Love on the Menu

Andrew and Eric were best friends from the moment they met
in  kindergarten.  Andrew  thought  they  would  be  friends
forever—until they became more than friends. Until Eric kissed
him  goodbye  and  Andrew  never  heard  from  him  again.  Five
years  later,  just  days  before  Valentine's  Day,  the  very  last
person  Andrew  expects  to  see  walk  into  the  restaurant  where
he  works  is  the  man  he  never  forgot—the  man  he  has  no
intention of forgiving...

Kiss  Me  Quick  is  a  collection  of  short  and  sweet  stories  from
authors familiar and new, celebrating the season of love. Come
and  enjoy  these  tales  of  misunderstandings,  lonely  singles,
pining  lovers,  and  so  much  more!  Because  if  there  is  one  thing
that is never in doubt, it's that LT3 knows the way to your heart,
and these stories are a straight shot.

Love on the Menu
By May Ridge

Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

All  rights  reserved.    No  part  of  this  book  may  be  used  or
reproduced  in  any  manner  without  written  permission  of  the
publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

Edited by Samantha M. Derr
Cover designed by Megan Derr

This  book  is  a  work  of  fiction  and  as  such  all  characters  and
situations  are  fictitious.  Any  resemblance  to  actual  people,
places, or events is coincidental.

First Edition February 2012
Copyright © 2012 by May Ridge
Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 9781620041369

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– Love on the Menu

He knew from the first moment he met Eric that their

friendship was either going to be terrific—or devastating.

They were five years old and had just been introduced at

Kindergarten, been sat at a table for four, and were engaged in
a  staring  contest.  The  winner  of  the  contest  would  get  to  play
with the fire engine toy whilst the loser would get the racecar.
Andrew  was  determined  to  win;  red  was  his  favourite  colour.
Eric  cheated  though  and  pulled  a  face,  making  Andrew  laugh,
which made him forget not to blink.

Eric shared the fire engine in the end, which was a surprise

to Andrew. It was just like him.

Ten years later, they were both fifteen and in the same

math  class.  Andrew  hated  math,  whereas  Eric  loved  it.  He'd
offered  to  tutor  Andrew  several  times  since  grade  eight,  but
Andrew  preferred  to  just  get  Eric's  notes  when  he  was  done
with them. Eric didn't necessarily approve of this, but he'd sigh
and  smile  and  shake  his  head  at  Andrew  when  Andrew
continued to do it.

"I could tutor you so easily, you know," Eric told him. He

was twisted around in his chair, his arm resting on Andrew's
desk as Andrew frantically tried to copy Eric's notes over. "Then
we wouldn't be having this issue every class."

"I don't see an issue," Andrew retorted and dropped his pen

with a flourish, looking up to grin broadly at Eric. "See? All done!
And what's more, it's even legible this time."

"Yeah, because you know what you wrote," Eric replied,

squinting his eyes at the notebook on Andrew's desk. "I'm your
best friend and have been reading your chicken scratches for
years, and I can't make out a word of that."

"Because you're reading it upside down, obviously," Andrew

told him, rolling his eyes. Eric made to flip the notebook around,
but Andrew grabbed it up before he could even touch it,

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– Love on the Menu

grinning at him again. "Wouldn't want you to see any of the
answers, would we?"

Eric cast him a scathing glance, but Mr. Layton called their

attention up to the front of the class again, and he turned
around instead. Andrew started amusing himself by dropping
flecks of paper in Eric's wavy blonde hair.

After a minute though, a note dropped onto Eric's desk

instead, asking him for tutoring. That made Eric shoot Andrew a
smile over his shoulder, and Andrew smiled back.

Two years after that, Eric came out to him. It was something

he'd  been  half  expecting  since  he  understood  what  being  gay
meant.  It wasn't  a  big  deal.  It  certainly  didn't  change  anything.
Eric  was  still  a  math  whiz,  and  he  was  going  to  be  taking
engineering  or  something  at  college.  He  had  it  all  planned  out,
much to Andrew's affectionate annoyance.

