Aiden has prepared a special kind of Easter egg for his boyfriend, Tristan. He wants to make their first Easter together special, memorable, but as the moment for handing over the egg draws nearer, Aiden’s nerves get the better of him. What if he has it all wrong and Tristan wants nothing to do with silky satin hidden within the egg?
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Tristan would be home any minute now. The nervousness fluttering in Aiden’s belly increased with each tick of the clock. What if he had it all wrong? What if Tristan would be upset?
He lifted the top off the cardboard Easter egg and popped a piece of fudge into his mouth, frantically chewing while keeping the egg out of Og’s reach. He shouldn’t eat them. He’d bought them especially for Tristan. Chocolate fudge, vanilla fudge, peppermint fudge—they all tasted good.
Og gave up on the idea of getting to sink his slimy teeth into the egg, at least momentarily, and with a huff took up his usual place in front of the wood-burning stove.
Aiden tried to ignore the cool feel of satin against his fingers when he reached into the egg for more fudge. His hands shook slightly as he pieced it back together. He needed to set the table; everything was good to go except the table, and he knew just how he would decorate it.
Tristan would be so surprised when he saw the colourful tablecloth, the flowers, and the napkins. No other holiday inspired creativity like Easter did. Okay, maybe Halloween, but there were no bright colours then.
Aiden wiped his sweaty palms on his new jeans—they made his arse look edible, he hoped Tristan would like them—and put the plates on the table. Before folding the napkins into rabbits like he’d seen on YouTube, he fetched the egg from the coffee table—should I place it there on the table?—righted the yellow tulips in the vase…and ate another piece of Tristan’s fudge. Pecan, possibly the best so far. He went to fetch the dessert spoons, slipping another piece into his mouth when he returned. Creamy almond melted on his tongue, and he sighed. Bliss! Too bad it didn’t calm the desperate hammering of his heart. He ate another piece, groaned, and tried to ignore his guilty conscious that was telling him not to have any more of Tristan’s sweets.
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