Page 44 of Cosy & Chill
Ruminations
Leo closed his bedroom door and crossed to the corner where his sleeping bag rested on top of the airbed. It was comfortable to sleep on and meant they could postpone buying proper beds until they’d worked out what else they needed. He zipped himself into the bag and snuggled down, remembering the last time he’d been horizontal.
Cuddling on the couch with Finn had made him realise how much he’d lacked true companionship since his grandma had died.
He remembered how prickly and standoffish he’d been when he’d gone to live with her—not believing that she’d be any different from the man she’d raised. Her constant presence and the mix of compassion and encouragement had changed him. He couldn’t face returning to his family after her death—never mind that she’d made it all but impossible by revealing he was gay. A year later he was still dealing with the fallout and—
“Don’t go there,” he muttered, hugging himself. “Just… don’t…”
His thoughts circled aimlessly, too wound up to settle. In the end, he made himself remember the feel of Finn’s lean body tangling with his and Finn’s warmth seeping into his eternally cold limbs.
It was the price he paid for selling ice cream at the market: aching legs, a sore back, and freezing hands and feet whatever the time of day or the season. At least, that was what all the other traders kept telling him. Along with recommending a hot bath, a tot of rum, and a comfy sofa to collapse onto at the end of the day.
He’d only had a shower, and no sofa in his bedsit. Now he had both, and he was looking forward to a soak in the extravagant bathroom that connected his bedroom to Finn’s. The tub was vast, long enough that he could stretch out and float. It made the prospect of a freezing day at the market… not appealing, perhaps, but acceptable. As did the fact that he’d be coming home to Finn. He’d have a chance to talk about his day, share stories, or bitch about things gone wrong. After a year living alone, it seemed miraculous.
Not to mention that Finn needed looking after. Any man who got up early every morning despite having worked until long after midnight needed looking after. His grandma would have told him that right away.
Even with the little he’d learned, Leo’s heart ached for Finn. For four years, Finn had made the best of a tough situation. He’d concentrated on doing what he loved and tuned out what he couldn’t change.
He hadn’t stopped once they’d signed the rental agreement for Cosy & Chill either. Finn was busy. Productive. Industrious. He knitted, shipped orders, and found time to dust and polish, stock the shelves and write neat little price labels. His side of the store was really beginning to look like one.
What had Leo done so far?
Manned his stall at the market, tried to drum up new business, contributed a sofa and two armchairs.
It seemed extraordinarily little by comparison.
Not that a full-time ice cream business was a stupid idea. People ate ice cream all year round. He just needed to find a way to reach them. His Google page had positive reviews, as did his website and his listing on the website of the local market.
People loved his ice cream, he reminded himself, and he would find a way to sell it.
While business was slow, though, could he do something to help Finn? Help them? Help Cosy & Chill?
His mind buzzed with ideas, and some of them stung like a swarm of angry hornets. What if Finn thought Leo wasn’t pulling his weight? What if he preferred a different business partner? Or no business partner at all?
Renting the store and sharing a business with Finn had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. An exciting idea that he’d surfed like a glittering wave. He was an ideas person, and follow-through wasn’t always easy for him. Leo knew that about himself, but he had started Chill and had been earning good money from his ice cream endeavours. What had he done at the beginning of the year that he could do now to make a difference?
He stared wide-eyed into the darkness until it occurred to him.
He had spent a long weekend listing all the tasks that needed to be completed to start his business.
Then he’d arranged and rearranged them all.
The following Monday morning he’d plastered the list to the back of his door and had started to tick the tasks off one by one. He’d worked doggedly, forcing himself not to look sideways until he’d opened his stall at the local market for the first time.
Inspired, Leo turned on the light, found a pad and a pen, and settled back into his sleeping bag. First, he needed a list of all the tasks. Then he could arrange them to best effect. And then… then he’d knock them out one by one until Cosy & Chill was open and customers came through the door.
He started scribbling at a rate of knots, thinking about all the things he could do to help their business: take a barista course, buy coffee-making equipment, sort out signage, business cards and flyers, talk to the graphic designers about the store logo, create social media accounts and a promotion strategy.
He could help Finn wrap his parcels and take them to the post office—not just once, but every day. They needed to order cutlery, mugs, plates, coffee cups and ice cream dishes for the café side of the business, and maybe even extra ones with the Cosy & Chill logo for customers to buy. He imagined menus, price lists, gift cards, recipe books, yarn bundles… small streams of income that would come together to form a river.
He wrote and wrote and wrote, becoming increasingly aware that they were doing this backwards. They should have thought about all these things before he went to enquire about the rent for the place, and instead they’d been swept away by their excitement.
When he finally ran out of words, his brain was empty of ideas and exhaustion filled the space. Yes, they should have thought of all these things in more detail than they had while sharing a couple of beers in the Crown & Anchor. But they were here now and they would make it work. He just needed to believe it.
Leo set the notepad beside the air mattress and turned out the light. He was asleep moments later.
The smell of sizzling bacon drew Finn from his sleeping bag and down to the kitchen. Leo was at the stove, cooking eggs in one pan and keeping an eye on the rashers in the other, while the coffee machine burbled at the end of the counter. Finn went over and filled two mugs, needing a kick-start after too few hours of sleep. It was early to be up on a Sunday morning, just after eight, but they had lots to do, and he liked that Leo was on the same wavelength when it would be so easy to lounge in bed all day and—