Andrew still had no idea what he wanted.
It seemed slightly anticlimactic to Eric too. They'd been

playing video games, a game that was trying to be like Halo, and
was succeeding pretty decently. Eric had just thrown a grenade
at him, and Andrew was waiting to respawn at the beginning
again, judging the fastest way to the jeep he'd been killed in,
when Eric just said, "I'm gay, you know."

"I know," Andrew replied absently, and missed when he

shot at him.

And that had been that.
When they were nineteen, Eric moved away to a different

state to go to university. He left Andrew with a kiss and a phone
number he never answered and left Andrew devastated.

*~*~*

"Order up," Andrew called, even as he slid the plate under

the lamp. Alison was there within a second, grabbing the plate
with a quick word of thanks before disappearing into the dining
area. They were on the last stragglers of the night, and Andrew
was counting down minutes until the kitchen was called closed.

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– Love on the Menu

It had been a long day, and there was still the clean-up to

take care of. As careful as he and the other cooks were whilst
making the meals, there was always a mess left on the counters
by the sheer fact that sometimes there was just no time to
clean between.

He was just turning back to start cleaning up his station so

that  he  could  help  the  others  when  Alison  appeared  at  the
window  again.  "Hey  Andrew,  there's  a  guy  out  here  asking  for
you.  Pretty  hot  too,"  she  added,  waggling  her  eyebrows,  and
Andrew rolled his eyes at her.

"I'm not dating a customer," he told her. That had ended

badly the last time and left him without a job when the
customer had turned out to be a food critic.

"Who said anything about dating?" she retorted and

grinned at him as she headed back out.

Andrew rolled his eyes, but he was smiling to himself even

as  he  pulled  off  his  chef's  apron,  washing  his  hands  before  he
pushed his way through the door. Alison was helping a table by
the  counter,  but  she  nodded  towards  the  far  corner  of  the
dining  area.  It  was  the  most  secluded  part,  and  Andrew  let
himself grin even as he started to imagine the reasons why that
could be. His musing was cut short, however, when the man at
the table stood up and came towards him, smiling in a friendly
greeting that Andrew suddenly had no desire to reciprocate.

"Andrew … hey. It's been a while," he said, and Andrew

shifted his weight back, folding his arms.

"Hi Eric."
Eric looked mildly confused at his reception, and he glanced

around, his brow furrowing as he looked back at Andrew. "Is
this a bad time? Your mom said you usually got off around this
hour, so …"

Every time was a bad time when it came to Eric. It didn't

really help that Andrew's mother had given him the
information. It was just like her though, Andrew thought, and
sighed inwardly. "What do you want?"

Eric blinked at him. "Well, I'm back in town for a bit, so I

thought I'd just drop in and say hi."

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– Love on the Menu

He thought he'd just drop in and say hi. As if he had no idea

how he'd left Andrew, as if everything that had happened over
the past five years had never happened at all—as if Andrew had
forgiven him for all of it.

Still, never let it be said that he was the immature one.

"That was nice of you."

Eric grinned, the expression uncertain, but growing in

certainty with every minute.

Andrew didn't wait for him to say anything before

continuing, his voice as flat as he could possibly make it. He'd
think about all the other things that he wanted to say when he
was alone, and it wouldn't matter what he said. "But I have to
get back to work now. Have a nice life. You should try some of
the key lime pie, it's delicious. Thanks for stopping by!"

He turned and was walking away before Eric even had a

chance to say anything in response, and as far as he was
concerned, that was the end of it.

Not according to Eric, though. A hand grabbed his arm, and

Andrew spun around, wrenching it away from his ex-best-
friend's grip. "What?"

"What the hell is your problem?" Eric demanded, his green

eyes narrow and flashing anger at him.

