Page 9

9

ADAIR

P aul is on the phone when I come into the cramped office in the back of Bean-Go after the Monday morning commuter rush. I guess he’s talking to a customer, because he’s got that super-polite voice on. Make that a pissed-off customer, because he’s apologetic, too. He promises them he’ll get their issue taken care of as soon as possible.

The instant he’s off the phone, he huffs out a frustrated sigh and whacks the top of the desk with his hand. “Son-of-a-bitch!”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, it’s —” Paul cuts himself off, runs a hand through his wiry gray waves and blinks at me. “Actually, how are things going up there?” He nods towards the front of the shop.

“Well, I’m back here and Gigi is alone up front, so that should give you a hint,” I say with a grin. “You know she’d kill me if I wandered off when we were slammed.”

Paul laughs a little but he looks distracted as he rubs his chin for a few seconds. “Would you be willing to do me a favor, Addy?”

I shrug. “Sure, what do you need?”

“We had a delivery order this morning, but they arranged the pickup and drop-off through one of the apps, and apparently the driver just canceled on them. And of course, they think that’s our fault.”

“That sucks.” I know Paul hates dealing with the apps and the huge cut they take, but it’s the only way to stay competitive anymore.

“Would you mind running this order to them? It’ll take you most of the morning to get there and back, but just take the rest of the day after that. I’ll mark you down as being here until the usual time.”

This doesn’t sound so bad. “Yeah, no problem. Whatever you need. What am I taking and where am I going?”

Paul looks relieved as he stands up and claps me on the shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver, Addy. It’s just a basic coffee-and-pastries setup for some meeting.”

On the desk, his phone lights up and trills with a call. He turns to look at it. “Ah, it’s the hubs. Sorry, Addy, I gotta take this,” he says before answering with a booming, “Hellooo, handsome!”

I grin to myself as I walk back down the hall. Paul and his husband Neill, collectively, were kind of a lifesaver when I stumbled into this job a year or so after high school. As a queer kid growing up in an area more rural and conservative than not, I never personally knew a regular, happily-married gay couple.

It was an eye-opener. It reassured me that I, too, could be regular someday. It gave me hope that I could maybe one day meet a guy I could fall in love, settle down, bicker and be affectionate with. I wanted to have that verbal shorthand that couples who are on the same wavelength seem to acquire effortlessly. I’d seen husbands and wives with that kind of dynamic, but before I became Paul’s employee, I’d never seen husbands and husbands like that.

It was a huge fucking relief.

I go to the little delivery area off to the side of the shop. There’s a few coffee containers, a few trays of donuts and whatnot, plus a paper grocery bag with cups and condiments. Piece of cake.

I pull out my keys and load up my arms with the pastry trays as Paul comes over, still on the phone.

“I’ll be right back for the coffee boxes. Where am I taking this stuff?” I ask.

“One sec, sweetie,” he says into the phone, before tipping the speaker away from his mouth to address me. “Up to the state park nature center. You know the place?”

I damn near drop the trays. I’ve spent all morning thinking about Jack’s promise to meet me tonight while also trying not to pop a boner right at the espresso maker.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”