An Extra Pump of Sugar

Chapter 28

We enjoyed two weeks of sunshine and blooming fruit trees before an April storm rolled in. The cold spell blew in over the Sierras, freezing every apple blossom that dared to flower, halting any colorful transitions, and stunting the growth of all seedlings.

But the weather wasn't the only thing to see abrupt and sudden change.

Ian flew into Reno last week, leaving his home, his job, and his life back in New Zealand in order to spend some quality time with his father. And even though my uncle would never admit it, I could tell he was relieved to have a familiar face around, someone willing to fill the empty spaces I couldn't. Plus, there was something incredibly wholesome about a child taking on a caretaking role in his parent's final stage of life. Something sweet about a son choosing to pay forward the love and compassion that was bestowed upon him as an infant. It was a bittersweet cycle, and one that felt intrinsic to the human experience.

Meanwhile, my grandparents had given up fighting Jay on his decision, and they'd visited his apartment multiple times with an assortment of baked goods.  And sure, they forced the man to sit and pray with them every time—for only god knows how long—but he seemed to look upon the coping mechanism with more kindness than before, like he knew it was all he could do to ease their pain.

My mother was still too angry with him to drop by, but she made a point of sending him checks to help pay for at-home hospice care. And miraculously, Jay accepted her payments, which was about as close to reconciliation as the two could get.

As for Theo and me...nothing about our arrangement had really changed, but something had clearly shifted between us. For one, the sex was better than ever, impossibly, and declaring an action 'overkill' felt like a foreign concept to me now.

But more importantly, I no longer felt the need to cling so tightly to him and his world, afraid he might grow sick of me overnight. His vow to stick by my side had eradicated the last of my resistance, the last of my reservations, and suddenly, exploring this gooey feeling inside didn't seem so scary.

It was like Vegas had crushed the wall that prevented this relationship from evolving, and since then, neither one of us had made any effort to rebuild it. We'd agreed to let this progress, naturally, without a contract renewal.

Not that we'd communicated any of that, of course—which Baker thought was a shitty choice on my part. But I felt safe in this decision, in this laissez-faire approach.

I felt safe with Theo.

We spent most of our evenings together now, after work or before our shifts. Sometimes we just studied together in companionable silence, and other times we jumped straight into bed, overcome with the need to be closer. But no matter what, we always managed to fit in a well-rounded meal together, and I was pretty sure I had Theo to blame for the six pounds I'd put on this month.

This Sunday, we lay half-naked in Theo's bed while the world frosted over. He sat against the concrete wall with his guitar in his hands, gently fingerpicking his way through a Led Zeppelin song—and ignoring his incomplete thesis—while I played around with my camera settings and snapped a few inconspicuous photos of his bare chest.

I mean, how could I not capture the gray light streaming in through the windows and splashing his clavicle? That dark, fluffy hair shading his eyes? He was breathtaking.

He grinned at the lens. "I thought your portfolio theme was misconceptions..."

I lowered the camera, smiling back at him. "Who says my barista can't be my muse?"

"Your barista, huh?"

I shrugged, ignoring his adorable lip-bite. "Besides. You're not exactly an open book."