The Stars Over Bittergate Bay

Chapter 11

11

I nviting Sidney to stay had felt, at first, like a dangerous breach of Jonas’s ‘no humans’ rule.

But Sidney needed help. And it was help Jonas was able to give with only the most minor of inconveniences. Sidney didn’t know that Jonas was a demon. Didn’t know that he could have asked for so much more. And if Jonas had sent Sidney away without letting him use the library and telescope, Karolina would have given him an earful.

Jonas was going to have to offer to move the telescope down to the garden, though. And that would be an inconvenience, even if it was the only tenable option.

Yes, Sidney was as quiet as a mouse, stargazing on Jonas’s balcony with nothing but an old oil lamp to make his notes by. But there was something about knowing he was out there, right outside the door, that made it impossible for Jonas to fall asleep.

When Sidney crept back inside an hour before dawn, his lamplight was so low it looked as though he was a single ember floating across the room. Only after Sidney gently closed the bedroom door was Jonas finally able to turn over and get some rest.

This was why he slept so late. He was, after all, a man of his habits, and he was very irritated to find he had woken up at half past noon. He staggered down the stairs, wrapping his dressing gown around his waist, brushing his hair back from his forehead. There were sounds and smells coming from the kitchen, warm and spicy things, music and singing, that had been foreign in the garden cottage for as long as Jonas had lived there.

In the kitchen, Sidney was staring down at a mixing bowl as he sipped from a tall glass of milky coffee over ice. A radio was on, a songstress trilling some slow jazz standard, and Sidney hummed along as he put his glass down. Jonas hadn’t remembered he had a radio. Sidney bent over, digging in the cabinet below the counter, his white button-down loose without the sweater to tame it, draped over the knots of his vertebrae, and Jonas immediately forgot, again, about the radio.

It was very much as though he had woken up late and walked into a dream; a life that was not his own, but where he could have lived. There was a version of this early afternoon where he walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Sidney’s narrow waist, kissed the back of his neck. Whatever cinnamon and honey sweet batter was in Sidney’s mixing bowl could be moved aside in favor of pressing Sidney’s hips back against the counter and getting to his knees again.

Gods. He’d gone insane. Seeing Sidney’s fingers clenched in his bedspread the day before had made him go insane.

Sidney pulled a loaf pan out of the cabinet, set it down on the counter and paused to look out the window, where Bittergate Bay sloshed merrily in the distance. The sky was grey and promised rain again.

“Is there any more coffee?” Jonas grumbled coming into the kitchen proper. Sidney didn’t startle, but he did turn around quickly, as though he was surprised to see Jonas in his own house. There was a dish towel tucked in his belt and his shirt hung open, buttons undone to the center of his chest. Jonas was salivating and chalked it up to the smell of the cake. Or the coffee.

“Plenty of coffee,” Sidney said. “I’m used to making a full pot for the whole house, so there’s loads extra. Do you prefer hot or iced?”

“I’ve never had it iced,” Jonas said. Sidney rolled his eyes and handed his own glass across the counter and Jonas sipped at it tentatively. It was more than just milky. There was vanilla in it and something sweeter. It was delicious. “How many people do you live with?” Jonas asked.

“Twenty-three residents. And they all drink coffee.”

“Residents?” Jonas asked. Sidney nodded, grabbing up the spoon and stirring the batter again.

“Yes, I’m the faculty advisor for a student residency on campus. Primarily members of the football team, but there are a few who aren’t sportsmen.” Jonas had a vision of Sidney standing in a kitchen surrounded by twenty-three strapping college-aged sportsmen. He nearly choked and took a large gulp of sweet coffee as he composed himself.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Sidney nodded toward the glass in Jonas’s hand. “You finish that one. I’ll make another in a minute. Just need to get this bread in the oven.” He set down his spoon and grabbed a stick of butter, greasing the pan. Jonas looked at the ingredients spread out over the counter.

“Did we have all these things in the house?” Jonas asked.

“No,” Sidney shook his head, smiling as he set the butter to the side and wrestled the oversized mixing bowl into a better position for pouring. “A delivery came up to Elmmond House this morning and I borrowed a few things as the grocers were unloading.”

“You stole, you mean?” Sidney shrugged.

“Is it stealing? They didn’t seem to object when I asked for a few things. Who orders the food for that place anyway? I didn’t think anyone lived there.”

