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Stede loved the holiday farmers’ market: the beautiful handcrafted wreaths, the smells of balsam and cinnamon, the fibercrafts and paper arts alongside the baked goodies and pasta and honey bears and winter vegetables. It was a pleasant, wholesome diversion for himself and his children; something to anticipate that he could count on to break the November and December monotony.
But Stede had another reason to look forward to the holiday market this year: it gave him the chance to look for that tall, handsome stranger with the close-cropped beard and long, wavy, salt-and-pepper hair he’d seen all summer at the outdoor farmers’ market. Stede had spent more time than was reasonable thinking about him ever since the first day they’d locked eyes and exchanged friendly smiles over bins of baby lettuce leaves. At first he’d only seen the man sporadically; then it had become every week at his favorite biodynamic farm stand. The other man’s hair had been flowing loosely around his shoulders when Stede first laid eyes on him; once they began running into each other regularly, Stede noted he always had his hair pulled partly or all the way back. Stede appreciated being able to see more of his lovely face, though the thought of letting down that hair and tangling his fingers in the man’s loose-flowing locks had played a starring role in many of Stede’s nighttime fantasies, if he were honest.
As the weeks had gone on, they’d begun exchanging a few friendly words each time they ran into each other, although it would inevitably last only a few moments before Alma or Louis would pull Stede away to ask for more spending money or a cup of lemonade or for Stede to hold whatever random item Louis had picked up. He tried to be his wittiest and most charming at these meetings over peppers or zucchini or acorn squash, though the other man’s tattooed arms and general vibe of effortless hotness left him unusually tongue-tied. Stede laid awake nights remembering the time he’d commented on the heft of the eggplants, making the other man turn an impressive shade of purple himself with suppressed laughter. (Stede was three stands down before he realized the implications of what he’d said. He promptly wanted to die.)
But despite his massive and lingering embarrassment, Stede was fascinated by the man, especially once he’d overheard an exchange at one of the sweet corn stands in late summer. The farmer there had said, as he handed some change to an Asian-looking person, “Oh, I recognize you! You do my wife’s nails!”
The person looked stunned for a second, then replied, “No, I’m a professor,” before they walked away.
As Stede was cringing over what he’d just witnessed, he heard the silver-haired man say, “‘S kinda racist, don’t you think, mate?” before leaving without making a purchase. Stede was starry-eyed with admiration. It was so different from the way Midwesterners handled—or, more accurately, didn’t handle—such things. Stede supposed that made sense; the man was clearly from the other side of the world, as Stede himself was. But it was so brave and confident—everything Stede wished he could be but wasn’t. Not in any way, shape or form. The other man was so calm and self-possessed and devastatingly gorgeous that Stede simply couldn't stop thinking about him, in season and out of season.
But as it was, they had still only said a few words in passing to one another, even though at the last summer market, Stede had been shopping for pastries at a different stand when he felt a tap on the shoulder. It was his handsome produce friend. “You forgot these,” he said, handing over a carton of eggs with a cheeky wink that made Stede want to fall to his knees. Stede had indeed been so distracted by trying to think of something flirty-yet-appropriate to say as he was being dragged away by his children that he’d left the eggs behind.
“Oh, cheers!” Stede had exclaimed. But before he could say more, take this as an opportunity to ask the other man’s name, maybe even (gasp!) see if he wanted to get coffee sometime, the man had gotten swept up in the crowd and moved on.
And so, that was Stede’s only complaint about the holiday market: it was too infrequent, and the hours were different, and although he’d looked around eagerly each time to try and spy his friend-he’d-never-said-more-than-five-words-to-at-once, he’d had no luck.
But although he saw no sign of him yet again, at least Stede could ease his disappointment by shopping for delightful things. While Alma and Louis picked out sweet treats from a nearby vendor’s table, Stede admired a particularly handsome evergreen wreath with sprays of red and white berries; that would be perfect for his front door. He’d have to ask them to hold it for him while he finished his shopping. He had begun gently running his fingertips along an ornament made of dried flowers—so delicate and beautiful—when he heard an exasperatingly mocking voice coming from just behind him.
“Well well well, Baby Bonnet. Doing some Christmas shopping? Or just buying yourself some flowers?”
“Nigel,” Stede replied, his voice coming out rather higher-pitched than intended. Dammit, that man was always showing up where he was least wanted. What were the odds one’s childhood nemesis would wind up not only in the same sleepy Midwestern town, but working at the same company? Extremely high, apparently, if your name was Stede Bonnet. “Yes, I’m doing some holiday shopping,” he lied. He wasn’t shopping for gifts, and no one would be buying him flowers, dried or otherwise, anytime soon; he would indeed have to do it himself.
Stede was trying to ignore Nigel, who did not seem inclined to leave him alone. What a shock. “So have you scared up a plus one for the holiday party yet, Bonnet? It’d be too bad to see you skulking around by yourself again. Shame about Mary, really.” Stede didn’t need to turn around; he could hear the smirk on Nigel’s face.
Stede flinched. It was only too true he’d be awkwardly circulating among the many couples yet again, counting the minutes and seconds until he could escape at last. While Mary was abroad and he was living the single dad life full time, he didn’t have much opportunity to meet anyone, even if he were good at that sort of thing. Which he most assuredly was not.
