Chapter 3
The kitchen at High Water smelled like flour, cinnamon, and fresh snow. The combination didn’t make sense, but Kevin had learned by now that a lot of things about this place worked exactly like that.
Unexpected. Unapologetic. Good for you, whether you realized it or not.
“Spheres,” five-year-old Jeffrey intoned seriously, rolling a wad of dough on the tabletop. “The buns need to be round like spheres. Or eyeballs.”
Kevin blinked. “Eyeballs?”
Jeffrey grinned, all gap-toothed and proud. “Mommy taught me ‘bout spheres.”
“Did she?” Kevin side-eyed her, amused.
Tansy smirked as she wiped her hands on a towel. “I also told him the key to fluffy dinner buns is to let them rise—without poking them too often. That lesson doesn’t seem to be sinking in as hard.”
“I heard her,” Jeffrey whispered to Kevin as if it were a secret. “But my fingers want to poke anyway.”
“Every scientist has that problem,” Kevin said solemnly, earning a giggle.
Truth was, Kevin liked spending time with the kid. Baking was low-stakes chaos—yeast and flour and sugar turning into something warm and good. He liked having those things in his life.
Tansy hummed happily as she expertly prepped a second and third tray while they butchered their batch. “You home for dinner tonight?” she asked Kevin.
“Not tonight,” Kevin said. “I’ve got plans.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “Art gallery winter exhibit.”
Tansy raised an eyebrow. “Taking Edison?”
“He’s taking me. Then dinner after at his place.”
“What’re you bringing?” She folded the dough in her hand and twisted, and it magically turned into a perfect ball. Sphere. Whatever.
Kevin opened his mouth. Closed it. “A bottle of wine,” he offered after a beat.
“That’s nice,” Tansy said, but her tone held a mild challenge. He felt the nudge before she even added, “And?”
And nothing. That was the problem.
Kevin swallowed and leaned his hands on the edge of the island. He was the shit at finding gift ideas that were more than useless, meaningless trinkets. “I’ve been thinking about Christmas. About big picture stuff. I didn’t even think to plan tonight properly.”
Tansy turned, hands on her hips, head tilting. “You think he expects a grand gesture?”
“No. That’s the thing. Edison doesn’t make demands like that.” Kevin stared at the flour-dusted counter. “But I want to give more. He deserves something that feels intentional.”
“I like Edison.” Jeffrey poked a bun squarely in the middle, all attention on his finger as it sank into the soft dough. “Is he your boyfriend?”
Tansy gasped dramatically. “Nosy question, little tyke.”
Kevin couldn’t help laughing. “It’s okay. Yes. Edison’s important to me.”
“Good. I like him, too.” Jeffrey nodded, completely satisfied. “I know he likes snacks. Oh! You should get him a snow globe. That would make him happy.”
Kevin pressed his lips together. “We’ll see.”
Tansy leaned a hip against the counter. “You know, the gallery sells small prints and gift cards and hand-painted mugs. If you’re dead set on picking something up.”
He groaned. “I’m not great with ‘things.’ Not when it counts.”
“Well, then forget the things,” Tansy said, sharp and kind at the same time. “You’re good at being present. At showing up. Do that.”
Kevin let that sink in. Do that.
“I just...” He trailed off. “I don’t want to screw this up.”
“You won’t,” she said simply. “Not if you keep doing what you already do. Notice what he cares about. Listen. Ask him to show you what matters.”
One of the ranch hands wandered into the house at that point, and the day slipped away with other tasks. Both the poked and unpoked buns were cooling on baking racks by the time Kevin left the house for the final time later that afternoon.
He stepped into the cool November sunshine, checked the bottle of wine in the car, then double-checked it. It didn’t feel like enough, but at least it was something.
As he turned the ignition, he reminded himself. Eyes open. Ears open. Heart open.
Edison wouldn’t demand anything. But Kevin was ready to offer it anyway.
Kevin pulled up to the small house Edison rented near the coulee on the far side of town.
His overeager date was already waiting on the porch.
The porch light glowed behind him as he bounced down the steps.
A knit beanie was pulled low over his curls and a long red coat was zipped and belted tightly at his waist.
Kevin rolled down the window. “I was going to walk all the way to the door. You robbed me of a very romantic knock.”
Edison grinned as he rushed forward. “I didn’t want you peeking inside. I have surprises planned.”
“That so?”
Edison opened the passenger door. “That is so.”
The scent of cinnamon and chocolate and good clean soap hovered around his passenger as Edison buckled in with deliberate care.
“You good?” Kevin asked.
Edison nodded. “Better than. You?”
Kevin chuckled. “Ask me again in two hours.”
His date hummed softly, face going serious. “If the art show’s not your thing, we could—”
“Not worried about the art,” Kevin reassured him quickly. He reached across the space between them and squeezed Edison’s fingers softly. “Don’t mind me. My brain is tangling in knots for no reason. The company is fantastic, so the art could be crayon drawings for all I care.”
He found a parking space on Main Street. The shops along the wooden boardwalk were lit up with strings of twinkle lights. The town looked festive and bright and happy, and as Edison slipped his hand around the crook of Kevin’s elbow, some of the unwelcome nerves slid away.
