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“Me, too.” Dave yawned. “I’ll get up with you.”
After they’d each used the bathroom and dressed in house pants and t-shirts, they scrounged up some leftovers in the fridge, and Dave opened a bottle of pinot noir as they took turns heating up plates of food in the microwave. When they were seated at the small table in a corner of the kitchen, they heard a ping from the living room.
“Is that your phone?” Dave asked, surprised Oliver didn’t have it on the table beside him like usual.
“Oh, yeah.” He dabbed a napkin against his mouth and got up. “I forgot all about it.”
He grabbed his phone and sat again, assuming the familiar position of head bent and fingers poised over the screen. Then his eyes widened and he looked up with a stunned smile.
“It’s a text from Beauchamp.”
“What’s it say?”
Oliver looked back at his phone and read aloud: “Clicks are up already from your site. I read the latest post, too. You should have taken my Screamin’ Sizzler sauce to scare that ghost off! Seriously great post though. Keep up the good work.” Oliver’s smile shone like a spotlight. “He liked it.”
“Of course he did.” Dave held up his wine glass in a toast. “Congratulations, you did it.”
Oliver held up his own glass and clinked it against Dave’s. “We did it.”
They both took drinks and resumed eating, pausing now and again to smile across the table at each other, and Dave thought it was the best damn meal he’d ever had in his entire life.