Stede groaned internally. He tried to think of something clever to say—a cutting retort would have been nice—but he was failing miserably. He found himself giving up yet again, resigning himself to simply agreeing with everything Nigel said in hopes he’d go away.
But then—suddenly—Stede felt a hand on the small of his back, and he heard a mellow voice saying, “Oh good, the kids are getting their snacks. I’m Ed. His plus one.”
Stede looked up and worked extraordinarily hard not to faint. Oh my god. It was his farmers’ market crush, right beside him, keeping his left hand on Stede’s back (dear lord the man was touching him) while extending his right toward Nigel. Stede took in the stunned shock on Nigel’s face for a split second before bringing his eyes back to his rescuing angel.
Ed. His name is Ed. Stede had never been happier to see another human being in his entire life.
“Nigel Badminton.” Nigel shook Ed’s hand. “How long have you two been seeing each other?” He sounded suspicious, now that he’d recovered from his initial surprise.
Ed turned to face Stede. “What is it, Hot Stuff? Three months?” he asked, winking subtly with the eye Nigel wouldn’t be able to see.
“Sounds about right.” Ed’s evident enjoyment of the ruse gave Stede a rush of confidence; he snuck his hand around Ed’s waist. Have to sell it, right? Goodness, this was nice. Stede missed the tattoos, but damn, could Ed wear the fuck out of a cozy sweater.
Ed followed suit, wrapping his arm around Stede and pulling him closer as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Stede heard his pulse pounding in his ears. He couldn’t believe any of this was happening. A holiday miracle. “Best three months of my life,” Ed said, looking at Stede, smiling like he meant it. He couldn’t possibly, but Oh my god I am so in love with you, Stede thought anyway, gazing into his beautiful eyes. For his part, Stede didn’t have to fake a thing.
“Then I suppose I’ll see you both tonight,” Nigel said frostily, finally picking up on the vibe that he was neither wanted nor needed any longer.
“See you then,” Stede said dreamily, fully distracted, not caring a lick what Nigel thought or didn’t think. He and Ed stood there a moment longer, arms around each other, before they seemed to realize simultaneously that the moment had passed and let go, much to Stede’s regret. “How can I possibly thank you enough, Ed?” he said, struggling to find the words to convey the depth of his gratitude. “How did you know I needed rescuing?”
Ed shrugged. “Wasn’t hard to tell. Guy’s clearly an arsehole.”
“And a half.” Stede shuddered involuntarily.
“You could tell me your name, though,” Ed suggested, smiling gently.
“Oh! It’s Stede. Stede Bonnet.”
“Nice to meet you, Stede Bonnet, my boyfriend of three months.”
Stede blushed and grinned. “I do feel like I already know you. I was hoping to see you again. It was so nice bumping into you at the farmers’ market all summer.”
“Hmm. Well. You did have a nicely predictable schedule.” Ed’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at him.
Stede’s mind was still too boggled by everything that had happened to pick up on the implications of what Ed had just said. He’d been so kind; it would only be fair to let him off the hook. “You don’t actually need to come to my work party, of course,” Stede said, a little reluctantly. “I could tell them you got food poisoning or something.”
“I know I don’t.” Ed paused. “Wait, you don’t not want me to come, do you?” Ed had been smiling so easily, all openness and casual friendliness, but a guarded look suddenly came over his face and a tightness into his voice.
Stede gasped, horrified at how badly he was bungling this. “No! I mean yes!” he babbled desperately. “I mean—” he took a deep breath. I have to fix this. “I definitely want you to come. More than anything. But I don’t want to force you to spend time with me and a bunch of posh nobs hobnobbing with a bunch of other posh nobs. They’re so dreadful.”
The crease between Ed’s eyebrows eased. “Can see that, if your ‘friend’ Nigel there is any indication. But I’m all in, mate. Love a good fuckery.”
Phew, Stede thought. That was close. Thank goodness he understood. “Well then,” he said out loud, gathering up all his meager self-assurance. “Can I take you out to dinner beforehand? If we’ve been dating for three months, we probably ought to know something about each other. I think I can get the sitter to come early.”
“Sounds like a plan. Here, put your number in my phone and I’ll text you.” Ed unlocked his phone and handed it to Stede; he’d just finished putting it in when Alma and Louis descended on him.
“Dad! Dad! Look at all the stuff we got!”
Ed smiled broadly. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, beginning to step away to give them space.
Stede grinned back, dimple emerging, unaware of how adorable he himself was with his blond curls poking out from his knit cap and the smile all the way up to his eyes and his children tugging at his arms.
“Who was that, Dad?” Alma asked curiously, looking after Ed as he walked away.
As he was about to answer, Stede’s phone dinged; he pulled it out and read the text there: See you soon, Hot Stuff.
Stede couldn’t help but giggle. “My fake boyfriend,” he said aloud to his (understandably mystified) daughter. Visions swirled in Stede’s head of coming here all together, on purpose; drinking cups of hot cocoa and sporting whipped cream mustaches; pointing out treasures to each other and secretly buying each other their favorite things. Maybe not fake forever, Stede thought. Hey, a man could dream, couldn’t he?