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“Piss off,”
at the jingling bells as he rushed into the back room to take off his coat and get the lights on.
He usually had a morning routine in the shop, carefully making sure everything was in its place before he opened to the public. This morning he barely had chance to grab the change tray for the till out of the safe and turn the kettle on.
That was non-negotiable.
Tea was non-negotiable this morning. Tea wasessential.
There wasn’t anyone waiting outside, but Jack still rushed to get everything set up and officially open. He changed the number on the little wooden advent calendar on the counter:
24 Days Till Christmas!
And collapsed into his comfy chair.
Just in time for the kettle to make its satisfying click, which meant he had to get up again to make himself a cup of tea.
Being raised by his grandparents meant Jack had been instilled with a healthy respect for the restorative powers of tea, something he felt passionately about even now. What made it even better was the homemade shortbread his nan had given him the last time he’d gone home, and there was still a few left in the bottom of the tin.
The bell above the door jingled and Jack paused, a biscuit halfway to his mouth, and sighed as he put it back down.
He forced himself to smile as he jogged the two steps down, out of the kitchen into the shop.
Then broke into a real, genuine smile.
“Hi!”
Stuart laughed. “Nice jumper.”
Jack looked down at the red, cable-knit jumper and flipped Stuart the bird.
“Nan made this for me.”
Stuart walked over and pulled Jack into a back-slapping hug.
“It’s good to see you,” Jack said honestly. “I was just making a cup of tea.”
“Yes, please,” Stuart said, answering the silent offer.
He went to go and sit behind the counter and Jack was happy to leave him there while he put the kettle on to boil again. There were only a few people Jack ever trusted to help out at the shop, and Stuart was one of them.
They weren’t brothers, but they were closer than blood relatives. After meeting on a playground, aged four, they’d been delighted to find themselves sitting next to each other in Mrs Charleston’s Reception class. Jack had later learned that Stuart, who had two mums, and Jack, who was being raised by his grandparents, had been put together because of their ‘different’ family situations in the hopes that they’d bond.
Well, it had worked.
It didn’t matter that Jack had dark features and Stuart had vividly ginger hair and freckles—there was a sparkle of magic that had brought them into each other’s lives.
“I’ve got news,” Stuart said as Jack set a mug of tea in front of him.
“Go on.”
Jack dunked his shortbread in his tea, timing it just right so the biscuit was properly saturated but not about to fall into the mug.
“Darcey’s pregnant.”
Jack gaped for a second, then shoved his biscuit into his mouth before it disintegrated.
“You’re kidding.”
