Shortbread and Shadows - Amy Lane Page 0,62

Bartholomew against him.

“Okay,” Bartholomew murmured. “What am I thinking about?”

“You are thinking about what life looks like for us after your whole situation is resolved. What is it you want?”

Bartholomew frowned. “Like, if I could—”

Lachlan shook his head. “No ifs, Tolly. I want you to lay out your perfect future for me. And it may not match mine—that’s fine. I watch my parents choose between sports and theater all the fucking time. But you dream a future for us, and you dream big. And then tell me about it in the morning, before you go to your shitty day job, okay?”

Bartholomew practically moaned. “Maybe I can call in to my shitty day job,” he muttered.

Lachlan smiled and kissed his temple. “That’s fine. You and me, maybe we can spend all tomorrow in bed, or on the couch, or cooking if you want to do that. And we can dream ourselves a future. What do you think?”

Bartholomew smiled and kissed him without hesitation.

He thought it was an amazing idea.

THAT night, after the coven performed another safety spell and Alex set an old-fashioned bell alarm clock for fifteen minutes before dawn before going to sleep on Jordan’s couch again, the two of them made love in Bartholomew’s narrow bed before they fell asleep.

Bartholomew had a dream of such magnitude, such brightness, it promised to rip the darkness of the spell threatening the cul-de-sac into tatters.

He dreamed of what looked like Lachlan’s backyard—only bigger. It was as though a good ninety-nine acres of land had been freed up, and four other houses had been built on points of the land, like points on a star.

His friends lived in those houses, some with new lovers and some with lovers they’d had all along, and they were meeting in the center of the giant pentacle that day for a wedding.

A glorious wedding of five couples, all of them dressed in white with a rainbow of accents, from purple bow ties to forest green kerchiefs to the sky-blue border of Kate’s dress.

They all had amulets of silver, like Bartholomew’s and Lachlan’s now were, and they all lived and worked and loved in these houses, close enough for their coven to be happy, far enough away for each couple to live freely.

The foothills sun slanted in autumnal glory, illuminating the faces of people he loved so much, they were better than blood.

His parents were there—but whether they looked approving or not, he couldn’t see and didn’t care. Lachlan’s family was there, and he could hear their laughter, see Lachlan’s sister, who looked shockingly like Lachlan himself, and their smiles beamed almost as bright as the sun.

A table of baked goods—and dinner—sat waiting for the five happy couples to have their ceremony and announce their love, their steadfast binding, for all the world to see and then to celebrate with abundance.

When Bartholomew tumbled out of bed while the sky was still black the next morning, he hung on to that dream, to the bright of it against the dark. He would sit with Lachlan that day and lay out every detail of it and all that had to be done, from refitting Lachlan’s kitchen to how much money he’d have to make to quit his day job, to wondering which rich person would buy up all the property and pay Jordan’s dad to start making houses.

It was a bold dream—a wonderful dream—and one with many particulars to be decided.

But Bartholomew laid it at his lover’s feet bravely, holding Lachlan’s hand and laughing at Lachlan’s gentle teasing, and together the two of them took the first steps to a world where they would be together forever.

It started with being brave enough to dream.

Bonus Story—

So, Lachlan’s family is pretty awesome. Who wants to meet them?

Meeting the Folks

“YOU know, I don’t have to go tonight,” Bartholomew said, feeling stupid and transparent and not caring. “I mean, we performed the evening ritual, but, you know, you and Jordan might need some company over at Jordan’s house—”

Alex didn’t roll his eyes. He looked at Bartholomew blandly and waited for him to peter out.

“Don’t be a cowardly weenie,” he said.

“I don’t have good experiences with parents, you know. My parents are awful,” Bartholomew said. Alex had met them only once, when Bartholomew had moved in. Judging from Alex’s shudder, their snide, running commentary as to the quality of the neighborhood and how broke everybody had to be to need roommates obviously left an impression.

“This is true,” Alex said, and perversely, the validation helped. “But