"My problem? I'm not the one who comes waltzing into

your workplace 'just to say hi' when—" Andrew stopped. Took a
deep  breath.  Ran  his  hands  through  his  hair,  and  then  he
managed to paste a friendly, but blankly polite smile on his face
instead.  "Thank  you  for  gracing  us  with  your  presence.  We  are
always  pleased  to  serve.  Alison  would  be  happy  to  get  you
anything else you need."

The words were sharp and snarled by the end of the

recitation, and when Andrew turned to stalk back into the
kitchen again, Eric didn't follow him.

Alison barely waited until the door shut behind Eric before

turning up at the window again, her eyes huge behind her
glasses. "What was all that about?"

Andrew winced and carefully continued wiping his station

down with the cloth. He'd gone over it four times already, but it

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was the most calming thing he could think of to do while he was
still stuck at work. "Just an old friend."

Alison arched her eyebrows at him.
Andrew rolled his eyes. "Fine, an old friend and we weren't

parted amiably."

"Clearly," she said dryly, and Andrew scowled at her before

turning his concentration back to the counter. He thought she'd
gone after that, so he jumped when she spoke up again several
minutes later. "Did you want to talk about it?"

Andrew shrugged a shoulder and kept scrubbing for a

moment before he gave it up and straightened again. "Is there
still coffee left in the pot?"

She turned to look over her shoulder, then nodded at him.

"Want me to make you a cup?"

"Please," Andrew replied somewhat pitifully and dropped

the  dirty  cloth  in  the  sink  before  he  pushed  through  the  doors
again. Alison waved him over towards one of the empty booths.
The staff were cleaning up, wiping down tables and putting the
chairs  up  so  that  they  could  sweep  the  floor  before  leaving.  It
was  the  peaceful  moment  after  a  long,  hard  rush,  and  Andrew
took the time to enjoy it. The enjoyment was rather spoiled by
the fact that Eric was an asshole, but he refused to linger on the
thought.

Or at least, he tried his hardest to distract himself, with little

success.

Alison saved him, though, bringing with her two mugs of

dark coffee. It was only a little hotter than lukewarm, and
Andrew downed half of his in two gulps, heaving a sigh of
satisfaction as the caffeine hit his system.

"Almost ready for the holiday rush on Saturday?" Alison

asked, and Andrew had to give her credit for overriding her
insatiable curiosity with a commonplace topic while he gathered
up his nerve to talk.

Then again, the upcoming Valentine's Day wasn't really an

easy  topic  either.  They'd  switched  to  new  management  in  the
past  year,  so  this  was  the  first  time  changing  everything  about
the  restaurant  for  the  holiday.  Natalie  was  obsessed  over  the

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romance  of  it,  so  she  had  created  entirely  new  menu  items—
not very hard to make, but still not what they were used to. The
decorations would  be  going  up  all  night  the  night  before,  from
fancy  seat  coverings  with  bows  on  them,  to  new  centre  pieces
for the tables, handcrafted by Natalie's sister-in-law.

It had sounded like an interesting change when she'd told

them  about  it  just  after  New  Year's,  but  now  that  they  were
getting closer and closer to the rush, Andrew couldn't quite see
what  the  big  deal  about  the  holiday  was.  Especially  since  the
last  Valentine's  Day  he'd  actually  enjoyed  had  been  when  he
was nineteen—

"I think … I'll be glad when it's over. We'll have to see how

popular it is; see if we do it next year."

"Really?" Alison asked and cocked her head as she took a

delicate sip from her own mug. "I'm kind of looking forward to
it. It'll be terribly romantic, I think. Especially at night. You know
she wants to put white Christmas lights across the ceiling and
the only other lights will be the candles on the tables. I think it'll
look pretty spectacular myself."

Andrew nodded cautiously. Alison wasn't the type to take

her own opinions getting shot down lightly. But she always had
one to offer, and maybe Andrew just needed a fresh
perspective on Eric.

As if she'd recognized a subconscious cue, Alison turned her

head to look at him again, offering him a tiny smile of
encouragement. "So. Wanna talk about it?"

