Page 100 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
He returns a few minutes later with a package that smells even more incredible.
“Are those cinnamon buns?” I ask.
“You bet.” He leans down and kisses me, as though he just can’t help it, as though it’s his natural reaction to seeing me now. “The best ones in the city.”
“That’s a bold claim.”
He sets one cinnamon bun on a plate for me. The aroma is heavenly, and the icing looks perfect—not too heavy or too light. I practically drool. This morning feels like pure decadence, and when I break off a piece and take a bite, that feeling is affirmed.
“Wow,” I say.
“Right?” He pours himself some coffee, then adds milk and a tiny bit of sugar. “We served them at the brewery one weekend in January, as a pairing with our barrel-aged imperial stout. I’d open one for you now if it weren’t ten in the morning.”
“I’ve never really thought about beer and food pairings.” Though I am intrigued.
“It’s also good with chocolate. Or you can pour it over vanilla ice cream—a grown-up float.”
“That all sounds amazing.”
I lick some cream-cheese icing off my fingers. I can’t care about being polite when I’m not wearing pants. Besides, it’s fun to hold Cam’s gaze as I slide my finger into my mouth. His eyes narrow, and his breathing hitches.
I’m a little different when I’m with him. Better at truly enjoying myself and living in the moment—especially now thatmy earlier guilt has dissipated after more sex, a shower, and a gooey cinnamon bun. I also feel like Cam never wants me to be anyone but who I am, and I realize, with a start, that this wasn’t quite true of Dave.
I put those thoughts aside for later reflection.
“Have you done any other kinds of pairings?” I ask.
As I polish off my breakfast, Cam tells me about an event they did in November, a collaboration with a restaurant downtown. I wouldn’t want to do his job, but I like hearing about it. All the care he puts into getting things right. It’s fun to listen to people talk about what they love.
Once I wash the remnants of the cinnamon bun off my hands, I pour myself more coffee and return to my chair. I move it closer to his so I can rest my hand on his leg, feeling the need to touch him. I want all the leisurely Sunday mornings we can have together.
I remember one of the questions Cam asked me, the day I told him about the loop.What’s the very best thing you’ve eaten?If someone asked me that now, I might choose that cinnamon bun. Yes, it was objectively a well-crafted baked good, but it’s partly because of the association I’ll now have: the breakfast that he picked out for our first morning-after.
I know I’ll think of him whenever I smell fresh cinnamon buns.
38Cam
I find myself whistling as I clean the kitchen and vacuum the apartment, even though vacuuming is my least favorite chore. It’s not just because I had sex three times in the last twenty-four hours, though it had been a very long time since that happened. But spending so much time with Noelle Tom is just a lot of fun, and I can’t help but be in a great mood afterward.
Noelle doesn’t have what you’d call a bold personality. She’s not the sort of person who commands attention the moment she walks into the room. In fact, I think she’d hate it if that happened. She’s milder—but with a lot of depth.
And watching her enjoy herself is my new favorite thing.
When she goes out, she favors crisp dress shirts and nice sweaters, but the image of her with damp hair, wearing one of my T-shirts and enjoying a cinnamon bun at my kitchen table…
I don’t know why that was so erotic, but it was. I love seeing her when she’s relaxed. It felt like a treat, just for me.
And since it’s my day off, I decide to have another treat in the afternoon. I open a can of the Junction—our imperial stout, named after the last dry neighborhood in Toronto—and enjoy it with some dark chocolate as I watch a movie. It’s a good winter beer, as is the Retaliator Doppelbock, a collaboration we did with another brewery. They’re both seasonal offerings.
By the time Justin gets home, the movie is almost over and I’m slightly tipsy. When a beer is over 10 percent ABV, a tall can is a good amount.
“How was it?” he asks. “Have a good night?”
“Couldn’t make the curry, but yeah, it was fun.”
The credits are starting, so I pick up my phone to see if she’s texted. Justin knows exactly what I’m doing, and he rolls his eyes as he sits down on a recliner. I toss a pillow at him, careful to ensure there’s no danger of it hitting my nearly empty snifter. I don’t really care about his reaction, though. I’m in a great mood, and he can roll his eyes all he wants; it doesn’t bother me.
“Verygood, I see.” He smirks. “When did she leave?”
