Chapter Thirteen A Loving and Healthy Relationship Between a Man and His Pastry
Chapter Thirteen
A Loving and Healthy Relationship Between a Man and His Pastry
The two of them return to the suite with a plate full of still-warm scones, now complete with a drizzle of icing along the
top, that their friends devour.
They’re so good, in fact, that Kevin loudly declares, “If these were a woman, I’d date her for several years before getting
on one knee and proposing, leading to a long and happy life filled with our half-human/half-scone offspring.”
“Kevin, what the fuck are you talking about?” Abigail asks, confusion and scone crumbs on her face.
“I’m talking about a loving and healthy relationship between a man and his pastry. What about my lifestyle offends you, Abigail?”
“Being a bit pastry-phobic, aren’t we?” Kaitlyn jokes, bumping her wife with her hip before going back to devouring the baked
good. “So, the two of you went to a cooking class?”
From across the counter, Owen eyes Jacob.
Jacob eyes Owen.
And for a beat, neither of them says a word.
“Yeah . . .” Jacob breaks the silence first after just a few drawn-out seconds. “I, uh . . . I met up with Owen sort of late.”
Kaitlyn hums as she chews. “I’m guessing Jacob wasn’t much help, huh?” It takes Owen a moment to realize she’s talking to
him.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. He helped . . . with the icing.”
Kaitlyn nods, but she doesn’t say anything. Owen can’t tell if she’s picking up on whatever weird energy the two of them have
conjured up, but it’d be a miracle if she hasn’t.
Given that they only have one more day before they reach Juneau and the last leg of their vacation begins, Kaitlyn and Abigail
want to spend their time wisely. Which means fitting in everything they possibly can.
They start with go-karting, racing the small cars on a track with sections that actually hang off the boat. Owen narrowly snags a victory from Kevin, Abigail and Kaitlyn left in the dust behind them. And poor Jacob winds
up wedged between the two tires that make up the barrier.
After that, they grab lunch before they return to the room. Owen is exhausted, but Kaitlyn still wants to maximize their time
together. So they dress in their swim trunks and waste some time at the indoor pool. Owen, Kaitlyn, and Abigail all watch
as Jacob and Kevin take turns on a huge trapeze that swings them over the water, the two of them doing flips as they soar
through the air before crashing into the water.
They play a quick game of shuffleboard that Owen’s pretty sure he loses at big time, only because he never truly understands
the rules of the game. And they finally head back to the room one final time to shower and dress for dinner.
Kaitlyn keeps their destination a secret from the entire group, even Abigail. The only information they’re given is to “dress fancy.”
“Hey, uh . . . you’ve got the steamer?” Jacob asks, traipsing into Owen and Kevin’s room.
“Yeah,” Owen replies, holding the compact device up as proof.
“Could I ask you to . . .” Jacob wonders, offering Owen his shirt, which he’s happy to take. Never mind that it smells just
like him.
Once dressed, the entire group is escorted by Kaitlyn to one of the higher floors aboard the ship, making their way to a Brazilian
steakhouse, the sort of place where waiters walk around displaying cuts of meat for diners to pick from.
Truthfully, the only thing Owen cares about is the p?o de queijo, the tapioca cheese bread that comes complimentary with their
meals.
“Don’t fill up,” Abigail warns as another plate of the steaming bread is dropped off at their table.
“Hey, I don’t get normal bread, okay?” Owen protests. “Let me have one thing.”
The dinner itself is delicious, though, fatty, tender cuts of meat delivered right to their table. As the night passes, and
everyone becomes a responsible level of drunk—save for Kaitlyn and Owen—their bellies full of meat and bread, they all recline
back in their seats, hands on their stomachs, until the waiters deliver slices of baked cheese drizzled with honey, and then
suddenly everyone has room for more.
“Is this the part of the night where I tell you guys I wanted us to go to Little Shop of Horrors tonight?” Kaitlyn asks, her forehead a little shiny under the warm lights of the restaurant. “I got us tickets and everything.”
“Fuck no, that’s not happening.” Kevin groans, throwing his head back as he sinks further into the booth. “I got the meat
sweats.”
“No way I’m moving for the rest of the night,” Jacob adds, eyes shut tight. “I’ve never been this stuffed full of meat before.”
“Anything to say to that, Owen?” Kaitlyn teases.
Owen’s so full, all he can do is give her the middle finger.
“How about a movie night?” Abigail offers before she amends, “Not at the theater. In the room?”
“That sounds perfect,” Kaitlyn says as the waiter comes by to deliver the bill.
