Epilogue
Four Years Later
“How far away are they?” Owen asks Kevin as he pulls the skillet out of the oven.
“Uhhh . . .” Kevin slips his phone out of his back pocket. “Thirty minutes? No . . . Twenty. Twenty-five?”
“Kevin . . . dude.” Owen glares.
“Sorry!” He holds his phone out to show Owen the screen. “It was updating! I don’t know what to tell you.”
“It’s fine.” Owen shakes his head, grabbing his oven mitt to slip the brownies out. Because of course he couldn’t just stop
at the cobbler. No, of course not. Everyone’s just lucky he forgot to get more flour at Grocery Outlet. “Any updates on the
food, Hailey?”
“Yeah.” She turns to Owen from the couch, her phone sandwiched between her ear and her shoulder as she rips pieces of tape
to hang up Jacob’s sign. “Ravi’s on the way; he made it halfway back before he realized he left a bag at the restaurant.”
“Any chance he could pick up the pace?”
“He’s going as fast as he can, Owen,” she says in a clearly frustrated tone.
He knows he’s being annoying; he knows it.
He just wants to get this right.
“Sorry, sorry.” Owen holds his hands up defensively, turning the oven off. It’s absolutely boiling in his kitchen.
“Just relax, O-dog.” Kevin slides into the kitchen to join Owen. “What can I do to help?”
“Grab the plates from down there.” Owen nods to the cabinet under the sink. “And then we’ll probably want to use these soup
bowls for the food, so go ahead and get those out too.”
“Got it!” Kevin salutes, doing exactly as he’s told.
“Yeah, okay, yeah . . . I think like twenty minutes?” Owen hears Hailey say to Ravi on the other end of the line. “But who
knows, this time of day, it might take them an hour to get through GGP.” She snorts, Pari following her mother to the wall
with the tape dispenser.
Out of the corner of his eye, Owen sees Kevin stand, patting his butt to look for his phone before he pulls it out, reading
something quickly before he turns. “Kaitlyn says to check your phone.”
Owen huffs, wiping his flour-coated hands on his apron before he pulls up his text messages.
Kaitlyn: almost there!!!!!!
Kaitlyn: how are things looking??
Kaitlyn: owennnnnnnnnnn
Kaitlyn: are you there????
Kaitlyn: we just got past the park, so like . . . fifteen minutes?
“Shit,” he sings, typing out a quick reply.
“Uncle Owen has to put a dollar in the swear jar!” Pari calls out, ripping another piece of tape for her mother.
“I keep meaning to talk to you about starting a credit line,” Owen tells her, sending several replies to Kaitlyn all at once.
The apartment is nowhere near ready for this homecoming party. Owen thought he had time, he really did. He’d woken up totally prepared to spend his entire
day getting ready for Jacob’s grand return to the Bay. That was before he’d gotten several messages about the security alarm
at the shop going off, so he’d rushed down to Full Metal to sort everything out. Then he’d been forced to spend hours on the
phone with the security company to try and get someone out there to fix the issue they’d promised they were going to come fix weeks ago.
And while he was waiting for his other artists to show up, Owen figured he might as well do inventory, get the numbers ready
for restocking ink as well as any miscellaneous supplies that the shop would need, like paper towels and cleaning solution.
Once Derek—Owen’s second-in-command—showed up, he left the meeting with the security company to him, trusting Derek to handle
the issue. Normally, he would’ve hovered around the shop, finding something else to do even though he had no appointments
scheduled for the day, but Derek wasn’t hearing any of it, pushing Owen out the door and promising that he could deal with
everything himself.
On the way back home, just as it was pulling away from the stop, the bus Owen was on broke down, the passengers ordered to get off and wait for the next one, which was late.
By the time he got home and finally had the chance to shower, Owen went from having the entire day to get ready for Jacob’s party to just a few hours.
“Mommy, what’s a credit line?” Pari asks, looking up at her mom.
“Please don’t teach my daughter about finances yet, she’s four.”
“Might as well learn young,” Kevin adds. “Have you gotten her 401(k) started yet?”
“What’s a 401(k)?” Pari asks, genuinely curious.
“Something that I’m going to let your father teach you about,” Owen hears Hailey whisper under her breath.
His phone lights up again, another text from Kaitlyn.
Kaitlyn: we’re outsideeee!!!!!!
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit! They’re here!” Owen almost sprints out of the kitchen, turning the lights off behind him.
“Uncle Owen just cussed a lot . . .” Pari adds helpfully as she’s hoisted into the air by her mother.
“Where are we hiding?” Kevin asks, rushing after Owen.