Andrew smiled back. "Well … we met in kindergarten …"

*~*~*

It had been a long day. The 12

of February, and Andrew's

shift  had  begun  at  seven  and  run  straight  through  to  4:30.  He
was  supposed  to  have  left  at  two,  but  he'd  been  roped  into
showing  a  few  of  the  other  kitchen  staff  members  how  they
were  supposed  to  be  arranging  the  food  differently  on  the
plates  on  Saturday.  He'd  left  them  fairly  pleased  with
themselves, and himself exhausted.

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He'd been too tired to cook at home after that; so he'd gone

to a closer house for a quick refill of food that was always
delicious, always prepared, and there was always plenty of it.

"Ma, I'm home," he called even as he bent to pat the fat cat

that  had  waddled  up  to  him  upon  walking  through  the  door.
George was the biggest and oldest cat he'd ever known. He was
also  convinced  that  he  was  at  least  part  dog,  a  fact  that
endlessly amused Andrew and his mother. He'd been around for
most  of  Andrew's  childhood,  and  even  if  he  was  more  round
than anything, there was a certain sort of cat dignity behind it.

Dropping down onto his haunches, Andrew started talking

to  the  cat,  scratching  under  George's  chin  until  George  closed
his  eyes  blissfully  and  started  drooling,  rumbling  like  a  motor
engine. Andrew grinned to see it. He was so wrapped up in the
cat,  though,  that  he  didn't  notice  the  sneakers  just  behind
George until Eric spoke again.

"I guess you still have those magic fingers."
Andrew stifled his shock ruthlessly and refused to look up,

directing his words to George even as he meant them for Eric.
"Yes, and what is that nasty man doing over here, who let him
in, I wonder, and how dare he mention anything to do with my
hands after everything—"

Eric sighed. "Andrew."
Andrew shot him a glare, and then dropped his hands to

push himself up onto his feet, refusing to be at such a low
disadvantage. "What do you want, Eric?"

"I just want to talk to you. Is that a crime now?"
Andrew glared at him and pushed past, deliberately

knocking his shoulder against Eric as he made his way through
to the kitchen. His mother was there, and she looked up,
beaming to see him when she came around the counter to give
him a tight hug. "There you are! Eric's come to visit, dear."

"I noticed," Andrew replied dryly.
Eric coughed awkwardly from the doorway. "As for that,

Mrs. Anderson, I should probably be going—"

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– Love on the Menu

"Nonsense. You're going to stay for dinner," she scolded

and gave Andrew an eagle eyed steely look. "Why don't you set
the table, dear? Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."

He'd come home because he knew his mother always

cooked as if people would be turning up for dinner—but he
hadn't expected to have to lay the table, or be prepared to
entertain other guests, especially guests whom he hadn't heard
from in over five years and who had once been more than just a
guest or a friend, or however Eric was calling himself now.

But no one could argue with his mother when she was in

that kind of mood, so Andrew just grabbed up the plates and
the cutlery his mother had already left on the counter for him,
and pushed past Eric on his way to the dining room. Eric
followed him in, and stood nervously in the doorway, watching
while Andrew put the things into place.

"You can sit down, you know," he told Eric roughly after

he'd gotten tired of the whole being watched feeling. "My
mother's already invited you, so you're staying."

"You still don't seem very happy about it," Eric said slowly.
Andrew scoffed and put the last knife down harder than

he'd meant to, making the glass on the table top shudder. "No,
whatever might have given you that impression? I come for a
nice relaxing meal and find—"

"Me."
"You," Andrew agreed and turned away to the sideboard,

pulling open the cupboard doors to grab out some napkins.
"And I'd appreciate it if you didn't stay any longer than you have
to."

Eric laughed a little, to Andrew's surprise. "You really hate

me now, don't you?"

"Hate's a very strong word …" Andrew replied slowly and

turned as he nudged the door closed with his hip. "And yes, I'd
say it was accurate."

Eric's grin faded. "Look, Andrew …"
Andrew shook his head. "Ma," he called loudly, his eyes

locked on Eric's, a distinct challenge in them. "Table's ready."