“No one lives there,” Jonas said. “But there’s a big party for the Ascension, and it’s been hosted at Elmmond House for years. It would be about now that they’d start to get deliveries for it.”

“Who owns the house?” Sidney asked. Jonas hesitated. But then, what harm could it do?

“I do,” he said. Sidney whipped around to look at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“What? Then why do you live here?”

“I told you the other night. That place is too big for me. And I’ve gotten the cottage just the way I like it.”

“Well, then,” Sidney stalled, and Jonas could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Jonas did regret his Alcott reference from the previous day. Comparing Sidney to a spider might not have been tactful, or accurate, especially coming from Jonas who could afford to staff houses he didn’t even live in. Sidney opened his mouth to speak, but Jonas interrupted.

“People do use it. Not only for parties. It’s become a sort of waypoint.” All of that was true, but it didn’t make Jonas sound any less like a wealthy benefactor. Sidney smirked, apparently untroubled.

“Who plans the Ascension party?”

“There’s a planning committee, I suppose you could call it.”

“And they don’t communicate with you at all?”

“I’m perfectly happy that they don’t. I’m not much of a host, as you well know.”

“Untrue.”

“No need to flatter me, Sidney. I’ve already said you can stay and use my things. What are you making?”

“Honey spice loaf. Calling it a bread would be generous. It’s more like a cake.”

“Where did you learn to bake?”

“My mother and her wife own a dry goods store in the town where they live, but they bake and stock their own loaves and cakes. Before I left for school, I spent most of my time in the kitchen. Or on the roof with a telescope, much to their chagrin.”

“Not thrilled you decided to become an astronomer?” Jonas asked. Sidney laughed.

“I’m not sure they minded that much. Mostly they weren’t pleased that I was climbing out of my third story window every evening.” Sidney deposited the mixing bowl into the sink. “Of course, come the first of the month, we all wish I’d taken on a profession a little more financially hearty. Though my brother Leo’s a lawyer, so he more than makes up the shortfall.” Sidney hesitated for a moment and then scooped the spatula out of the bowl.

Here was the part where Sidney would ask Jonas for money. It was fine, really. He might actually give it to him. Jonas had lived long enough to know that everyone always wanted something. Humans especially.

Except Sidney seemed not to consider it at all. Instead, he licked off a stripe of the white batter, speckled with spices, and then glanced at Jonas.

“Let me guess, you’ve never eaten raw cake batter either?”

“I thought the point of batter was to bake it,” Jonas said. Sidney rolled his eyes and held out the spatula to Jonas.

“I’ve worked out why you’re so sullen,” Sidney said, as Jonas found himself tentatively licking the ginger and honey flavored mixture off the spatula. Delicious, sweet and sharp and then sweet again.

“Am I sullen?” Jonas took another lick. Sidney grinned at him.

“You are a man of very few indulgences.”

“I’m not sure you know enough about me to comment about my indulgences.” Jonas handed the spatula back, watching as Sidney stuck the tip of the spatula into his mouth and sucked the batter off with a sound that made Jonas’s toes curl in his slippers. Indulgences indeed.

“I know you live in a very small cottage when you could live in a rather big house. And I know all you eat is fish stew?—”

“Those were leftovers.”

“And your only regular socialization is with a nineteen-year-old ghost. Did I miss any of your grand indulgences?” Sidney arched an eyebrow. Jonas scoffed.

“I’m indulging a pretty teacher from Holyworth by letting him live in my house and make sweets,” Jonas countered. Sidney licked another stripe off the spatula before tipping it into the sink.

“That’s indulging me. Not an indulgence for yourself.” The entire interaction was proof to the contrary, but saying that aloud felt dangerously like exposing himself, so Jonas stayed silent. Sidney turned toward him and leaned his hip against the sink. A droplet of batter had landed on the center of his chest, and the most indulgent thing Jonas had ever wanted to do was pin Sidney to the counter and lick him clean.

“You’ve got batter on yourself,” Jonas said. Sidney glanced down with a frown.

“Oh,” he said, before swiping his finger up his sternum to collect the batter, and then popping his finger between his pursed lips with a satisfied hum that made Jonas unavoidably aware that he was naked beneath his dressing gown.

“Let me know when the spice loaf is done,” Jonas grunted, taking his iced coffee and withdrawing back upstairs.