Page 79 of Ship Happens

That’s when the door to the classroom opens again and Jacob strolls right in, his eyes finding Owen immediately, like he just knows where Owen is.

“Hi,” he says as he makes his way over to Ethel and Harold’s station nervously. “I thought I’d find you here.”

“Am I that predictable?” Owen asks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ethel and Harold eye each other, tiptoeing closer like they’re trying to make their eavesdropping less obvious.

“Just a little,” Jacob says as he follows Owen back to his station. “I wanted to talk to you, and Kevin said that you were already gone.”

“Yeah, I didn’t sleep too well last night.”

“I didn’t either,” Jacob admits, his hand going to the back of his neck nervously.

“So . . .” Owen stands there, bracing himself against his cane.

“Can I help you?” Mel’s voice makes them both jump as she comes around to Owen’s station again, her attention drawn to Jacob.

“Oh, I, uh . . .” Jacob stammers. “I was just here to see—my boyfriend.”

The words seem so sincere and so affected at the same time, hitting Owen right in his heart. He knows Jacob only says that for simplicity. It’s easier to explain that they’re boyfriends instead of exes. Still . . .

“Well, it’s amazing to have you. But we do have a no-loitering policy. So if you want to be here”—Mel tosses him an apron—“suit up!”

Jacob eyes the apron in his hands, then looks at Owen.

“You heard her” is all he has to say.

Jacob grins as he slips the apron on, joining Owen behind the counter. “What should I do?”

“If you want to start on the icing, you can,” he says, handing a bowl to Jacob. “Powdered sugar is there, and the recipe is on the board.”

“Are you sure I can do this?” Jacob asks, grabbing the sugar bag.

“It’s three ingredients, Jacob . . .”

“Remember the last time I tried to cook ramen? I didn’t even get the noodles in the pot,” he says, laughing at the memory. He’d completely forgotten that he’d set the water to boil, getting caught up in proofreading a friend’s paper. When Owen came home from work, he found the pot still on the stove, the bottom completely burnt while Jacob sat on the couch reading.

Owen had loved that pot too.

“I have faith in you,” Owen says, almost instantly regretting his words.

Jacob scoffs. “That makes one of us.”

“I’m guessing you wanted to talk about last night?”

“Yeah,” Jacob says, still turned away. “I, uh . . . I wanted to apologize, for letting that happen.”

“Well, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” Owen tells him. “So there. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Please don’t do this, don’t run away,” Jacob says. He tries to keep his voice a whisper, but the words are pointed, and it’s clear that the nearby tables are at least attempting to catch the conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Owen tells him.

“Well, I do,” Jacob says, his voice solemn.

Owen swallows, dumping the scone dough onto the counter so that he can fold it out. “Fine,” he says. “Say what you want.”

“I . . .” Jacob turns toward him slightly, letting his head hang low. “I think I’ve been really confused. On this trip, and a bit before, if I’m being totally honest.”