The Empty Egg
By Ofelia Gränd
Published by JMS Books LLC
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Copyright 2021 Ofelia Gränd
ISBN 9781646568321
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
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Leonie Duncan, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you!
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The Empty Egg
By Ofelia Gränd
Aiden shoved Og out of the way as the darned dog tried to take the large colourful Easter egg from his hands. It was no easy feat; Og wasn’t a small dog, and when he put his mind to something, it was almost impossible to divert him.
Aiden sighed and raked a finger over the armrest of the ratty sofa. He would give it a bit longer before he suggested buying a new one, not that Aiden’s massage studio generated much money, but this one needed to go. He truly believed having to look at it, day in and day out, would lead to an early death. Tristan had to be blind if he couldn’t see it, not that it surprised Aiden. If there was one thing he’d learnt since moving here a couple of months ago, it was that material things didn’t matter to Tristan. It was nice, in a way, but sometimes Aiden wished he wanted them to have a beautiful home. Today, it would be beautiful. He glanced over at the kitchen area and prepared to get up.
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, for the time being, at least, 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 he place it 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.
Maybe he should hide the egg. He ran his fingers through his curls, making sure they weren’t too badly tangled. Reaching into the egg again, he almost snatched his hand back when the smooth fabric brushed against his hand. What would it feel like to wear them? Cool and silky, sliding against his skin. Aiden let out an unsteady breath. What if he’d got it all wrong? Heat spread over his cheeks. Maybe he should forget about the egg altogether, hide it, and pretend he’d never planned to give it to Tris.
He took another piece—salted caramel. Fuck! He shouldn’t have eaten that. He’d only bought a couple of pieces, and he’d already eaten some in the car back from Whiteport. He’d gone for no other reason than to buy fudge at the chocolatier, and it was fucking expensive. He’d bought the jeans, too, as he was already in the city, but they weren’t the reason he’d gone there. Tristan was.
He checked the vegetables in the oven. There was still time, but Tristan needed to get his fine arse home soon or it would all be ruined. Aiden reached over the plates to snatch another piece of fudge, digging around but feeling only the satin and the soft elastic lace. In one erratic movement, he tipped the egg over, almost bringing down one of the wine glasses with it.
Two sorry pieces.
Aiden swallowed, anger and sadness warring in his chest. He’d eaten Tristan’s luxury fudge. He couldn’t give him an Easter egg with two pathetic pieces, that was…pathetic.
Og’s honey-coloured eyes held none of their usual understanding. If Aiden hadn’t known better, he’d have said that look was downright accusing. Breathing
