Page 73 of The Lonely Hearts Guide

“I’d like my pet back now,” the Creationist said rather loudly. “I held my part of the bargain, so I want him back.”

Mrs. Peppercorn sighed, then slowly shuffled across the room and grabbed her phone. Tapping the screen, she muttered, “Fine, but as God as my witness, if you try to pull a fast one and overthrow my rule of law, you and I will be having words.” She turned, narrowing her eyes at him. “They will not be kind words, sugar.”

The Creationist simply blinked at her.

Mrs. Peppercorn rolled her eyes and brought the phone to her ear, pointing at her own eyes, then at his, mouthing, “I’m watching you.” Once the call connected, she advised Clarence to send the pet down. Elliot clutched his baby closer, scared this new dog or cat or random animal might attack the small child. He gave the Creationist a frightened look.

“Is your pet safe for Honey to be around?”

The Creationist didn’t answer, just stared at Elliot like he was stupid. Moments later, there were thunderous footsteps stampeding down the stairs leading to the hidden lair. The door swung open, and when Elliot looked behind him, there was no dog or cat to be found—just a man. A tiny little man, perhaps in his forties, dressed in the standard Bountiful Beau uniform; white top, white trousers, white shoes. The man’s jaw wobbled and tears dripped down his cheeks.

“Daddy,” he whispered, and then he lunged, rushing forward and launching himself into the Creationist’s arms, wrapping his legs around his waist. The man sobbed loudly into his neck, the sharp, piercing sounds occasionally peppered with loud whines and whimpers.

“I’ve got you, baby,” the Creationist whispered. “You’re okay. You’re home now, Benito.”

Alexander looked back at Elliot, shrugging. “I guess even the strangest among us deserve a love story for the ages.” Leaning down, he kissed Elliot’s forehead. “How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

Elliot shook his head. “I didn’t feel anything. Actually, I feel better than I have in months.”

“That’s because I cut off the pain receptors from your chest down,” the Creationist interjected.

“Stop talking to them,” the man in his arms whined. “Make them go away. Don’t want to see them. Don’t want you looking at them.”

As the Creationist stroked the man’s back, he looked up at Elliot and Alexander, his face softer than Elliot could ever remember seeing it. “You should be fine to walk now. I’d like you to leave.”

Though his words were blunt, his tone seemed apologetic. Alexander, on the other hand, didn’t seem happy about the request at all.

“He’s just given birth. He needs to rest and recover.”

The Creationist rolled his eyes. “He’s an automaton, Mr. Davenport. If I don’t want him to feel pain, he won’t feel pain. You, on the other hand, are testing my patience, so I can’t say the same for you. Leave. Leave us now.” He glared at Mrs. Peppercorn. “You, too. This is my lab. It’s my space, and you’re no longer welcome in it.”

Mrs. Peppercorn swallowed. “And what will you do now? Kill me in my sleep and overthrow my home for Bountiful Beaus?”

The Creationist groaned. “Obviously, not. As you said, I have a bit of an affinity for these beaus. If you can assure me you’ll stay out of my space and stay in your lane, I’ll stick around.”

After agreeing, Mrs. Peppercorn headed toward the door, and Alexander took Honey so Elliot could stand. To his surprise, when he looked down at his waist, his body was in the same shape it had been before the baby. The twenty pounds he gained during his pregnancy seemed to have melted away.

“What form of sorcery is this?” Elliot demanded.

The Creationist chuckled. “Not sorcery. Science.” Carrying his pet in his arms, he walked to the end of the operating table, reached down into a small bucket on the floor, and pulled out a curved sheet of metal, foggily transparent. “For Honey to fit in there, I had to construct an expanding belly plate to give her room to grow. After delivering her, I removed it and reattached your original abdominal plate.”

Elliot swallowed, feeling a bit squeamish, if he was being honest. When he looked over at Alexander, he was happy to see the man seemed to appreciate the view. His eyes had practically formed hearts for pupils.

“Do I look okay?” Elliot whispered.

Alexander licked his lips. “More than okay. You’re stunning.”

Elliot bit his lip, trying to hold back a prideful smile. “Well, I think you’re rather stunning yourself.”

As Alexander led them upstairs, his hand against the small of Elliot’s back, Elliot couldn’t remember ever feeling as happy as he did at that moment.

Fatherhood suited Elliot Davenport. With one year under his belt, he took to it like a duck to water. Or, maybe more appropriately, like Duck to Goose. As for Elliot, between his three-hour shifts each morning at the bakery and his time spent cuddled close to Alexander at night, Elliot was a model parent. Alexander hadn’t seen a single sparkle of blue light in his husband’s eyes for almost a year. It was alwayspink-pink-pink.

Since arriving on Sugarplum Island, Elliot came alive. He had a job he loved, and a pair of best friends in Duck and Goose. They had weekly book clubs with a few other village residents. Elliot organized community charity events for the island. He even formed a small band of neighborhood watch vigilantes who walked the island one hour each night to ensure the safety and security of the Sugraplumians. Granted, since the island’s creation, there hadn’t been any crime whatsoever, so it was more of a social gathering than anything, but Elliot seemed to enjoy the camaraderie, and Alexander would often travel the small island with them as a show of support.

Alexander was hesitant to relinquish control of his father’s company at first, often working remotely from home, occasionally having to visit the mainland a couple times a week to finalize deals. With Elliot and Honey taking up so much of his time—and heart—he finally decided to let it go. Alexander hadn’t told Elliot yet, but Alexander knew he would be thrilled.

“Alexander?” He turned his head to find Elliot standing over the sofa, looking down at him fondly. “You’ve been staring at the wall for the last ten minutes. I hate to be a bother, but I could use your assistance setting up the party. The guests will arrive in an hour.”

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