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– Love on the Menu

"So is the food," she called back happily, and Andrew shot

Eric a sarcastic smile.

"Guess you'd better sit down as the guest. We'll be out with

the food in a minute."

Eric flushed a little, something Andrew regarded with a

certain  sense  of  triumph.  Guests  were  never  allowed  to  help
with  the  chores  in  his  house—but  family  was.  Eric  had  been
helping  Andrew  with  his  chores  since  he  was  seven  years  old.
The  demotion  would  surely  sting,  and  that  was  all  Andrew
wanted.

Yet somehow, the victory didn't feel as good as he'd hoped

when he moved past Eric back into the kitchen, and all Eric did
was sit heavily in the chair.

*~*~*

Dinner wasn't as uncomfortable as he might have thought,

mainly because his mother had known both of them as her son
and adoptive son at one point; and there was also the fact that
she  was  a  rather  fabulous  hostess.  She  could—and  did—keep
the  conversation  flowing  past  the  awkward  silences,  where
Andrew  concentrated  on  his  food  and  tried  not  to  notice  the
fact that Eric was staring at him.

They were done with supper sooner than Andrew had

thought, and he was gathering his plate and his mother's to take
to the kitchen when Eric interrupted him. "Andrew? Can I have
a word with you?"

Andrew glanced at Eric and hesitated before opening his

mouth to refuse when his mother answered for him. "Of course,
he'd be happy to talk to you. Go talk, Andy, I'll get the plates,"
she told him, and stood to give him a little push. Andrew
hesitated another minute and then gave her the plates, glancing
at Eric and jerking his head in the direction of his old room. His
mom would give them privacy there, at least—she always had.

Eric followed him in silently, and Andrew took the time to

watch him; paying attention to how Eric noticed everything
about the room, moving from wall to wall and checking out his

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shelves and posters—some of them from when he was a child
and some of them from college, which Eric would never have
had an opportunity to see.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Andrew asked,

getting  tired  of  seeing  Eric  touch  his  things.  He  was  currently
looking  over  one  of  Andrew's  graduation  from  college  gifts,  a
tiny bear barely the size of Andrew's hand.  He reached over to
take it from Eric and put it firmly back where it belonged.

Eric sighed. "Is it something I specifically did to upset you, or

are you just throwing a typical bitchfest at me?"

Andrew stared at him blankly; a little stunned that Eric

would  describe  it  like  that.  Eric  stared  back,  then  his  mouth
curved  into  a  smile,  and  he  stepped  closer,  lifting  his  hands  to
frame Andrew's face.

Then he was kissing him.
The first time they'd kissed, they had been eighteen years

old, and about to leave for prom. Both had 'dates', female
friends who they'd agreed to go in a group in. The girls only
wanted someone to dance with, and Andrew and Eric had only
been interested in the fact that their parents were making them
go.

They hadn't been particularly caring of what they wore until

Eric  turned  up  in  Andrew's  room  wearing  a  tux,  and  suddenly
Andrew hadn't been able to take his eyes off of him. Eric hadn't
noticed, or at least, he'd noticed only after he was able to drag
his  eyes  away  from  Andrew's  outfit,  and  when  he  finally  lifted
his  gaze  to  meet  Andrew's  eyes,  his  cheeks  had  been  slightly
flushed.  His  wavy  blonde  hair  was  in  its  usual  disarray  and  his
eyes darker than usual, and he'd said something to compliment
Andrew—and Andrew hadn't really heard him over the sudden
pounding of his heart.

And then it was a little hazy, but they'd been kissing, his

hands in Eric's hair, and Eric's hands snatching at his hips, trying
to drag him closer, and it had been nothing but heat and want
and something so right it actually ached in Andrew's chest when
he'd had to pull away.

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It ached when he pulled away this time too, his eyes wide

and horrorstruck as he stared at Eric, who for once didn't look
nearly as composed as he usually did. "What the hell was that?"

