20
Linc left early the next morning. He had a short shift at the station, covering for a sick coworker, before he’d meet Avery at the bachelor auction. Avery’s stomach was in knots about it still, but a blow job helped. A lot.
“I’ll see you tonight,” Linc said between kisses.
“But you’ll be there, right? They know you have to leave at five?”
Linc pulled him close, pressing him against the breakfast bar so Avery had no choice but to be surrounded by him. His lover. His boyfriend. God, having this felt so good.
“I’ll be there,” Linc said fiercely into his ear. “Everyone will know who you’re with.”
Avery wriggled in happiness.
So, inevitably, he managed to drop his phone in the toilet.
The dunking wasn’t his fault. Not really. Or, at least, it could have happened to anyone. One second, he was dancing around the bathroom, brushing his teeth and trying to get his hair to lie in the right direction, and the next his hip bumped against the sink. He’d propped his phone on the corner of the vanity, and the bump was enough to tip it over. In slow motion, it clacked onto the fake marble and rattled like a pinball on top of his toilet paper holder before disappearing into the bowl with asploosh.
“Oh, no!” Avery said, dropping his toothbrush and drooling minty foam over his chin. He spat and rinsed, then nearly caught the side of his head on the faucet coming back up, which would have been pointless because he didn’t need to hurry. His phone had already settled to the bottom of the bowl and looked pretty happy to stay there.
“No, no, no.” He bobbed on his toes. His desperation was interrupted only by his disgust at the idea of thrusting his hand into the toilet bowl. When was the last time he’d cleaned it? Even if he retrieved it, would he ever be able to hold it to his face again?
The water was surprisingly cool. He didn’t know why he’d expected it to be warmer. Water dripped from his hand and wrist as he pulled the phone back out and...
The music kept playing, like the impromptu swim break meant nothing.
“Oh, thank God.” He sagged against the towel rack. There didn’t appear to be any damage. His phone was a couple years old, before waterproofing came standard, but maybe he’d finally gotten lucky.
He scrubbed his hands and arms with a lot of soap, then grabbed one of the disinfecting wipes his aunt bought when he moved in to wipe down the phone. The screen flickered briefly, but when he finished, everything flashed back to life. All his apps worked, and when he texted Linc to wish him a good day, the message hovered for only a second before the checkmark popped up to indicate delivery.
Things were turning around.
He brought coffees from the diner for Meredith and himself, with a tea for Uncle Theo because he was trying to cut back on caffeine after breakfast.
“You look happy,” Meredith said, taking her coffee with a smile.
“It’s going to be a good day.” He grinned at her. It was going to be a goodlife. He was certain of this now. Seacroft wasn’t sexy, didn’t have all the things a big city like Atlanta had, but it offered all the most important things Avery needed. Family. Love—he shivered at the word, but he was confident he and Linc were headed there. Someday, there would be respect too. He’d own his own business and be an established part of the community, instead of the flaky, accident-prone gay kid who had arrived in the middle of the night.
When Avery knocked on his office door, Uncle Theo was on the phone, but he motioned for him to come in. He finished his call quickly while Avery set down the tea and settled into one of the seats that Steve and Phil had taken up the previous day.
They sat silently as Uncle Theo sipped at his tea, hissing at the heat and removing the lid from the paper cup.
“So,” he said.
“Yeah.” Avery clasped his hands in his lap.
“I need to apologize.”
He sat up straighter. “What for?”
“Your aunt gave me a good dressing down last night. I told her about our conversation, and she was not impressed.”
He could picture the expression on his aunt’s face. “It’s a pretty fair offer, though.”
Uncle Theo sipped his tea and grimaced. “She said I should have involved you in the conversations from the beginning. That apologizing after everything was settled wasn’t nearly as effective in getting you to help make the decisions as soon as I knew I wanted to sell you the business.”
Aunt Brenda was a very smart lady.
“But I told her you said you needed to think about it anyway. So maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference when I told you. If you think you don’t want to—”
