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Ruari was already steering Cassian behind the counter by both shoulders. “Cassian, wash your hands. Scoring knife’s on the rack above the proving baskets. You remember how I showed you to do it?”

Cassian washed his hands. The water was warm, and the soap smelled like lemon verbena. He dried his palms on a clean tea towel, picked up the scoring knife, and turned to face six loaves sitting fat and pale on the bench, their surfaces taut from the final prove.

“Cut in a diagonal,” Ruari said from behind him. “One clean stroke. Commit to it. If you hesitate, you tear instead of cut, and then the bread opens ugly.”

Cassian set the blade against the first loaf and drew it through in a single motion. The dough parted beneath the razor, and the loaf exhaled warm, yeasty air.

“That’s it,” Ruari said. “Next one.”

Cassian scored the next one, and the one after that, while behind him Ruari loaded trays and bellowed at Raf. The café filled with the ordinary noise of a Wednesday afternoon on Portobello Road. His wrists didn’t hurt.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Take care of him, Colin had whispered. He got word today that the annulment came through. It’s a good thing, but he’s chewing through what it means for him.

Ruari had nodded, and then Colin resumed bouncing Tala on his hip like he hadn’t just handed Ruari a grenade with the pin already out.

Cassian was behind the counter now, scoring loaves with the tip of his tongue poking out. Ruari watched long enough to be sure he wasn’t making a mess of it, then pushed through the swing door into the kitchen.

His flask was in the cupboard above the extractor, tucked behind the industrial bag of caster sugar. He’d poured in four measures of Laphroaig that morning, before heading down to start his day. He unscrewed the cap and took a pull. The peat hit the back of his throat, and burned its way down.

Raf appeared in the doorway.

Ruari lowered the flask. Raf’s gaze moved from the flask to Ruari’s face.

“Want one?” Ruari raised the flask towards him.

“I’m good.”

Ruari screwed the cap back on. “Listen, would you be alright to close up tonight? Thought I’d take Cass up the Elgin. He’s had a day.”

Raf wiped his hands on his apron. “Take him to Five Guys. He likes it there.”

“Five Guys.”

“Yeah. The one on Westbourne Grove. Burgers are decent, and he can have as many milkshakes as he wants.”

Five Guys didn’t have a bar. Five Guys didn’t have pints arriving at the table without being ordered because the regulars knew your habits.

“Cheers for the recommendation,” Ruari said, and put the flask back in the cupboard. “But the Elgin does a steak night on Wednesdays, and Cass goes mad for the chips.”

“Okay. I’ll close, then.” Raf turned his back to Ruari and returned to work.

Ruari clapped him on the shoulder on the way past. He was a big lad. He held his drink. Other people made a mess of it; he never had. A couple of pints and a whisky would take the edge off, settle him proper, so he’d have the right words when Cassian needed them.

He returned to Cassian, who was still at the counter. Ruari came up behind him, hooked both arms over his shoulders, and let his full weight settle against Cassian’s back until the omega staggered forward and had to brace himself on the bench.

“Let’s go out for an early dinner, Cass.” Ruari kissed Cassian’s jaw. “We need to celebrate.”

Cassian’s hands stilled on the knife. He didn’t smile.

Ruari nuzzled into his neck, his stubble dragging over the soft skin below his ear until Cassian shivered. “You’re free, gorgeous.” His palm landed on the curve of Cassian’s arse with a smack that rang off the tile walls. “You’re all mine.”

Cassian’s breath hitched, and Ruari was already steering him towards the stairs.

“Raf, we’re off,” Ruari called over his shoulder.

“I noticed,” Raf said.