Chapter Seven
Right as he put a pot of water on the stove, Flynn’s buzzer rang.
Who the hell would be dropping by at this time of night? He wasn’t expecting Callie, and there wasn’t really anyone else who’d just come over without Flynn asking them to…
“Hello?” he asked into the intercom, worrying for a moment that it might be Aiden back in town and looking for a place to stay.
“Is this a bad time?” Zach’s voice answered. “Because I can go.”
“No,” Flynn responded immediately, hitting the button to let him in. “No, not at all. Come on up.”
Zach dropping by was absolutely fine by him, and he’d been sincere when he made said he could come by any time. Flynn liked having guests over. The problem was that he didn’t have a whole lot of close friends. Plenty of vague acquaintances, but for a long time it’d only been Callie.
Now, he had Zach. Or at least, hekindof did.
He wasn’t entirely sure what his and Zach’s relationship was going to be like, yet. They barely knew each other.
Flynnlikedhim, though. He wanted to be Zach’s friend, based on everything he’d seen of him so far. He was sweet, and talented, and funny once he got over being nervous. It was nice to have him around.
Selfishly, Flynn was glad to have him in his life. It was a shame that it had to happen the way it had, but… he didn’t exactly regret any of this. He hadn’t had a friend like Zach in a while. Callie had her own life now, and a baby, and a long-term girlfriend, and while Flynn knew he was always welcome, he felt a little like an outsider.
Zach didn’t seem to have anyone much. And neither did he. So now they had each other.
Flynn unlocked the door and headed back to the kitchen to keep working on dinner.
He heard Zach knock a moment later, and called out that the door was open while he sorted through the fridge to find the fresh basil Callie had given him from her new herb garden, which was her latest project.
Flynn was encouraging it, because it meant he got free fresh herbs to cook with. That felt like a luxury.
Maybe he could commission Zach to make him a couple of pots for the window sill, and then he and Callie couldtradeherbs. That would have been cool.
The door opened and then closed again, and Zach’s footsteps told Flynn that he was hovering near it.
“I’m in the kitchen,” he called again, retrieving the basil and setting it out on the counter to rinse before he chopped it.
Zach came around the corner carrying a heavy-looking backpack, his hair ruffled and more than one spot of what Flynn had to assume was dried clay on his t-shirt and face. “I didn’t mean to interrupt dinner. I was just… hoping that offer to sleep on the couch was still open?”
“Of course,” Flynn said automatically. “Yeah, obviously. I’ll throw some extra pasta in the pot.”
Zach’s eyes widened. “You really don’t have to cook for me. I was going to offer to buy you dinner in exchange.”
Flynn shook his head. “You don’t need to do anything in exchange. We’re married.” He smiled a small, genuine smile. “It’s only pasta. Takes zero effort to make twice as much, and I’m not great at judging how much is enough anyway so I was probably already making atleastenough for two.”
Zach chuckled. “Pasta I can mostly judge. Rice, though? Rice is a mystery to me, I can only make enough to feed ten people no matter how much I actually make.”
“It’s half a cup per person as a side or a full cup if it’s most of the dish,” Flynn said. “At least, that’s what Callie told me. I mostly buy the instant stuff you just throw in the microwave. Please don’t tell her.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Zach promised.
“Make yourself at home,” Flynn said belatedly, realizing that apparently, it needed saying. “Take a load off, tell me about your day.”
He was glad of the company, honestly, now that he knew it wasn’t Aiden. He’d gotten into a strange, simmering argument with a client about what was and was not ethical design, and his stomach still felt tight over it, and he was glad to be done for the day.
He was evenmoreglad to have a distraction.
“Not a whole lot to tell. I had two classes today plus some studio time in between, which is, uh… why I’m covered in clay, sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I’m only not in sweatpants because I went to work at the café today,” Flynn said. “We don’t dress up in this house.”
