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Jocelin squeezes my hand. “Love ’n Cup is one of my favorite spots in the city.”
The name tugs at a memory. “I think Jules comes here a lot.”
He laughs. “We all come here a lot.”
Of course they do. “In my mind, you’re Astrid’s friend. I keep forgetting you’re friends with Erik and that whole group too.”
“Worlds collide.” He smiles and squeezes my hand. “What do you think you’d like to order? It’s my treat. I’m getting an oolong and something from the pastry case, but I need to see what Bill has today before I choose.”
I look at the drink board. “I’ll have an Earl Grey. And show me these pastries.” Jocelin pulls me to the case, and we peer in.
“What’re you in the mood for? Oh hey, Jocelin. How are you?”
When I look up, I pause, unprepared to see a guy with two full sleeves of tattoos, long black hair braided down his back, and a gloriously full beard and mustache. He looks like he belongs in a biker bar, not behind the counter at a cozy cafe. When I stand up to my full height, he looks me straight in the eyes, and I grin. It’s not often I meet someone as tall as I am, who isn’t related to me. Without hesitating, he grins back. It’s utterly disarming and softens his otherwise almost scary appearance. He checks out my tattoos approvingly. “Love the ink.”
I gesture to his arms. “Yours is sweet. Incredible detail.”
“Is that Jörmungandr?” He points to the dragon-serpent tattooed around my left wrist.
I hold up my arm. “Yeah. How’d you know? Most people think it’s just a dragon or snake.”
His eyes sparkle. “Well they aren’t wrong, but also not quite right. And I kind of cheated. One of Jocelin’s friends comes in frequently, and he has some really cool Norse tattoos. He told me all about ’em, and I went home and did a little research on my own. Came across mention ofJörmungandr, Fenrir,andHel,and thought they’d make really cool additions.“ He winks. “I was right.”
Jocelin’s laugh reminds me I’m being rude and ignoring him. “Sorry, Joce. Got a bit distracted.” I take his hand and squeeze, but he’s smiling, and when he leans into me, I kiss his temple.
“It’s fine. Bill, this is my boyfriend, Gunnar.” From the way Jocelin smiles as he says ‘boyfriend’, he likes saying it as much as I like hearing it. “He’s Erik’s brother.”
Bill’s eyes go wide. “I should have known. Huge guy with Norse tattoos, here with Jocelin.” He extends his enormous hand across the pastry case. I take it and shake, liking him immediately. “Nice to meet you, Gunnar. As Jocelin said, my name’s Bill. I’m the pastry chef and evening manager here at Love ’n Cup.” He turns to Jocelin and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to monopolize the conversation.”
Jocelin shakes his head. “I don’t mind. The stories behind people’s tattoos are almost always interesting. And I don’t have any of my own, so I live vicariously.” He gestures to Bill’s arm. “Gunnar, you should see Bill’s Apollo. It’s scarily lifelike!”
I frown teasingly. “Is Apollo a euphemism for something?”
Jocelin snorts, and Bill’s loud laugh fills the cafe. “No. He has Apollo on his bicep.”
Bill pulls up his short sleeve and shows me the full image of an incredibly detailed statue of Apollo. I whistle and lean closer. “How many hours?”
“Took four sessions to get all the work done. About six hours each time.”
“Local?”
Bill nods. “Shop’s just up the road in Capitol Hill. Wouldn’t go anywhere else. Had my piercings done there, too.”
My eyes immediately go to his ears, but there aren’t any piercings there, and I can’t see any on his face. Bill blushes a soft pink, but he winks at me, and I laugh. “Ah.”
“So, what can I get you two? I’m certain you didn’t come in here to chat with me about my tattoos and piercings.”
Jocelin leans on the case, peering inside. “What do you recommend today?”
Bill glances at me. “Any food allergies I should know about?” When I shake my head, he nods. “Well then, I’ve been experimentin’ with recipes, and today I have two new ones you might like. Right there is sfogliatelle. It’s Italian, if you hadn’t guessed. It’s layered pastry, with a sweet custard-like fillin’ made with semolina, ricotta, and candied citrus fruit. And then over here, I have galaktoboureko, which is Greek. That’s phyllo, sprinkled with melted butter and a layer of light semolina custard. It’s all doused with orange-spiced, sugary syrup, and it’s amazin’, if I do say so myself.” He gestures to the rest of the case. “We do have the regular rotation of brownies, chocolate chip cookies, pound cakes, and cream horns.” Bill winks at me. “Met my fiancé over a cream horn.”
Jocelin’s eyes open wide. “Fiancé? When did that happen?”
Bill’s grin gets a bit goofy. “Last weekend, while we were away visitin’ Duncan’s sister in Portland. He got down on one knee in the moonlight, and bless him, he was nervous as a cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs.” Whoever Duncan is, Bill is obviously besotted, and it’s cute. “Next time you’re in, I’ll hopefully have my ring back from the jeweler. It’s gettin’ sized right now.” He smooths down his beard. “Anyway, enough about me. What can I get you?”
Jocelin chews on his lower lip as he stares into the case, eyes darting from one thing to the next. I nudge him. “Can’t decide?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I want to try one of the new pastries, but I also love Bill’s lemon pound cake.” He screws up his face and then points to the top shelf. “A sfogliatella. And an oolong please.”
