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“David?”
“Back here.” The porch swing lurches sideways as David struggles to sit up, sliding to the corner to make room for his husband. By the door, Mariah woofs softly as Patrick comes onto the veranda. Nudging David’s knees apart, Patrick tilts his head back, kissing him deeply before settling onto the swing beside him. “How was your day?”
“Weird.” Patrick toys with the corner of the brown envelope he’s holding in his left hand.
David stiffens at the familiar sign of Patrick’s anxiety, but he keeps his voice light. “Weird as in Roland wouldn’t stop talking about alternative uses for the new salad oils or weird in some other, less disturbing, way?”
“Weird as in Monica offered to buy the store. Stores. All the stores. Every store we own. All three locations.” Patrick laughs, but it’s tight, like he’s not sure how David will react.
“What?!”
“She’s going to come back tomorrow when we’re both in and Mandi can watch the floor.” Patrick twists his hands on the crisp paper, it crackles as he hands it over. “It’s a lot of money.”
“What?” David can’t stop repeating himself as his brain scampers in circles. It’s taken ten years to build their little business empire and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t dreamed of something like this, but now that the moment is here, he doesn’t know how to react. “I like Monica.”
“I know.” Patrick rubs a hand up David’s thigh, his touch grounds them both. “I think we should consider it.”
“But what about—?” David waves a hand, taking in the swing, their cottage, and a good chunk of greater Schitt’s Creek. “I thought this was where you wanted to be?”
“I love our life here.” Patrick’s hand strokes soft circles on David’s leg. “But someone I know has big dreams and I want to help him chase them.”
“Okay, no.” David nudges his husband with his elbow. “What about your dreams? We’ve been over this. You don’t get to sacrifice yourself for me.”
“My dream is to be with you.” Patrick gives David his best puppy dog eyes and David pinches his side in retaliation.
“I know you think that sort of sincerity will distract me, but it’s been ten years. I’m immune to your wiles.” He’s not, and Patrick knows it, but he can’t afford to get sidetracked. This is too important.
“You love my wiles.” Patrick grins at him, taking his hand and tangling their fingers together. “If you want to leave here, then I think I’m ready.”
“But what about Stevie? And your parents? And—?” The decision seems too enormous, there’s no way he can consider all the implications.
“Even if we left Schitt’s Creek, we could keep the house. And you know Stevie is ready to move in with Ruth.” Patrick squeezes his hand. “We don’t have to decide today, or even tomorrow.”
“Mmm.” David slides a finger beneath the flap of the envelope. Hesitating, he pulls away before handing the documents back to Patrick. “The paperwork is your thing. I want to hear what Monica has to say.”
Patrick sets the envelope at their feet and gives the swing a gentle push, tucking his body into David’s shoulder. How many evenings have they spent like this, just the two of them? With a soft yip, a white ball of fur launches itself into Patrick’s lap. Patrick chuckles, rubbing Mariah’s ears as she makes herself comfortable. Just the three of them. Four, when Stevie is home. The lights in the carriage house are dark, Stevie won’t be back until Wednesday. And yet—he can feel the pull to do other things, to see other places. His stomach rumbles, a welcome distraction. “Did you bring anything for dinner?”
“Pizza’s on its way.” Sliding Mariah onto David’s lap, Patrick presses a kiss to his cheek, letting his lips linger. “I’m going to take a shower. Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
***
A sliver of light shines through the crack in the curtains. Mrs. Peterman has left her porch light on again. Beside him, Patrick snuffles in his sleep, shuffling closer and sliding an arm across David’s waist.
He should be asleep. It’s nearly midnight and he likes to get to the store early on Tuesdays to straighten and tidy all the shelves that have been manhandled during his day off, but the idea of selling the store won’t leave him alone. The store is his baby. He’s poured ten years of his life—of their lives—into it and he’s proud of what they’ve created without any help or money from his parents. He can’t imagine life without it. And yet—he’s always thought of it as a stepping stone to something bigger.
