taken our orders. Omelet for Donovan, steak and eggs for me, and a waffle with strawberries for Hamish.
Donovan and I sat next to each other, across from Hamish in the booth. If the dynamic bothered him, he certainly made no sign of it. The seating, of course, had been dictated by Donovan. Somehow, he seemed to have a hand in everything. Sometimes almost invisible—and something blatantly obvious.
He’d visited the diner when they’d been doing a shoot in town a few years ago. In fact, Vigilante Justice had filmed an entire scene in this space. Apparently, Lyric and Justice had gotten into a fight—par for the course for them—and many, many, many dishes had been broken.
I wished I’d had time to stream the show in my spare free moments. With five seasons, though, that would’ve been a lot to watch.
Maybe I could talk these two into a few binge weekends. Donovan might not want to. That said, if it meant spending time with the two of us, he’d probably be game. Nothing ventured… “Okay, so I’d love to see the VJ episode filmed here.”
Hamish grinned. “Oh yes. I love the atmosphere. So very fifties. With the posters, music, booths, and everything.”
“One of the few classic standalone diners left in Canada.” Donovan smiled. “I’d love to show you the episode.”
“Well, the entire series.” Hamish bit his lower lip. “Or I can watch it alone.”
“Not alone.” Donovan said the words with such vehemence that I turned to look at him. His gaze cut back and forth between Hamish and me. “Never alone. Not with us around.” He subtly leaned against me.
Despite the diner being almost full, I didn’t worry.
Here, this far away from Vancouver, we were safe.
And in the next booth, two men appeared to be trying to wrangle twin toddlers who were clearly finished with their food and wanting to get into mischief.
One gentleman was an older ginger with a full beard while one was a younger South Asian guy.
That younger guy grabbed a toddler-sized coat. “Violet, you’re going to let Daddy put the coat on.”
“No.”
Hamish glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to face me. “I know twin toddlers. My sister. Pure chaos.” He whispered the words, obviously so the men wouldn’t hear.
“See, Violet? Victor is letting me put his coat on.” The ginger grinned.
After a moment, the clearly recalcitrant Violet allowed her father to put her coat on. “Okay, Papa.”
“Good girl.”
“I’ll pay while you get them settled in the car?” The younger guy grinned.
The cute ginger groaned.
“Hey, I did car seats to get us here.”
“Yeah, I guess. Okay, who’s ready for a ride?”
Victor raised his hand while Violet jumped up and down. Her father wrapped his arms around her and managed to get her outside the booth and onto the floor.
As the other guy did the same thing, their father grabbed their hands. The two men kissed, and soon the younger guy and the twins had departed.
After a moment, the ginger stood. He caught my eye. “Sorry.”
I waved him off with a smile. “Lovely family.”
“You mean pure chaos.”
Hamish twisted in his seat. His red hair was more golden than the deep red of the frazzled father. “My sister has twins. They’re a joy.”
“If you say so.” The guy smiled, though. “I’m a very lucky man.” He gestured with his chin. “Enjoy your meal in silence. Well, relatively.”
The loud music mixed with plenty of chatter—but I understood his meaning.
“Have a great day.” Donovan grinned.
“I will.” With that, the guy left.
Hamish exhaled. “Oh, I’m a little appreciative they’re gone.”
“Watch, the next family will be worse.”
He shuddered. “I’m so glad we’re good with not doing that.”
Donovan laughed. “Me too.”
I nodded my agreement. I was also relieved that, even out here in bible-belt Cedar Valley, an interracial gay couple could be free with their affection. I shook my head. “Where were we?”
“Just saying that we’re never going to be alone again. Right, Tyson?” Donovan’s words jolted me out of my ruminations about other gay couples.
I blinked. “Yes. Of course. Never alone again.” Yet even as I said the words, I wondered about their wisdom. We weren’t even officially together. So many barriers still existed. So how could I promise something I wasn’t actually convinced would ever happen?
But it will. Donovan’s personality, and sheer stubbornness, will ensure it happens.
“I’ve got your food.” Patrice, all stunning dark-brown eyes, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and curves to die for, arrived with a large tray. She handed each of us our food, and I salivated.
Last night’s dinner was a long-ago memory.
“Thank you.” Hamish beamed his appreciation. Always so damn earnest. Always so fucking adorable.
“You let me know if you need anything else.” With that, Patrice took off.
Donovan and I dug into our food, but Hamish hesitated.
I swallowed. “Something wrong? Those strawberries look delicious. And whipped cream?”
“I can think of all kinds of creative uses of whipped cream.” Donovan grinned. His attempt at lightheartedness fell flat.
