XOXO: A Bundle of Cozy Novellas

Edmund

EDMUND

Edmund wasn’t sure how much more holiday cheer he could stand. After Owen stayed over Monday night, he’d insisted on staying at his own apartment the rest of the week. Edmund was miserable. Apparently having Owen in his bed five nights in a row had meant his body wanted Owen there always. It was odd how he’d never truly minded being alone before Owen—his bed hadn’t seemed empty. It had been a week for the two of them, and Edmund wished it weren’t too soon to ask Owen to move in. His house, which had never felt too big before, now was cavernous—waiting, it felt like to Edmund, for the sound of Owen’s laughter or merely the warmth of his presence.

The Canopus holiday party was set to begin at seven that evening, the invitation boasted there would be a full buffet and bar, along with live music. Owen had been at the venue since early that morning; he’d texted Edmund at seven a.m. saying he was up and heading over to make sure the decorations were perfect.

Had he had breakfast, or even coffee? Edmund had seen Owen’s kitchen. He doubted Owen set foot in it if he didn’t have to. The thought that Owen might need something set Edmund to worrying. He headed upstairs to his bedroom and dug through his dresser drawers. He found a decent pair of dark trousers and tugged on the same boots he’d worn last weekend—he was so glad he’d bought them years ago. Then he discovered a forgotten jumper in the back of his closet with thin black-and-white stripes on it and pulled it on over his head. He glanced quickly at himself in the mirror hanging on his closet door, deciding he looked acceptable enough.

Back downstairs, he grabbed his car keys out of the little dish on the kitchen counter, put on his coat, and left the house. His first stop was at one of the drive-thru coffee stops Skagit seemed to have on every block. He ordered two large espressos, then added a couple of raisin scones to his order.

In the parking lot of the restaurant, Edmund hesitated. What if he was doing exactly what Andy Dunn had been doing? Making unwanted advances, not hearing no when Owen said it. Although that seemed ridiculous considering how much time they’d spent together. As he sat there, frozen, the side door he was parked in front of opened.

Owen waited in the doorway, a big grin on his face, and Edmund’s worries faded away. Surely Owen wouldn’t be smiling if he wasn’t happy to see him. He looked tired, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t been sleeping well, either. Edmund grinned back and waved, picking up the to-go cups of coffee so Owen could see them. Owen crooked his head, beckoning Edmund inside.

“You’re something else. What are you doing here this early, you blessed man? And you brought me coffee? I am in heaven.”

Edmund handed Owen one of the cups and waved the bag of pastries. “This is okay, then? I’m not imposing?”

“I can’t decide if I want to kiss you or have a sip of coffee—decisions, decisions. The stuff they have here is shit. Still, I think I want to kiss you first.”

Then, right there in the doorway of the Waterline, Owen leaned in and kissed Edmund. Edmund had missed Owen. Seeing him in person and then having his soft lips against his own after four whole days of torture was exhilarating.

Owen broke off the kiss, saying, “Come on in.”

The Waterline resided on the bottom floor of a historic warehouse. The warehouse had served incoming ships up until the end of the 1940s, so for convenience it was located at the end of a huge pier. The view looked westward toward the Olympic Mountains, and it was a favorite stop for locals and tourists. Jude must have paid a pretty penny to get the place for Canopus ten days before Christmas.

Edmund followed Owen through the doorway to the main dining area, which was a large open space with a bank of windows looking out over the bay. The dining tables had been moved to one side and long tables for the buffet set to another side. In one corner, away from the windows, was what looked like a stage with a dance floor in front of it. He wondered if Owen danced, if Owen would dance with Edmund.

“They haven’t started decorating yet,” Owen said, answering another of Edmund’s questions. “They better get here soon, though, or I’m going to the dollar store and we’re going to have a margarita Christmas or whatever other off-season shit they have in stock.” He was bouncing up and down on his toes. For looking as tired as he did, Owen seemed to have an awful lot of energy.

“Have a sip of your espresso and relax. It’s what?”—Edmund looked at his watch—“Ten-thirty, just after. What time were the decorators supposed to be here?”

“Noon,” Owen said with a completely straight face.

“Noon?” Edmund repeated. “Then why do you have your panties in a wad?”

“Because,” Owen whispered, even though as far as Edmund could tell, they were the only ones there, “everything must be absolutely perfect. If anything goes wrong, it will be entirely my fault. If there is a single figurative hair out of place, it’s on me.”

“Owen?” Edmund stopped Owen’s bouncing with a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah? What?”

“How much sleep have you had since Monday?”

Owen looked startled at Edmund’s question. “Um, I dunno. Why? Not a lot, I guess. I’m so glad you brought coffee; did I say that already? Thank you. You are amazing.” He took a big sip of his drink and groaned appreciatively, his eyes half shut in pleasure. The only other time Edmund had seen that expression was when they were in bed.

Edmund asked, “Do you have to be here while they decorate?”

“I’m not required to be, no, they have pretty specific instructions, but like I said, everything?—”

“Everything has to be perfect,” Edmund agreed, deciding to try another tack. It was clear, to him anyway, that Owen needed to let the decorators do their thing and he needed a shower and some rest. Edmund was just the man to help Owen out. Dirty tactics would be employed, but somebody had to intervene.

He wrinkled his nose. “Did you have time for a shower this morning? Are you going to have time to go home and change—and take a shower?” He suspected Owen had brought his evening clothes with him, planning to change at the restaurant.

Owen peered at him, his eyes wide, before lifting an arm to sniff his armpit. “Do I smell? Oh, my god, I do smell. I brought my clothes.” He waved toward a clothes bag hanging on one of the dining chairs. “I thought I’d change after I help the decorators.”

Edmund thought perhaps he shouldn’t have brought Owen coffee. His words were spilling out so fast they were tripping over themselves. Bad coffee or not, Owen had enough caffeine in his system to power one of the boats docked in the marina adjacent to the pier.

“But you don’t have to help them. They already have a plan, one you’ve gone over with them, right? Come home with me and take a shower, let me feed you lunch, and then, together, we’ll come back early enough so you can check on everything. The party starts at seven. If we’re back by five, you can still sort things out if needed. I imagine they also have your mobile number in case they need you?”

“Um, yeah, okay, a shower does sound good. Maybe I’m a little more stressed out than I thought.” He rolled his shoulders, and all sorts of joints popped and snapped.

You think?

Edmund kept that thought to himself. After making a quick detour to grab Owen’s clothes bag, he guided him out of the restaurant and to his waiting car.