As gently as he can, he lifts Patrick’s arm and places it on the mattress, slipping out from under the duvet. Grabbing his phone from the night stand, he tiptoes across the carpet and eases open the door. Mariah lifts her head from her basket but she doesn’t move as he creeps into the hall, leaving the door ajar behind him.
In the kitchen, he pulls a pint of peanut butter chocolate ice cream from the freezer and props his phone up on the counter, hitting Facetime and calling the familiar number.
“David? What’s wrong?” His sister’s face fills the screen.
“Nothing’s wrong, why do you automatically assume something’s wrong?”
“It’s 11:30 at night and you’re eating ice cream.” She has a point. It wouldn't be the first time he’s called her like this. “Did you and Patrick have a fight?”
“No. I just can’t sleep.” This was a bad idea. It’s been ten years since Alexis has been in New York, you’d think he would have learned by now.
“Because you had a fight.”
“We didn’t have a fight. Something happened, that’s all.”
“Okay. Well, are you going to tell me what it is?”
“Someone wants to buy the store.”
“And Patrick doesn’t want to sell.”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, Patrick said we should consider it.” His insecurity rises to the surface and forms into words. “I just—ten years is a long time, what if this was a fluke and I don’t know how to be good at anything else?”
“David.” Even though he can’t see it, he knows she’s tapping a finger on the table. “I know you think I’ve always been a major girl boss, but it took time for me to be this good. If you have to, you can learn something new.”
The ice cream is almost gone. “Thanks. I think.”
“Any time. Come visit sometime.” With a boop of her finger at the screen, Alexis ends the call.
***
The murmur of David’s voice pulls Patrick awake. Without checking, he knows the other side of the bed is empty. David’s insomnia comes and goes, but the news about the store would definitely keep him up. David must be talking to Alexis. Or Stevie. The murmur rises audibly, David’s annoyed tone is apparent, even from the kitchen. Definitely Alexis.
Stretching beneath the covers, he loses himself in the rise and fall of David’s voice. He’ll go down in a minute to see if David ate all the ice cream and to cajole him back to bed. An echo of David’s restlessness finds him, revving up his own thoughts. What would it be like, living somewhere else? They’ve spent ten years here—ten good years here. He can’t deny the buzz of excitement that swirls inside him at the thought of doing something new. And he knows David wants more—he’s seen the sketchbooks filled with drawings and ideas.
The murmurs from downstairs have stopped. Flipping back the covers, Patrick gets out of bed. Mariah gives a full body shake, her tags jingling as she follows at his heels down the stairs.
“Did you leave any for me?” David sits at the island, empty ice cream container on the counter in front of him. His hair sticks up a bit in the back and his black and white sleep clothes are rumpled. Patrick can’t help but reach for him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple as he pulls out the high-backed stool next to him.
“There’s another pint in the freezer. If you want.”
Chuckling, Patrick retrieves the ice cream and a second spoon and takes the other stool, knocking their knees together as he passes the container to David. “How’s Alexis?”
“Infuriating.” David carves out a spoonful. “You know.”
Even after a decade, Patrick isn’t sure he can define the alchemy that makes up David and Alexis’s relationship, but he nods anyway. “What are you worried about?”
“What if it was a fluke?” The words are garbled around David’s spoon. Swallowing his ice cream, David jabs the spoon into the air. “What if we leave here and I make you miserable? What if I’m miserable? What if your parents hate me for taking you away from them? What if—”
“So, nothing major, then.”
“Shut up.” David pokes him in the side, making him squirm.
“We’ll just hear what Monica has to say. And then we’ll talk about it.” Tugging the spoon from David’s hand, Patrick puts the lid back on the ice cream. “Let’s go back to bed.”
***
The next morning, David paces across the black and white wool rug in their shared office space. Monica will be here any minute. On the other side of the room, Patrick taps at his keyboard, a pile of vendor contracts at his elbow. David eyes his husband narrowly as he makes another lap of the room. How can Patrick be so calm when their entire world might change in the next half hour?