“Behind the couch!” Owen points. It’s the only spot that makes any sense.
“We’ve got to get better at coordinating,” Hailey says under her breath, shooting a glare at Owen when he shushes her.
Fitzwilliam soon joins them, ecstatic that people are down on his level.
They hear the jingling of keys on the other side of the door, then the deadbolt clicks, and the door swings open.
They listen to footsteps, shoes being kicked off, and then Kevin reaches for the floor switch of the lamp, all of them jumping out at once and shouting in unison.
“Surprise!”
Pari throws her arms out wide, nearly hitting Owen in the face. And Kevin stumbles forward, stepping on Fitzwilliam, who yelps
and sprints into the bedroom.
“Oh!” Ravi stares at the four of them, barely balancing the bags of food in his arms. “Sorry, guys, I guess I should’ve called
you . . .”
Hailey shakes her head as she races to help grab the food from Ravi.
Then Kaitlyn and Abigail come in behind him.
“What’s the front door doing open?” Kaitlyn asks, standing with her hands out like she’s confused. “Owen? Why are the lights
on? Didn’t you get my text?”
“Our lines sort of got crossed,” Owen tells her as she follows Kevin into the kitchen. Then Owen sees him, pulling his roller
suitcase behind him with one hand, his niece Poppy held in the other. Her tiny hands are tangled in Jacob’s beard. Owen doesn’t
want to make a big deal out of him being here again; he wants to act normal, be nonchalant. But there’s no denying the fluttering
in his heart, that floating underneath his feet that he feels whenever he sees Jacob again.
“Yeah, I know,” Jacob replies to a question Poppy asked that Owen didn’t hear. “I need to trim it. I got lazy.”
“It’s itchy,” Poppy tells him.
“I’ll say.” Owen smiles at him, helping to take the bag hanging off Jacob’s shoulder.
Jacob can’t quite turn to face him, but his eyes meet Owen’s, shining so bright. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“All right, missy.” Kaitlyn gets her hands under her daughter’s armpits, scooping her up. “That’s enough harassing your uncle.”
As soon as Poppy’s on her own two feet, she joins Pari in playing with Fitzwilliam, giving the poor cat some much-needed cardio.
“How’s it looking in here?” Kaitlyn asks, stopping to kiss Owen’s cheek.
“Good. Kevin was setting the table before everyone pulled in.”
“Okay—let me go get Poppy changed and we can sit down,” she assures him. Kaitlyn ducks out as quickly as she appeared. And
suddenly, it’s just the two of them. Owen and Jacob, left to hover there in the doorway.
“Is this all you brought?” Owen asks him, readjusting the bag on his shoulder.
“Yeah.” He reaches to take it back, but Owen resists. “The rest of my stuff is in a bunch of boxes in Ohio last I checked.”
Then Jacob starts to sniff the air, his smile growing wider.
“Cobbler?”
Owen nods. “Your favorite.”
One might think that Owen hadn’t seen him just seven months ago, when he’d spent two whole weeks in Sweden with Jacob.
But seven months feels like a lifetime, and the hundreds of FaceTimes since have only done so much for Owen’s longing.
He can see every detail of Jacob’s handsome face that he failed to memorize the last time he was with Jacob in person, the few extra gray hairs that have sprouted in his beard, the way his smile lines have gotten just a bit deeper around his mouth and eyes.
Beautiful, he thinks.
“How was the flight?” Owen asks.
“Fine, mostly.” Jacob does a few half-squats. “My knees are still numb.”
“You’re getting old, Morrison.” Owen leans in, daring to give Jacob a kiss on the cheek, drinking in the way he blushes. “How’s
it feel?”
He scoffs at Owen. “Age is just a number, Henson.”
“And yours is geriatric.” Owen pulls away, walking backward so that he can keep all of his focus on Jacob.
“Only one of us has to use a cane on a regular basis,” he reminds Owen, smirking.
“You’re not funny.” Owen feigns offense. “And it’s not a regular basis.”
“But you still have to use one.”
“Okay, are the two of you done flirting?” Kaitlyn asks as she exits the bathroom, her daughter racing ahead of her to wrap
her arms around Owen’s legs. “I’m starving.”
“Yeah.” Jacob rubs his stomach, beaming at Owen, who reaches down to pick up Poppy. “Let’s eat!”
“Do you need help with anything?” Jacob asks, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed over that broad chest of
his.
Owen doesn’t hold back the laughter when he read the words World’s Greatest Uncle on Jacob’s T-shirt. “Did Kaitlyn buy you that?” he asks, folding up the dishcloth he’d used to wipe down the counter.