Hamish swallowed, then—at length—his gaze met ours. “My boss and her husband live in Mission City. They’ve just had a baby. I, uh…”
Donovan laid his cutlery on the table and reached out his hand.
After a long moment, Hamish took it.
“You want to see them?”
He nodded. “I think I have to. Last night—” He leaned closer. “I want more of that. But I want it to be okay. Just—” He blinked. “I’m at risk of losing my job.”
I wanted to tell him that he’d be okay. That Donovan and I would take care of him—emotionally and financially. The truth was that Vancouver was an expensive city and even if we pooled our resources, we might have a tough time.
Pool our resources? What does that even mean? Moving in together?
I just didn’t know. Still, I offered my most confident smile. “We’ll get through this, okay? Between the three of us, I’m pretty certain we can come up with some great ideas.” Yet at the moment, I didn’t have one.
Donovan subtly pressed his thigh to mine. “We’ve made it this far—don’t give up on us yet.”
A message directed at Hamish—but for me as well.
Hamish nodded. He released Donovan’s hand, and then he cut a piece of waffle, carefully placed a strawberry atop it, added a dab of whipped cream—then dunked it into a pond of syrup.
“You haven’t told us about the Golden Globes.
” Then he shoved the forkful into his mouth—in a very un-Hamish-like fashion.
I smothered a chuckle. Okay. Change of subject. I empathize. Because we hadn’t even gotten to me yet.
Donovan grinned. “Well, a bunch of statues and—”
Hamish waved his fork around, swallowed, then met Donovan’s gaze. Then he swung his fork back and forth between my companion and me.
“Ah.” Donovan’s grin didn’t falter. “I will say that escorting Julie was close to the highlight of my career. Even if she hadn’t won, I was so damn proud of her.”
“She looked stunning in that emerald-green dress.” Because I wanted to prove I was paying attention to the important parts of his life.
“Yeah, she did. I was also with Elouise and Kelci. Man, Elouise’s performance in that movie? Just so amazing. I wasn’t surprised she won.” More grinning. “And Kelci’s choice to go without a wig was so cool. She owns her alopecia—which is amazing.”
“Didn’t she say something about Elouise giving her the confidence to go with her head uncovered?” Again, I was desperately trying to keep up with the important people in Donovan’s life.
He nodded. “For sure. Helped that the weather was so warm in LA. She’s not so quick to go without a wig and/or a hat in Vancouver during the winter.”
“Yeah. Lots of snow this year. More than usual.” Hamish winced, then he cut another piece of waffle. “Glitz and glamor?”
Donovan chuckled. “You’re of a singular mind this morning.”
Hamish’s gaze shot from his plate to Donovan. “You feel like opening your heart and soul? Or maybe this isn’t the time and place?”
Ouch. Hit a nerve, did he?
I was about to speak when Donovan beat me to it. “Point taken. I’m just concerned.”
“That I’ll try to back out of this? Whatever this is?” Hamish again waved his fork around to encompass the three of us.
“So yes, glitz and glamor. I even wore a tuxedo.” He shivered—clearly for show.
“You looked handsome.” I cut off a piece of steak. “Oh crap.” I glanced around and, in a moment of true providence, caught Patrice’s gaze.
She headed my way with a huge smile. “Everything okay? I meant to check earlier. We’re just so busy.”
Before I could speak, Hamish spoke up. “Delicious. Absolutely perfect.”
Patrice beamed. Then she turned her attention to me.
“Steak sauce?”
“You got it.” She surveyed the table. “Anything else?”
We all shook our heads.
She headed off.
“Steak sauce?” Donovan chuckled.
“British brown steak sauce.” I grinned. “My dad gave it to me when I was a kid, and I fell in love. Way better than ketchup on steak. Well, on most red meat.”
“I’d like to try a taste—without the steak.” Hamish grinned. “Being adventurous.”
“It’s got a bite to it.” Donovan arched his eyebrow at me.
I pressed a hand to my chest. “Are you saying I have a bite as well?”
“I’d love to find out—”
“Here’s your steak sauce.” Patrice placed it on the table and was gone again.
Donovan cleared his throat.
Hamish chuckled. “Tyson, you walked right into that one.”
I pursed my lips—for a fraction of a second. Then I smiled. “I’ve never tried nipping. Or biting. I’m intrigued.”
“Quite an adventure.” Donovan pointed to his arm. “Doesn’t show marks. Not that you’d be trying on me.”
Hamish let out a little strangled sound.
Donovan and I both laughed.
The oldest—and yet least experienced— cut another piece of waffle.
“Tuxedo? You looked amazing.” I doused my steak in the sauce.
“So you watched?”
Hamish snorted. “Of course we did.”
Donovan cocked his head. “Together?”