Epilogue
Eoin
EARLY OCTOBER
If you’d asked me a year ago how many times I’d sit at my boss’s dining table while a bunch of coworkers and friends discussed my romantic life at my request, I’d have said zero. And yet, somehow this is the second time this year.
Hopefully it’ll be the last ever.
Still, I’m strangely glad to be here. Everyone’s still finding their seats and talking loudly, and they’re about to ask me and Dáithí a lot of personal questions, but there’s something about knowing they’re here because they want us to be happy together that makes me feel good.
Well… all of them except Steffen are here because they want us to be happy. He’s here because Brandt made him come—he told me so. It’s nice to have him here anyway.
“I wish I had my spray bottle,” Dáithí mutters from the seat beside me, but he’s smiling at the chaos, and I reach over and lace my fingers with his before resting both our hands on the tabletop. Then we wait.
And wait.
For fuck’s sake, how long does it take to sit in a chair and shut up?
Eventually, they’re all sitting, and more or less quiet, so Dáithí clears his throat.
“I’d thank you all for coming, but if it were up to me, none of us would be here.
” Even though he appreciates the reasons I’m doing this and sometimes looks at me with heart eyes because of it, there’s still a lot of grudging disgruntlement in his voice.
It makes me smile.
“Anyway, Eoin has completed all the tasks on the list, including the redacted ones, so it’s time to end this once and for all.” He sits back, still holding my hand, while I bask smugly in the knowledge that I managed to complete tasks without even knowing what they were. That’s a special skill.
Caolan stands, smiling beatifically. “If you’ll all turn your attention to the wall,” he gestures toward the end of the table and the expanse of wall above the sideboard, from where a painting has been temporarily relocated.
This time, he was determined to be able to show us all his presentation, so he brought a projector with him.
Even as we obediently look, he casts a spell to darken the area around the wall and allow the projection to be seen clearly.
“Oooh,” Alistair murmurs appreciatively. “That’s so much cooler than turning the lights off.”
“Before we discuss Eoin’s performance—”
Snickers and a round of jeers break out, because apparently we’re all just that mature. I smirk. “I’m very proud of my performance, thanks.”
“Me too,” Dáithí says loyally, then winks at me. “Especially—”
“Dude,” Hagen interrupts. “No. I’m still recovering from all the things I heard when I was his roommate. I don’t need any more trauma to recover from.”
I laugh, because he’s the roommate that caused the trauma. Things were a lot less sticky in the house after he moved out.
“I’m not sure I should be here for this conversation,” Raeulfr says. “This probably falls into the category of things I shouldn’t know about the people who work for me.”
“That’s the category that has all the good stuff in it,” Brandt objects. “We definitely need to be here for this conversation.”
“Anyway,” Caolan says loudly, “before we move on, I’m going to recap the tasks involved in the Summit of Love.”
Dáithí groans at the mention of the name, but I know he’s a tiny bit fond of it, deep down inside. Waaaay deep down. Even if he refuses to say it out loud unless he absolutely has to.
Caolan clicks the thing in his hand that looks like a very boring dildo but isn’t, and the image on the wall changes to a bulleted list. “Plan and execute a series of dates,” he reads.
“This was later agreed to be three. Take a shift at Dáithí’s job.
Clean Dáithí’s apartment. Surprise Dáithí.
” He pauses, then clicks his dildo again.
The image changes to show the heading “Redacted Tasks” with nothing beneath it.
I bet he’s trying to build anticipation. Caolan’s always been the dramatic type, in an earnest, understated way. According to rumor, the first time he met his boyfriend, he made a flowery, over-the-top speech about David’s perfection. It’s only gotten worse since he fell in with his new friends.
“And finally,” he declares, voice thrumming with drama, “we can reveal to Eoin the redacted tasks.”
I lean forward. Maybe he’s being over the top, but I can’t deny I’m eager to know what they are.
After I told Dáithí I was going to finish the challenge, he refused to tell me on principle, even though according to him it didn’t matter if I knew because he was choosing me anyway. I love it when he’s mean.
Click.
The first item of a bulleted list appears on the wall. Look after a dependent living entity.
I frown, then when the pieces come together, hiss at Dáithí, “Did you adopt Elsking to test me?”
“No, but this task was the prompt that reminded me how much I wanted another pet. I wouldn’t have adopted her otherwise.”
If I didn’t know him so well and hadn’t seen how much he adores her, I’d have serious doubts. “What—”
“Could we hold all discussion, please?” Alistair interrupts. “We’ll address each task in turn, but it’s important we keep to the agenda.”