Eric hesitated, then licked his lips. "I—I was hoping that—"
"Hoping what?" Andrew retorted cruelly. "That you could

just waltz back into my life and expect everything to be the
same as it was before you left for college and forgot all about
me?"

Eric kept staring at him and then paled, looking horrified.

"Wha—that's not what happened—"

"Oh, then you must be remembering a different time. Like

an imagined time when you actually called or wrote even just
once over those four years?"

Eric bit his lip, then opened his mouth again to speak, but

Andrew didn't want to hear any excuses. It was far too late for
that, and he didn't want to know at all anymore. He was passed
that relationship and how it had felt to be completely forgotten.
"Just get out, Eric."

He could still feel Eric's body pressed against his own.
"Andrew—"
Andrew didn't wait any longer. He turned and left himself.
Eric didn't stop him.

*~*~*

"Order up!"
Alison appeared with her usual promptness before

disappearing back into the crowd with the food without even a
thank you, although she had time to shoot Andrew a harassed
smile.

The restaurant was full, every table taken, and the bar was

full of people waiting their forty five minute wait for a spot. The
Valentine's Day theme had gone over really well with everyone
so far. Natalie had done a stellar job with advertising, and all the
food was getting complimented as well. It was right in the
middle of the dinner rush, and the hired musicians that Natalie
had hired for the evening were busy serenading tables with

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their violins, taking requests when given, and playing soft,
sweet melodies when no one had any requests.

That was why he was so surprised when they started

playing Bon Jovi's Livin' on a Prayer. That was not romantic by
any strength of the imagination, but Andrew liked it a hell of a
lot better than the drivel they'd been playing. After the last few
days he had had, romance was as dead as could be for him, and
he had no intention of rekindling sparks, whatever Alison might
have said.

He was humming as he finished dicing the chicken, his knife

flying, lost in the routine of the cooking as well as the song until
someone cleared their throat by the window.

Andrew looked up and fell into green eyes before he yanked

himself out of it. "You again? I thought I made it clear?"

"Come on," Alison said as she came through the door, and

she grabbed Andrew's arm and dragged him through the doors
to leave him face to face with Eric. He was backed by the violin
players, and Andrew gave them all a disbelieving look. "Are you
fucking serious?"

"Deadly," Eric answered. He was pale, but his face was

determined. "I—have a lot of things to apologise for."

"You think this is going to help?" Andrew sneered, but he

couldn't deny the way his heart had started to pound faster.
Not because of the music, or the violins, or anything like that,
but because Eric looked genuinely sorry, and—no.

No he was not going to listen to it.
"I'm taking five," he told Alison shortly and stormed back

into the kitchen, pushing past the other cooks and straight
through the back entrance. It didn't smell pleasant out here; the
dumpster with all the food waste would be waiting to be picked
up sometime in the early morning, but anything was better than
being inside with him.

At least, that was what Andrew thought until the door

opened, and Eric pushed through. Andrew rolled his eyes. "Am I
never going to get rid of you?"

"Would you just hear me out?" Eric snapped, his face

flushed. "It can't possibly hurt you to listen, right?"

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"I don't know. It sure hurt when you weren't listening."
"I had a reason for that!" Eric retorted and bit his lip again,

visibly trying to calm down. "Look, I know it was an asshole
thing to do to you—"

"Glad we got that straight. I'm going to go inside and finish

my—"

"Would you let me finish?" Eric yelled, and that stopped

them  both  short.  Andrew  hadn't  seen  Eric  yell  for  years.  He'd
always been the calmer one, the one more inclined to share the
fire  engine  rather  than  continue  to  fight  over  it.  He  hated
fighting.

Andrew sighed, then leaned back against the wall of the

building, gesturing at Eric to continue. He would hear him out,
and then maybe Eric would leave him alone again.

Eric drew in a deep breath. "Right, so … My father died a

few months ago."

"My mom told me," Andrew said pointedly, then softened.

