Page 144 of Only Ever You

Bash

I’ve put the work clothes you left here in the wash for you (yes I read the labels) x

An hour later:

Bash

Our cheesecake place has a 10 flavour sample box. I was going to pick one up in the morning if you think that’d be cool for the party? Or I’ll get it anyway just for us ?? xx

After he took a shower and sank into his empty bed:

Bash

You’re probably already asleep, but goodnight, Peanut. x

The doorbell rang in an annoyingly chirpy chime throughout his house at the same time as Bash’s phone lit up with a notification from the front door camera. He hadn’t ordered anything to warrant a food delivery woman in an oversized green uniform coat standing on his front step, a flat-ish yet wide cardboard box in her hands.

“Hang on one moment, please,” he said to her through the app on his phone before quickly saving the open document on his computer and rushing down the four flights of stairs.

When he eventually got to his door the woman looked bored, cold, but was friendly enough.

“Package for Mr … Phillips-Dumont?” There was some kind of label stapled to the box she cocked her head to read.

“That’s me,” Bash said, feeling the chilly effect of the wind as it gathered in his doorway. “But I didn’t order anything.”

“Your name is here and this is this address, right?” She showed him the label on the box.

Thatwashis name. And definitely his address. But Bash hadn’t ordered any food. Could he have bought the round of sample cheesecakes somehow by mistake? The box didn’t look deep enough to?—

The delivery woman’s pointed features grew increasingly bored and cold as he struggled to make up his mind.

“It is. Must be my mum’s doing,” he said just for the sake of having something to say. “Thank you.”

She scanned the code on the box with a little machine attached to her hip, handed it over, and left. Bash brought himself back into the warmth before he could see where she went.

He took the box to his kitchen table whilst simultaneously ignoring his erotic memories from the other night, confused as hell.

The name was clearly his. The address was correct. There was a definite smell of food – something sweet.

Careful to keep the box flat, he took scissors from a drawer and cut the various packaging tapes to open it up. Like a scene from a movie, he expected golden light to stream from the edges and a chorus of sopranos to build up his intrigued suspense.

None of that happened, obviously, but the logo forBaked By The Dozenwas on a bright rose and white box within, and the smell of fresh dough wafted from the seams.

“Faye?”

The plain outer packaging became a second thought, pushed aside so Bash could hopefully find some sort of explanation for why he had a tray of doughnuts in his hands. When he opened it up, how his heart squeezed and contracted and melted like butter gave him part of his answer.

They were his favourites; the good old fashioned sugar doughnut with apple and raspberry jam filling. Twelve of them. Sure, you could buy them anywhere at most supermarket bakeries, but Faye’s would always be the first on his list.

A decorative card the size of his hand sat atop them all with a hand written note, meaning Faye’d packed the doughnuts herself in their thin paper cases – Bash would recognise her handwriting out of a stack of letters any day.

His palms went sweaty with a mixture of nerves and excitement. As much as the smell of these delicious sugary doughnuts was tempting, he wiped his hands on his jeans and read the card first.

Dearest Bash,

Dearest Bash!His heart couldn’t possibly drum inside of his chest any louder.

There are a hundred things that I’ve never said to you, but I love you Bash. More than just as my friend. More than I have the capacity to put into words. I’ve fallen in love with your wonderfulness. Wholly. Madly. Completely.

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