Page 72 of Sorry, We're Closed

I unplug my phone, seeing message after message which I must have amassed over our night together. Avory’s voice begins to travel to me again, and I struggle not to just run to him, practically begging for his lips on mine again, but I don’t cave. I slide my phone open, finding Gwen, Xander, andherhave messaged.

Gwen:BABE! WHERE ARE YOU? HOW DID IT GO?

Xander:Sawyer, bud! Are you alright? Do you need us to come get you?

Gwen:4 missed calls

Gwen:SAWYER! Are you staying overnight? *Wink wink*

Xander:Please ignore Gwen, just be safe, whatever you do!

Tracey:Come home this instant.

Tracey:Why aren’t you at the shop?

Tracey:You’re late.

Tracey:Sawyer Sombre, get home now.

Even once I’m gone, she expects me to continue to be her loyal dog. I hold her name down, and with a slight hesitation, I delete her messages. That’s for another time.

I reply to Gwen and Xander, letting them know that I’m okay, I’m safe and with Avory, and I shove my phone into his hoodie pocket before I can read their replies.

My hand grasps the door handle, lingering for a moment as I realise how surreal everything has become in an instant, before opening the door and being met with a beautiful sight. Avory, in his joggers and a black t-shirt, sits on a stool by their kitchen island, leaning on his palm and stirring a mug of something. His curls and waves, looping themselves around each other as the length taunts the neck of his shirt and I’ll never believe how gorgeous he is.

Marcus potters around the kitchen, multiple frying pans on the stove as golden, seeded bagel halves fly upwards from the toaster. He has a couple of inches on Avory, but his build is undeniably bigger. Broad shoulders, defined pecs which his shirt plunges into, a slightly tanned complexion and thick black and silver stubble, which matches his quiff perfectly. Even when you know that they aren’t father and son, and even when they look so different to each other, they somehow look so similar, like two puzzle pieces which you never thought would click together, yet it all makes sense when they do.

“Hey A, are you finished stirring my coffee?”

Avory nods, sliding the mug across the island which Marcus then scoops up through the handle and swigs. His face immediately scrunches up as he struggles to swallow his mouthful.

“Goddamn sachets. That tastes like crap!”

“That’s because you’ve probably burnt it!” My voice creeps past my lips at a volume I’m not used to and before I can even process that I have spoken, he’s looking at me.

“Good morning, beautiful!”

Avory’s smile grows wide as he pulls the stool out next to him. I plant myself on the leather seat as Avory’s turns my jaw to face him, kissing me quickly before Marcus’ throaty grunt interrupts us. I laugh quietly into his sleeves as Marcus’ eyebrows raise, his eyes darting between myself and Avory.

“Oh right, I have some explaining to do.”

Avory’s hand slides over and rests on my thigh, his thumb rubbing circles as Marcus turns to me.

“Sawyer, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Marcus scoffs into his burnt coffee as I speak, and I instantly wonder about everything I could’ve done wrong in a matter of seconds.

“Just Marcus, will do! Come here!”

Marcus practically dances around the island as he approaches my stool and wraps his bulging arms around me. He radiates warmth and spicy cologne, similar to Avory, and I find myself sinking into his hug as Avory attempts to push him off. His hands remain on my shoulders as he speaks with such a joyful tone.

“Now, are you some sort of mage? Wizard? Because I never, in all the years I’ve been with my lad, imagined him having someone like you in his life. Avory, can I say it?”

He peers over my shoulders and Avory has his head in his hands, and his voice muffles into his palms.

“You’re going to, anyways!”

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