"I was sorry to hear it. He was a good dad."

Eric nodded. "Yeah, he was. And—that's where it starts,

really. My dad wanted grandchildren."

Andrew blinked.
Eric folded his lips together, then shoved a hand through his

hair. "He was a good father. But he wanted grandchildren that
were mine, and—and I felt bad that I couldn't give them to him.
So," he went on quickly, before Andrew could protest, "when I
left for college, I took an opportunity."

"All right …"
Eric flushed and looked away, scratching his head

awkwardly.  "I—kind  of  pretended  I  was  straight,"  he  said  in  a
rush,  the  last  little  bit  so  quiet  that  Andrew  almost  missed  it
entirely. For a moment he didn't think he had heard it correctly.

But then, when Eric still didn't meet his gaze, Andrew

nodded  slowly,  struggling  to  keep  control  of  his  temper.  Eric
took  the  lack  of  response  as  a  go-ahead  and  continued.  "And
you—you were stuck back here. And I couldn't even think about
pretending  when  I  couldn't  forget  you.  So,  whenever  I  got  an
email or a letter or a phone call …"

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"You ignored me," Andrew said slowly and arched his

eyebrows. "You ignored me for four—no, five fucking years,
Eric. I thought you'd died, and then your father kept coming
over to share your happy university news, and I felt like an idiot
because you'd never mentioned any of it to me. And then—he
started talking about that girl—"

"She wasn't—she was just a friend. I couldn't even look at

anyone after you. How could I?"

"I don't know, Eric. How could you? I mean, it's not like you

pretended not to know me for five years. Acted as if I didn't
exist."

Eric was biting his lip again. "I just—fine. I did an asshole

thing, and I'm sorry, okay? I thought I could forget what we had,
and I couldn't. I wrote you every day for two years. I still have
those letters—"

"Because you never sent them."
"He was my father. I at least owed it to him to try, didn't I?

And then—and then I couldn't imagine starting a conversation
with you. I've been trying to find a way to contact you for years,
Andrew. But now—"

"What's so special about this year then?"
Eric shrugged. "Your mom said you'd found a new job, a

better one. And Valentine's Day always was your favourite."

Andrew frowned at him, then looked away, scowling at the

ground.  He  hated  to  admit  it  to  himself,  but  his  anger  was
draining  away.  He  tried  to  hold  onto  it,  but  he  couldn't  quite
manage.  Eric  had  always  been  able  to  persuade  him to  change
his mind.

"Andrew … please. Can you just give me a chance? It's

Valentine's Day. Give me a chance to make it up to you?"

Andrew sighed, then shoved his hands through his hair. "I

suppose I could let you try. You're an idiot, and your father
would have been happy with any child, adopted or not, you
know."

"I was young and stupid," Eric agreed fervently. "And a little

scared of how much I loved you."

20 | May Ridge

– Love on the Menu

Andrew arched his eyebrows at him, then rolled his eyes.

"Really Eric? We haven't even had our first date yet."

"It is the day of love," Eric reminded him with a cheesy grin

and stepped closer. "Can I kiss you now?"

"I'd have to get back to work in a minute, but yeah … if you

want."

"Oh, I do," Eric murmured, and he hesitated at the last

minute, lips inches from Andrew's. "Andrew … I really am
sorry."

"Shut up," Andrew told him and angled his head to kiss him,

hands snatching at his waist as his mouth curved into a smile.

Eric smiled back.

Fin

About the Author

When  she  isn't  writing  or  reading,  May  Ridge  potters  around
libraries  looking  for  ideas  to  spring  forth  from  the  shadows
between  the  stacks.  When  she  has  time  to  break  from  her
imaginary world to take part in real life, she involves herself in
work  surrounded  by  books.  She  started  writing  slash  as
fanfiction,  and  expanded  to  creating  her  own  characters  to
torture with love. Her greatest dream is to have a home library
like  the  one  that  was  showcased  in  Disney's  Beauty  and  the
Beast.