“Should I budget for a new rug?” Patrick lifts what passes for an eyebrow at him. “In case you wear a hole in this one?”
With a huff, David throws himself onto the matching sofa, shooting back to his feet as the bell sounds downstairs. Her footsteps sound on the stairs and minutes later, Monica appears in the doorway. As always, she’s simply but elegantly dressed. Today, she’s wearing a finely cut burgundy blazer over a black sweater and jeans. The blazer matches the purple stripe in her hair. “David. Patrick.”
“Monica. It’s good to see you.” David returns her hug. David wouldn’t say he’s a hugger by nature, but Monica has always been the exception to the rule. Her Elm Valley bed and breakfast has been a regular getaway for the two of them.
David sits beside Monica on the sofa as Patrick joins them in the adjacent chair. Monica pulls a black portfolio case from her bag. “Did Patrick tell you about our offer?”
“He told me there was an offer.” David squeezes his hands together to keep them from waving through the air and betraying his feelings. “I wanted to hear about it from you.”
“Okay. First, let me assure you that we want to keep your vision for Rose Apothecary intact. We know that’s what has made you successful and we want to build on that.”
“I’m sorry, who is ‘we?’” The possibility of having strangers involved only increases David’s anxiety about selling the store.
“There are three of us, but I’d have the majority shares. We are all bed and breakfast owners, which brings me to the second part of our plan. We’d like to use Rose Apothecary as a destination shopping experience to drive retail business for our locations. Each B&B would offer a selection of items from the Rose Apothecary brand.”
It’s a good idea. David can picture it, a boutique shopping experience to complement vacations at the high end bed and breakfasts, each shop perfectly curated with local products. It’s a good idea, but he doesn’t want to do it. For the first time, a bigger idea nudges at him, pushing plans for their store to one side. “What about long term? What’s your plan?”
Monica leans forward and David can see the spark in her eyes. “We’d bring in other B&Bs as associates, expand the brand and the reach. The products they source would funnel upward to the anchor stores.”
Chewing on his lip, David glances at Patrick. Thankfully, his husband picks up his hint and steps in. “We need some time to talk about it—what it would mean.”
“Of course.” Monica puts her folder back in her bag. “We’re eager to make something happen, but we’re not in a hurry.”
Monica leaves, her footsteps confident on the stairs. Patrick moves to sit beside David on the sofa. “So?”
Closing his eyes, David tips his head back on the couch. Patrick’s hand finds the back of his neck, scratching gently. “Tell me about the money.”
“It’s a good offer. She’s left a little room to negotiate, but not too much. And it’s clean—no conditions.”
“Hmm.” Keeping his eyes closed, he leans into Patrick’s touch.
“If they decide to sell the stores later on, we’d have the first chance to buy it back.” David likes that. It feels like a safety net if something goes wrong. Patrick’s hand pauses for a second before he continues. “What’s your gut instinct? Right now, don’t overthink it.”
He wants it. God help him, he has big dreams and a notebook of ideas. “I—I think I want to sell.” Saying the words out loud hits him like a hammer. “But—” David opens his eyes and holds up a hand. “Only if you are one hundred percent sure it’s what you want.” He taps a finger into Patrick’s chest. “What you want.”
“I think I’m ready to try something different.” Patrick echoes his thoughts. “I love what we’ve built, but the store is our entire life. I think I’d like to see what our lives could be without it.”
“I would sleep in more, I know that much.”
“So afternoons and evenings only for our next venture. Got it.”
“Well, probably nothing after four o’clock, evenings are for dinner and movies.” David makes a face. “And your sportsball games.”
“Very important.” Patrick nods solemnly and kisses David on the cheek. “Let’s give it a few days before we get back to Monica. Just to make sure.”
Patrick likes to think things through, consider all the angles. It’s what makes them a good team. David knows he won’t change his mind. As soon as he’d said the words out loud, he’d known this is what he wants. Excitement fizzes inside him at the thought of building something new. “I’m sure.”