Inside, the gallery was already half full. Coats rustled and boots squeaked and soft murmurs of appreciation floated beneath ambient music.
The first floor had been transformed into a winding series of angled walls and narrow hallways, each one holding small wonders.
The wintery theme turned out to include a mix of old- and new-style paintings.
Soft watercolours and dramatic oils, silent forests and snow-slick city streets. Some local, some classic.
Kevin moved slowly. Edison didn’t.
Edison bounced from painting to painting with light on his face and commentary that blended art terms with delight.
“Look at the light in this one—it’s got that golden haze that screams contentment, don’t you think?
” Or, “I swear this exact birch grove lived in my childhood dreams.” Then, “This guy? Painted snow the way it feels, not just how it looks. It’s sticky and hushed and alive. ”
Kevin followed, not saying much. Just watching.
He didn’t have Edison’s vocabulary for brushstroke or palette, but he knew this—Edison glowed when he was excited, and not just metaphorically. His eyes got brighter. His posture taller. His laugh when something surprised him was like striking a match in a dark room.
At one small canvas depicting a train winding through mountain passes under northern lights, Edison stopped, fingers pressed dramatically to his chest. “This reminds me of a trip we took when I was twelve. I got to sit in the dome car. Everyone else was bored, but I watched snow hit the glass and thought it was magic.”
Kevin couldn’t stop himself. “You’re kind of magic.”
Edison turned to him with mock suspicion. “Was that flirting?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re out of practice.”
“Am I?”
“Definitely.”
Kevin leaned in just a little, his voice low. “That’s okay. I have a good teacher. I promise I’ll get better.”
Edison beamed at him, all dimples and glitter-soft eyeshadow.
They made their way upstairs. Fern Gabrielle stood beside a VR setup and waved them over. Her prosthesis was decorated with bright red ribbon and a shiny red bow. “Afternoon, gentlemen. You ready to walk through some magical winter dreams?”
Edison stepped forward like a kid at an amusement park. “Every day of my life.”
She slid headsets into their hands and adjusted the settings. “This program lets you move through actual landscapes used as references by the Group of Seven, and then their painting interpretations. It’s a soft-footprint kind of time travel.”
They took their places.
With the flick of a switch, Kevin was in a world of soft hush and swirling frost, beside Edison’s avatar—a flickering outline with Edison’s gestures and stance. In silence, they wandered across snowy fields, through pine forests rimmed with mist, over lakes frozen into glass.
At one point, Edison reached out—just a hand lift in real life—and in the VR world, it mirrored him perfectly.
“Would you look at that,” Edison whispered, quiet with awe. “We’re walking through brushstrokes.”
Kevin didn’t say much. He didn’t need to. Edison’s joy did the speaking for them both.
Later, out in the crisp night, Edison clutched Kevin’s arm. “That was better than expected.”
“Agreed.”
“I mean—art and VR and snowy romance?” Edison bumped his shoulder gently. “If you’d brought me a snow globe, I might’ve swooned.”
Kevin chuckled. Seems the kid this morning had been right. “Missed opportunity.”
Edison looked up at him. “But you were here. That’s what matters.”
He couldn’t stop himself. Kevin leaned in and kissed the man. Soft and tender and full of heart. Edison hummed happily, and when they pulled apart, Edison’s eyes shone like stars.
The whole drive to Edison’s, Kevin swore twinkling galaxies swirled inside the vehicle.
The house, small and neat, had lights glowing in the windows and mismatched furniture visible through sheer curtains. Inside, it smelled like cumin and garlic and roasted vegetables.
The kitchen was half open to the living space, with Edison’s flair tucked into every corner. A string of paper snowflakes ran across the top of the window. Candles in odd glass jars. Art prints of constellations. A stack of board games on the table next to a record player spinning low jazz.
Kevin stood awkwardly, more aware than ever that he hadn’t brought anything to make the night special. The wine, sure, but beyond that, he had no game plan. Just himself.
And yet—
Edison glanced from his spot in front of the stove with a warm look. Slowly, one brow drifted upward. “You’re wearing your thinking face. Brain still running on overdrive?”
Kevin blinked. “Sorry. I’m...I don’t know. Hoping I didn’t screw up.”
Edison paused, the spoon hanging precariously over the steaming pot. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I didn’t bring anything but wine. Because I didn’t plan something impressive.” Because I want this to matter and I’m not sure how to show that right now.
After carelessly tossing the spoon onto a bright red plate, Edison walked to him slowly, carefully, and placed his palms flat against Kevin’s chest. “You’re here. You’re honest. You let me drag you through snowy pine trees in a VR simulator and you listened to my commentary. You were wonderful.”
Kevin looked at him—really looked. “You think so?”
Edison nodded. “Yeah. I do. And I’m glad you’re here tonight.”
That, more than any snow globe or present, was the moment that lodged deep in Kevin’s chest and stayed.
Edison clapped his hands and tilted his head jauntily. “And now? Supper is nearly ready. Time to work.”
Kevin took a slow, deep breath. He couldn’t be sure of the future. He still hadn’t cracked the code on what to give Edison for Christmas.
But he knew this much; tonight felt different. The air between them shifted—just slightly—but enough for Kevin to believe that something was unfolding.
Something important.