“No.” Jacob blushes, his shoulders bunching like he’s embarrassed.
Everyone had called it early tonight. Between Pari having school in the morning, and both Abigail and Kevin having early shifts,
everyone had said good night by ten thirty.
Not that Owen’s really that upset.
That just means he gets Jacob all to himself.
“So . . .” Owen leans against the counter, feeling Fitzwilliam rub himself against his legs. “How’s it feel to be back?”
Jacob steps further into the kitchen. “Not quite real, especially since my things aren’t here yet. I keep reminding myself
that I don’t have to go back.”
That’s right. He doesn’t.
This time, Jacob gets to stay.
“When do you start at the lab?”
“Next Monday, and I pick up the keys to my new place on Thursday.”
“Good.” Owen smiles at him, crossing his arms. “I don’t have to put up with your snoring for too long.”
“I don’t snore anymore!” Jacob protests. “Remember, I got that surgery!” As if to prove a point, Jacob closes one of his nostrils
with his finger, blowing through the other effortlessly.
“Oh, right. How could I forget? You kept texting me about how much pain you were in.” He’d gotten so whiny, always accusing
Owen of ignoring him when he went without replying to Jacob’s texts for longer than an hour or two, never mind the time difference.
“Thanks again for letting me crash here.”
It’s not like he had that many options. Kevin and Owen are the only child-free members of the group left, and Kevin’s still
down in San Jose for his residency. Still, it felt nice that he’d asked Owen first. “Where else were you going to go?” Owen
opens the refrigerator, sliding in the last of the leftovers.
“These are your artists?” Jacob asks, glancing at one of the photos stuck to the fridge door.
“Hmm?” Owen peeks over the door, eyeing the photo of him and his fellow artists at Full Metal lined up in front of the shop.
“Oh yeah! That was our opening day.”
“I want to see the shop tomorrow,” Jacob says, studying the other things that Owen has displayed on the front of the refrigerator.
There are a few more photos from opening day, some of Owen and Jacob in Denmark, Belgium, Scotland. There’s the gang at Dolores
Park for Poppy’s first birthday. A handful of takeout menus, a dry-erase to-do list that Owen hasn’t updated for the week
yet.
“I’ve only got two appointments,” Owen tells him. “I could squeeze in a third, if someone were interested.”
“Oh, really?”
Owen nods. “We can even use numbing cream this time.”
“What about afterward? Tomorrow night?” Jacob asks. “Are you busy then?”
Owen pretends to think, knowing that he has nothing going on. Because he’d already figured he’d be spending it with Jacob.
“Nothing I can think of.”
“Good, wanna get dinner?”
“Dinner . . .” Owen ponders, unable to stop himself from overthinking. Old habits do die hard, after all. “Dinner like just dinner? Or dinner like—”
Thank God Jacob interrupts him. “Dinner like a date, Owen.” Jacob looks right at him, like Owen is the only person who matters.
“I’m asking you out on a date.”
Owen knows he’s smiling like an idiot, but he doesn’t care. He can. “Yes,” he says. “I’d love to.”
“It’s a date.”
“You know . . .” Owen peers around the corner into the living room. “That couch isn’t all that comfortable to sleep on. Believe
me, I’ve done it a few times.” When Jacob had asked him if he could stay at Owen’s apartment for the few days he’d be back
in the city without a place of his own, Owen wondered if it was a good idea. If they were moving too quickly into . . . whatever
it was that their life was going to look like together.
But he’s so grateful that everything feels so normal. Like Jacob never left.
Jacob’s laughter is quiet, shaking his head like he can’t believe Owen is doing this. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean . . .” Owen purses his lips. “It’ll dig right into your back. You’ll probably be hunched over all day tomorrow.”
“Oh, well . . . that’s a shame. I’d hate to take your job away from you.” Jacob follows Owen, stepping into the living room
behind him, turning off the lights in the one-bedroom apartment one by one. “If only there was somewhere else for me to sleep
with such late notice.”
“I meannn . . .” Owen drags out the sound. “If you wanted to . . . the bed is big enough for two people. Just saying.”
“Upgraded from a pull-out, I see?”
Owen arches an eyebrow, pausing in the doorway. “All the way up to a queen. Sleep Number and everything.”
“Wooow.” Jacob whistles. “Fancy.”
Jacob holds his hand out to Owen, and Owen takes it without any hesitation at all, letting Jacob reel him in. “I’m so happy
I’m home,” he says, pulling Owen in by the cheeks, letting his forehead fall against Owen’s.
“Me too.” Owen smiles at him. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”
Jacob presses a tender kiss to Owen’s lips. “Lead the way.”