Page 54 of Starved

Colin pushed his glasses back up on his nose and turned to look. Tuck and Esme were on their feet, clapping and cheering, and even Spence’s normally stern visage was creased in a grin.

“It’s about time,” Tuck called out.

Esme hurried around the table to wrap her arms around Evan, then Colin. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered in his ear.

He returned the hug and tried not to blush. “Thanks.”

She eased back, beaming. “This calls for more champagne.”

“I’ll get it,” Colin volunteered and slipped away to the kitchen.

He was pulling the stopper out of the bottle when Evan walked in. “You okay?”

“Of course.” He turned, bottle in hand. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know.” Evan’s eyes were quiet, watchful. “You surprised me.”

“By kissing you?”

“In front of everyone, yeah.”

“I’m not trying to hide, Evan.”

A little of the tension flowed out of the set of Evan’s shoulders. “But you’re not comfortable out in the open, either.”

This was the benefit—and the detriment—to dating someone you’d known for fifteen years, Colin realized. The man knew him too well. “Not entirely.”

“You can take your time, you know,” Evan told him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Wanting the connection, Colin reached for his hand. “I know.”

“Good.” Squeezing his hand, Evan smiled.

“Hey you two, what’s taking so long?” Tuck hollered from the living room, and Evan rolled his eyes.

“We better get back out there.”

“Yeah,” Colin agreed, and without thinking, dropped his hand. A flicker of hurt flashed over Evan’s face, a spasm of pain so brief if Colin hadn’t been watching, he would’ve missed it.

Then it was gone, any trace of unhappiness wiped away by Evan’s wide smile. “We’re coming,” he called, and turning away, pushed the swinging door open and walked through.

Colin followed, his heart stuck in his throat. He wanted to apologize, to explain, but he didn’t know how. So he carried the champagne out to the table and poured himself a full glass, hoping that if he drank enough, the right words would come to him.

There’sa fine line betweentipsy enough to speak truths that were otherwise too hard to sayandtoo drunk to speak at all, and unfortunately, Colin crossed that line. When they’d run out of champagne, he’d switched to mixed drinks, and when brunch had turned into a movie marathon, he’d kept drinking.

So instead of apologizing to Evan for hurting his feelings, he fell asleep in the Jeep on the drive home, threw up in his driveway, and had to be helped to bed.

He wasn’t at all surprised to wake before dawn on Monday morning with his mouth tasting like the inside of a dumpster, his head pounding like the entire Detroit Symphony percussion section was inside it, and a note on the nightstand telling him Evan had gone home.

“I’m an ass,” Colin groaned and stumbled his way into the shower.

It didn’t cure his headache or ease the knots in his stomach, but scrubbing the faint smell of vomit from his skin and brushing the dumpster taste out of his mouth made him feel a little better. Then he started a pot of coffee, downed a glass of water and some ibuprofen, and did something he hadn’t done in five years: he rescheduled his client meetings and called in sick to work.

He had some dry toast with the first cup of coffee, and by the time he’d finished the second was feeling marginally human. The headache lingered, but it was down to a dull rumble, and he figured that was as good as it was going to get. Then he got dressed, got in his car, and drove to Dunbar Sports & Outdoors to face the music.

He knew Evan was scheduled to open, and hoped to find him there by himself. But the parking lot was full, and too late he remembered they’d kicked off their Christmas sale over the weekend, their first since Covid. He was half tempted to go back home and spend the rest of the day with his head buried under a pillow, but he forced himself to get out of the car, put on a mask, and walk inside.

It wasn’t as full as the parking lot had led him to believe, but there were still plenty of customers crowding the aisles. He spotted Eddie, Evan’s father, behind the checkout counter ringing up sales with a trio of other cashiers, the beeps and chimes of the registers mingling with the holiday music playing over the speakers.

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