Page 48 of Edge

Six months later

Damian

Damian had always lovedEaster. It had been his favourite holiday since he was a kid. Therewas something about the season, filled with sunshine and greenery,pinks and whites, and pastel colours everywhere like explosions ofpale rainbows across the city.

There was something aboutthe feel of spring in the air that made women’s dresses shorter,men’s shorts tighter, and t-shirts hug muscles Damian admired fromafar.

Of course, the factEaster was the season for chocolate was a huge benefit too. Damianhad a bit of an obsession with Easter eggs and eating any and allof them. The shiny paper they were wrapped in appealed to hishedonic senses: gleamy silver, gold, and multicoloured treatsglinting in the brightly lit stores. They beckoned to him likejewels for a magpie.

He stood in the aisle atSainsburys, debating which egg to buy Jory. His boyfriend had athing for white chocolate, so he was contemplating a couple ofoptions. He might buy them both to be sure.

He needed to buy one forDave too. The man had a sweet tooth like no other and adoredanything caramel. At The Animus, it was always a little suspectwhen Damian couldn’t find any of the chocolate caramel bars instock and he had a feeling he knew where they weregoing.

Shortages of any sort wasno longer an issue though. The cinema had received an anonymousdonation of a substantial sum in order to renovate and enhancewhatever needed doing.

Both Dave and Damian knewwhere the money had come from, but Jory denied it emphatically.Damian had made sure his wonderfully generous boyfriend got morningblow jobs for a month as a thank you. Dave had wryly said he drewthe line at that one, but he had placed a beautiful brass plaque inthe entrance with a tribute to their “anonymousbenefactor.”

Jory looked proud of itevery time he saw it even though he took great pains to pretend hewasn’t looking. Both Damian and Dave rolled their eyes at eachother and let it pass.

When his phone rang, hewas in the checkout line with about a dozen Easter eggs in histrolley, one for everyone he knew. And two for Jory. He nodded tothe cashier to keep ringing them up and checked his phone. It wasJory. “Hi, baby, I’m paying for my stuff at the shop then I’ll behome. Everything okay?”

Jory sounded distractedwhen he replied. “I think so. I wanted to check how long you’dbe.”

Damian’s sense of“something’s happened” lit up like a slot machine on a winningstreak. “Uh, I’m sensing you have something to tell me. What’shappened?”

There was a pregnantpause, then Jory sighed. “I got a package today from someone Inever expected to. I’m scared to open it, so I was waiting for youto come home.”

Damian frowned as he paidthe cashier, nodded his thanks, and picked up his carrier bagstuffed with Easter goodies. “Who’s it from then?”

“Roger’smother in Wales. I know the address. He used to send her gifts andstuff all the time.”

Damian’s mouth droppedover. “His mother? How does she even know you? Have you evermet?”

“Never. Ispoke to her often when she called the landline for Roger, and wechatted. Sounds like a nice old bird, but we never met. Not evenwhen I was younger.”

Damian left the shop andheaded for the tube. “Okay, well I’ll be about twenty minutes. Holdon ’til I get home and we’ll open it together.”

“Will do.”Jory sounded relieved. “Oh, and Damey?”

“Yeah?” Damianreached the platform and looked up at the board.The next train is three minutes.

“I love you.Hurry home.” The phone disconnected.

Damian never grew tiredof hearing those words. I. Love. You. He’d even managed to say themback, watching Jory’s face light up. Such simple words, meaning somuch.

The whole tube ride homehad Damian thinking what Roger’s mother could’ve sent Jory. Damianhad moved in with Jory and they lived in the same apartment Joryhad shared with Roger, which was a boon. Had they moved into a newplace as they’d intended, the package would’ve been returned tosender.

Both Damian and Jory hadremoved all traces of Roger from the flat, bought new furniture,drapes, lamps, and linens, and put their stamp on the place. Theonly thing Jory had kept was the painting Damian had admired whenhe’d first visited the flat—the Richard Wallace angelpainting.

The last six months hadbeen filled with sorting out all the legal papers related to theproperty and its related expenses. To be fair, Roger had beenorganised and it hadn’t taken long to get everything changed toJory’s name.

With the market being theway it was, it had made sense to them both to wait for the flat toacquire more equity in it before putting it on the market. Jory hadbeen most pragmatic about making his money work for him, now thathe had control of it. He’d turned twenty-five at the start of Apriland gained access to his trust fund.

Stone Edge was still indemand and being asked to tour not only the UK but abroad. Theirpopularity was gaining in Europe and even in Japan.

Life was good foreveryone, and Damian could only hope whatever was in the packagefrom Roger’s mother wouldn’t turn their newfound equilibrium into aswirling mess.

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