Best Laid Plans (Garnet Run 2)

But it had been his first instinct to invite Charlie’s family into their love, and Charlie, who’d never been celebrated for anything, had been more moved than he could say.

Rye told them the story of the misbegotten laptop desk and Jack raised an eyebrow.

“I should get you one of those,” he told Simon.

“I’ll make one for you after I make mine,” Charlie told him.

Rye bit his lip, no doubt keeping himself from informing Charlie how wrong it was that he was going to make his own anniversary gift.

After pizza, Jean unveiled the most beautiful cookies Charlie had ever seen. They were individually decorated flowers, frosted in delicate swirls of pastel icing with silver streaks, glittering with sugar.

“The first anniversary is traditionally paper,” Jean said. “But who wants cookies that look like paper?”

They crunched the cookies delicately, all remarking that it seemed a pity to eat something so beautiful, until they tasted them, after which no one seemed to have a problem eating more.

After they’d eaten their fill and Rye had put on the new Theo Dekker album, Jack got up and went to the front door. He returned with a plain manila folder that he handed between Charlie and Jack.

“Happy anniversary, guys,” he said, sitting back beside Simon.

Charlie opened the folder and rested the contents on his knee between them.

Inside was a sheaf of papers that had been sewn into a little book. The cover sported hand lettering in Jack’s signature font that read: The Adventures of Marmot and Jane. A caret had been added at the end of the title, under which was lettered, And Murder Cat!

The cover image showed the three cats, Marmot and Jane curled up together in a ball, eyes looking up at the title and Redrum perched atop the letters looking like she was about to pounce.

“Oh my god,” Rye said worshipfully.

They read through the little comic together. The illustrations were more cartoony than the style Jack used in his children’s books; they were more like the style of the graphic novel he was nearly done with. He managed, as always, to portray real depth in the expressions of the animals.

The story was charming too. In it, Redrum had recruited Marmot and Jane to her nefarious attempt on the refrigerator. It loomed, gleaming, like the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey, just waiting for the cats to conquer it.

Working together, they toppled the refrigerator and feasted on its contents. The final page showed them all curled up together in a heap of furry paws and tails and ears, crumbs and bits of food surrounding them as they slept, dream bubbles above their heads as they dreamt of even more food.

Rye cracked up at how Jack had drawn each of the cats eating their favorite foods—Marmot with a chicken leg in her mouth, Jane with her face in a tub of yogurt, and Redrum chowing down absurdly on a wheel of brie.

“It’s wonderful,” Charlie told Jack, as Rye said, “Fucking awesome, thank you.”

Jack just smiled but Charlie could see how pleased his brother was. He’d always loved seeing people appreciate his work.

Jack, Simon, and Jean didn’t stay late, though. Jean’s allergy medicine only protected her from the animals for so long, and Jack and Simon clearly wanted to get home to their own animals, their own fireside, their own evening.

Once they’d seen everyone out into the rainy night with promises to get home safe and get together soon, Charlie and Rye were alone.

“It’s nice they all came over,” Rye said. “Was it weird for them to celebrate our anniversary?”

“Who cares, you loved it. You love anniversaries.”

Rye’s eyes widened and he looked like maybe he was going to deny it, but then he slumped and peeked up at Charlie.

“Yeah, I kinda do.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Rye shot him a look like, Isn’t it, though?

“Nah,” Charlie said. “It’s sweet. You love our anniversary, just own it.”

Rye huffed, but relaxed.

“Just own it,” was what Rye had repeatedly told Charlie to do. “You like to be spanked, hot stuff, just own it,” he’d said with a wink. “You’re a neat freak, just own it,” he’d said when they started sharing an office. “You hate hummus, just own it,” when Charlie had tried Rye’s over and over to no avail. And, more recently, “You love sucking my cock, just own it.” Charlie had flushed deeply at that one, but he’d had to admit that it was true.

Charlie had thought long and hard about an anniversary gift for Rye. He knew Rye would bristle at anything expensive or extravagant. He already felt that Charlie had given him too much for a lifetime.

He’d thought about grand romantic gestures involving rose petals and baths, but he was pretty sure they would just make Rye very uncomfortable. He had learned that while Rye loved small romantic gestures, anything too dramatic, anything that announced itself too loudly, made him cringe.