Page 72 of The Princess

“You could set up a booth here,” he told Nash.

“What for?” Nash replied.

“Your books. You’re a local legend, you know. People would love to see you here with your books all stacked up like trophies.”

“Trophies?” Nash furrowed his brow.

“Yeah, like trophies. Each book is sort of a little victory in itself, you know. So the finished ones are like trophies, I think. What do you get when you win something? A trophy.”

“You can’t win at writing. It’s not a competition.”

Taylor shrugged, unaffected by Nash’s logical argument. “Tell that to all the people who win the Pulitzer or the Nobel Prize for literature.”

Nash nearly choked on his drink. “My books are hardly close to that caliber.”

“That’s not even my point. My point was that people love seeing you at the diner. They get a kick out of knowing you sit there and write your books.”

“And how do you know this?” Nash had trouble wrapping his head around the idea that people knew who he was and cared about where he worked.

“It’s a diner, Nash. It’s gossip central. People think it’s adorable that you sit at the family table in the corner and work while I make their pancakes and shit. It’s romantic as hell and they know it.”

Nash had never thought of it that way before. It was an odd thing for people to be interested in, but people were people and they tended to put importance on the strangest things.

“A booth,” Nash said after a time. “You think people would like it?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“I’ll think about it.” Nash knew that if the idea was still in Taylor’s head next year, Nash would be setting up a booth at the night market just because it would make him happy.

Something else that would make Taylor happy was Damon, and Nash felt his presence before he saw him. Damon strode up and slipped an arm around Taylor’s waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Nash and Damon had never taken Taylor out at the same time to anything that wasn’t a dinner. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to be seen together as a unit; it was just that they all respected their time with each other and didn’t want to intrude on that. But Nash and Damon had hatched this plan weeks ago as soon as it was apparent how excited Taylor was about the night market.

“What are you doing here?” Taylor looked at Damon, his confusion obvious.

“I’m crashing your date,” Damon said before kissing Taylor again. “Don’t worry, Nash and I talked about this awhile back.”

Taylor looked at Nash. “You did?”

“We know we generally do things a little different, but the night market seemed special to you, and we both wanted to share in that.” Nash tugged Taylor closer, pulling him away from Damon. Damon scowled and pretended to pull Taylor back to him.

Taylor’s laughter pealed out and he pulled away from both of them. “I’m not a toy.” Taylor shook his head.

Damon stepped into his space and met Nash’s gaze as he slid his arm around Taylor’s waist. He leaned in close to Taylor and whispered in his ear. “But we love playing with you.”

Taylor’s already pink cheeks darkened into a lovely candy apple red. “Stop that,” he said as he pulled away, not going too far. “You two need to behave.”

Taylor tossed his empty hot chocolate in the trash and returned. He snuggled into Nash’s side and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You’ll have to share me. I’ll finish the walk down with you, and I’ll walk back with Damon, and then we can go somewhere and warm up.” Taylor’s eyes narrowed on Damon, who was staring at something.

“Is that Mickey?” he asked.

“I think so.” Taylor replied, sounding sad. He’d tried hard to befriend Mickey, but the man refused help at every corner. Even though the basement unit was empty and Nash knew Taylor had told him he could stay there as long as he wanted, Mickey had disappeared into the wind again.

“Where did he go?” Taylor scanned the crowd, but there was no sign of him.

Nash felt the light go out of Taylor and he tugged him close, kissing his icy cheek. “We can look for him if you want.”

Taylor shook his head. “I don’t think he wants to be found. I still leave food for him, so I know he’s at least eating. There’s not much else I can do.”

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