Maybe Dáithí was right and we should have called the whole thing off a month ago.
Caolan clicks again, and another bullet point appears. Be responsible for something important to Dáithí.
Yikes. I don’t think I’ve done that. Keeping my face expressionless, I try to catch Ari’s eye, maybe get a hint about what this task actually means, but he’s glaring at the tabletop.
He’s been in a rotten mood since the Community Hockey League training camp a few weeks back.
Longer, actually—since he went to apologize to Felix Ansas.
It probably doesn’t help that the king and Jared decided they wanted to set up an outreach collaboration between the DEA and the Warhammers to get young elves and dragons involved in the sport, and Ari got assigned as liaison until someone else can take over.
Technically, it’s a job that falls outside the scope of the security team, but since they wanted to get it started immediately to coincide with the season, nobody from the PR department or Caolan’s projects team was available to spearhead it.
Jared suggested that Ari temporarily step into the role, with support from PR, until workloads could be reshuffled…
and neither Ari nor I could think of a reason to refuse.
Admittedly, I didn’t try very hard. Dáithí asked me not to. I’m not sure what that’s about, but I hope to find out soon.
The dildo clicks again, and the heading changes to The Dates, a table appearing below. It’s divided into three columns, each containing a bulleted list. Caolan must really like those. The lists are headed Baseball, Club, and Hiking.
“Let’s begin with the first date,” Caolan says as I read the points in each list. “I’ve included the top-level feedback you all provided, but this is our chance to discuss it in detail.”
“Or we could not discuss it in detail,” Dáithí counters.
“Yes!” Noah slaps a hand on the table. “That. I like that idea.”
“But—”
“No.”
“What if we just raise any concerns?” Alistair suggests. “Don’t steal all our joy, please.”
Noah’s face says pretty clearly that he’d happily take the job of joy stealer, but he just sighs. “We’re spending five minutes on each task. I’ll be generous and give you six minutes for this first one, so you can divide them evenly between the three dates.”
Team Bro jaws collectively drop, and Alistair starts sputtering.
“I’ll time them,” Steffen announces, pulling out his phone.
Dáithí edges his chair closer to mine and leans against me. “This is more fun than I thought it would be,” he whispers.
Caolan, Andrew, and Alistair try to argue with Steffen, but he simply taps his phone screen and says, “Your time has begun.”
“Baseball!” Hagen shouts wildly. “Eoin gets points for picking an activity Dáithí likes, cranking it up a level to fancy, and… and…”
“Not just fancy,” Jared points out. “The fancy part was a bonus. He thought about how much Dáithí likes gossip and managed to find a way to combine two activities into a super-date.”
I preen. Super-date? I’ll take it.
Niamh’s nodding. “Yeah. Dáithí got to dress up, and he didn’t just hear gossip, he got to hang out with people and make new friends. He likes all those things.”
“Any negatives?” Andrew asks, and when nobody speaks up, he nods. “Next date… the nightclub.”
“Does it count?” Brandt asks, and when a round of gasps goes up, he holds up his hands. “I’m not saying it doesn’t, but we need a clear ruling on this. It was a group activity. Does it count as a date?”
I… didn’t think of that. Dáithí likes hanging out with friends, and he especially likes clubbing with people he knows. I didn’t consider whether that would disquali—
“It counts,” he says firmly, and I exhale with enough force to make my shoulders slump.
Brandt grins wickedly. “Great! I wasn’t invited, but it sounds like it was a fun night.”
Oh, fuck. “I—”
“Ignore him,” the king instructs. “We don’t have time for this.”
The reminder that Steffen is timing us sends Team Bro into a flurry of discussion.
“Dáithí loves dancing—”
“Clubbing in general, really—”
“—and the VIP area with bottle service elevated it—”
“—got to dress up again—”
“—arranged for his favorite DJ to be there—”
“—hanging out with friends—”
“What? Stop,” Dáithí cuts in. “What did you just say? About my favorite DJ?”
“She was the featured DJ that night,” Alistair explains. “Adjoa K. She’s your favorite, right?” He looks around. “I’m sure someone said that.”
Dáithí gestures impatiently, and I worry my lower lip with my teeth. There’s a very slim chance this isn’t going to go my way.
“She is, but what did you mean, Eoin arranged for her to be there?”
All eyes turn to me, and I shrug awkwardly. “She’s your favorite.”
He gapes. “You… how? I knew she wasn’t supposed to be in town! How did you do this?”