Back in the suite and armed with a doggie bag full of even more p?o de queijo, they all take the time to change into far more
comfortable clothes before they plant themselves on the couch. Owen can’t help himself from picking the spot right next to
Jacob, edging closer as their friends argue for an hour over which movie to pick from the small catalog offered by the cruise
company. Eventually the lights are dimmed, and they settle on a bad horror movie.
It’s standard fare for Owen, who thankfully isn’t an easily terrified person. His friends, however? The movie gets them at
all the expected moments. The loud orchestral stings that make Owen roll his eyes cause them to jump every time, and when an
alien creature melts some poor guy’s face with acid, they all cover their eyes.
It’d be an uneventful night if not for the way that Jacob sidles up next to him, looking for any place to feel a bit safer.
Owen’s heart thuds in his chest the closer Jacob inches, his body worming against Owen’s until he’s practically being pressed
into the arm of the sofa.
During one particularly bad jump scare, Jacob reaches for Owen’s hand underneath the blanket, squeezing tight. Owen waits for the moment to end, for Jacob to realize what he’s doing, to take his hand back.
But he doesn’t.
Not until the movie is over and Kaitlyn turns the lights on, the two of them flinching like they’ve been caught. Jacob finds
episodes of Kitchen Nightmares that’ve been uploaded to YouTube so that they can all wind down. Kaitlyn sprawls out on the couch, her head in Abigail’s lap,
eyes closed while her hair is played with.
Kevin’s on the floor, more than a little drunk, and very invested in the sob story currently playing out on-screen. “This one’s closed too!” he cries, reading through the list he
found breaking down the fate of every restaurant on the show.
And Owen and Jacob sit there, next to each other, trying to ignore what happened.
Owen looks at Jacob, catching him just as he’s looking away from Owen, his heart thudding heavy in his chest. It was supposed to be easy, to let him go, to resist
this pull back to him. But Owen just can’t do it anymore.
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to pretend anymore.
Who says I would’ve regretted it?
There’s no real room for interpretation. Jacob wanted to kiss him back. Where would things have gone had their friends not
come back to the room last night? Would Owen have let Jacob press his hands against his hips, pulling him in close, slipping
his tongue into Owen’s mouth? Would he have followed Jacob into his room? Crawled into bed with him? Kissed him? Fallen asleep
with his head on Jacob’s chest?
Yes, he absolutely would have.
He would’ve followed Jacob wherever he went.
Except he hadn’t. He could’ve put aside his fears, his selfishness, he could’ve saved their relationship by following Jacob.
But he’d been too much of a coward. Too afraid of change, too afraid of letting go of the only life he’d ever felt comfortable in.
It’s not too late, though. It’s never too late to try again, right?
The shop can wait, Owen can set aside everything he’s worked for, he can sell the things he’d be okay parting with, he could
quit the shop, get a visa, work on getting licensed to tattoo again, pack up Fitzwilliam, and move back in with Jacob.
And he could have his old life again.
Sure, he’d be in an unfamiliar country, and he wouldn’t have any of his friends or his support systems. He’d have to find
new insurance, new doctors, pray that they’d help maintain his treatments and actually take his pain seriously. Even then,
though, things might not be the same. They’ve spent a year apart, said truths to each other that they can’t take back.
Jacob turns, just enough for his eyes to meet Owen’s. His expression is soft, understanding, as if he can tell that Owen is
overthinking something.
Owen can’t even pretend; he doesn’t have it in him anymore.
Under the blanket, he reaches for Jacob’s hand.
Kevin goes to bed first, stumbling toward the door as he waves good night. “I’ll apologize in advance for any drunken spooning
we end up doing, Owen.”
“Only if you’re okay with being the little spoon,” Owen tells him.
Kaitlyn and Abigail aren’t far behind him, muttering their exhausted good nights as they hang off each other, shuffling into
their bedroom.
And then . . . it’s just the two of them.
Again.
Gordon Ramsay yells at a chef, doing that thing he always does where he pokes a bucket full of slimy lukewarm chicken. “Ugh.”
Jacob cringes, reaching for the remote to turn the television off.
The sound of the ocean waves reverberates through the room. Owen looks up at Jacob to find that Jacob’s already looking at
him. Expectant, like he’s waiting for the reply to a question he hasn’t asked yet.
“I wasn’t lying,” Jacob says. “Earlier, when I told you that I wouldn’t have regretted kissing you.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Owen asks.
“Because I . . .” Jacob hesitates for one second. Two seconds. Three seconds. “Because I know you, and I know that you were
probably sending yourself into a spiral over what didn’t happen.”
Owen crosses his arms like a child.
“Am I wrong?” Jacob eyes him, cocking an eyebrow.