A wide grin stretched across Mason’s face. “I can make a pot roast. It might even be better than Nadine’s.”
Sky looked concerned. “That better not be true because we’re both in trouble if Nadine finds out.”
Chapter Nineteen
He made me a plate.
As Mason had promised, his pot roast was perfect. But the answer to the mystery of Sky’s dream plate had left him even more baffled and in need of a long run the following morning. The mystery of the plate began three days after Sky arrived when his dinner was served to him on the most beautiful divided plate he had ever seen. It was round and ceramic and had a large section at the bottom and two smaller sections on top, and it had been glazed in soothing shades of gray.
Most divided plates were for children and were in bold, primary colors or had characters on them. Many of them wererectangularfor some reason. Sky didn’t like that because he wasn’t in elementary school anymore. And they were often smaller, flimsy, and made of cheap materials.
Not this plate. It had a lovely weight to it and Sky found the variations in the gray glaze soothing when it was empty.
Where the plate had come from was a mystery because there weren’t many places to buy a plate in Roseview, but Sky had checkedthem all after his morning runs. There weren’t any dishes in the hardware store, aside from metal camping mugs and trays. He checked the antique stores as well, but no one could recall seeing anything similar to the picture he had taken.
Finally, after devouring thebestpot roast he had ever eaten in his life, a baked potato with butter, and raw carrots, then licking it clean, Sky remembered to ask Mason about the plate.
“Did you order this online? I’ve been looking everywhere, but I can’t find another one of these. Will anyone be mad if I steal this?”
“You don’t have to steal it, it’s yours,” Mason said as he gathered the rest of their dirty dishes.
Sky cheered and hugged it. “Yes! Where did it come from, I need a backup and whatever they have that matches.”
“Sorry, that’s the only one of its kind. I stopped by Casey Bishop’s studio the day before you came and asked if she could make something like that on the off chance you accepted an invitation to dinner. She said she’d teach me and I’ve always wanted to learn so I jumped at the offer. I had a blast, but I didn’t realize it would take almost four days to cook that in the kiln,” Mason explained. “If you turn it over and look really close, your name and the year are hidden under the rim at around eleven o’clock.”
“You made this?” Sky flipped it over and searched until he found them and stared, too moved to say much more.
Sky couldn’t remember Masonevermaking fun of him or treating him like he was less because he was different. Mason had always embraced and defended Sky’s “weirdness” and had always been mindful of his sensitivities. So had Sarina, but that was expected from a sister. Mason didn’t have to be reminded about the things Sky wouldn’t eat, or how he took his coffee, or that strawberry Jell-O was his secret, all-purpose antidote. For some reason he had and Mason understood that Sky preferred his foods assingle textures and separate flavors, and that he had a specific order for eating things.
“It was a lot of fun. We can go and you can make one yourself. Casey said I could come over whenever and bring you, Sam, and Sina.”
“No!” Sky held the plate up with both hands. “It wouldn’t be like this one! Nothing will.”
He had cried because he was happy to have something so perfect and beautiful that made him feel safe and loved. And he cried because the plate was like their time together, a thing that could only happen once and could never be duplicated. They could go back to Casey Bishop’s studio and try to do everything exactly the same but the first plate would always be more beautiful and hold infinitely more value to Sky because Mason had made it for him.
Once their dishes were cleaned and the leftovers were put away, Sky dropped to his knees and gave Mason the best blowjob of his life in front of the sink. Unable to wait, Mason had hauled Sky to his feet and backed him into the island. Mason pulled out his stool and gave it a pat, then helped Sky sit and scoot back until his ass was hanging off the seat. A bottle of olive oil was snatched off the counter and Sky’s joggers and briefs were pushed down before he was swiftly and deeply fucked.
“I’ll think of this every morning while I’m sitting here, drinking my coffee and reading the paper,” Mason rumbled in Sky’s ear, then lowered behind him and licked him clean.
Was it any wonder that Sky had woken up, still tingling from the orgasm and a little weepy over the plate? Mason had stayed the night again, wrapping Sky in his stupidly comforting arms, playing with his hair and strumming his back until he fell asleep, the big jerk. Luckily, Sky was able to slip away and sneak out for a run and some time to think.
Instead of returning after his run, Sky sent Mason a message saying that he was having breakfast with Nadine and would leave before his mother woke up. He was hoping for a break, but Nadine was onto him as soon as he let himself into the kitchen.
“What happened? Did you do something?” She pushed him into his chair at the table and grabbed his chin. “Why are you so worried?”
“I’m not worried! I didn’t like the pot roast,” he said with a hard shake of his head.
“Don’t you lie to me, young man. I can tell that you haven’t been sleeping and you think you’re in trouble.”
He hadn’t been sleeping but there was no way he was telling Nadine why. There was nothingtechnicallywrong with what he and Mason were doing, but Sky would probably cry if he talked about it. He wasn’t enjoying all the legal and financial meetings he’d had to sit through, either, and all the decisions he and Sarina had to make. He decided to complain about that instead.
“I had better not be in trouble, I haven’t done anything but sign whatever our lawyers and accountants put in front of me since Nana died.”
“Which lawyers and accountants?” Nadine asked suspiciously.
“The ones Sina and Mom use.”
“Good. They might be sharks but they take good care of their clients and their money and keep themoutof jail.” She prepared him a cup of coffee and set it in front of him. “What are you stressing about? Your mother says that everything’s fine with Sarina and Mason now.” She was watching him over her shoulder as she opened the pantry and began gathering ingredients, including maple syrup. “Bacon or sausage?” she asked him, instantly lifting his mood.