Becoming Ted

by Matt Cain

Genres: General Fiction; Romance

Synopsis

Ted Ainsworth has always worked at his family's ice-cream business in the quiet Lancashire town of St Luke's-on-Sea._x000D_
But the truth is, he's never wanted to work for the family firm - he doesn't even like ice-cream, though he's never told his parents that. When Ted's husband suddenly leaves him, the bottom falls out of his world._x000D_
But what if this could be an opportunity to put what he wants first? This could be the chance to finally follow his secret dream: something Ted has never told anyone…

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 400

Sample

Ted Ainsworth lets out a contented sigh. As he contemplates the scene before him, a grin creeps over his face.

It’s Sunday morning, and he and his husband, Giles, are at home in their super king-size bed, Ted propped up on a stack of gunmetal-gray pillows, Giles curled up around the matching duvet. They woke up an hour ago, and Ted browsed ideas for their next holiday destination on his iPad while Giles flicked through messages on his phone. Then Ted went downstairs to make a pot of coffee and came back to find Giles had dozed off. So he crept back into bed, eager to savor every second of what, for him, was the ideal Sunday.

He leans in closer to check if Giles is asleep. “Smiles,” he whispers, the pet name he’s used since the two of them got together nearly twenty years ago. “Smiles!”

There’s no response; he’s definitely asleep.

Ted sips his coffee and allows himself a moment to admire his husband. With his dark coloring and designer stubble, Giles has always been good-looking, but Ted thinks his looks may have gotten even better since he entered his forties. It was around this time that he started growing his hair and stepped up his activities in the gym. Two years later, the results of both are clear to see—in the thick, lush locks fanning out on his pillow and the muscular bicep poking out from under the duvet, a bicep Giles recently had decorated with the tattoo of a swallow mid-flight. Ted feels his heart give a little wobble. Wow. He really is gorgeous.

Not for the first time, Ted wonders how he managed to bag himself such an amazing husband. Whichever way he looks at it, he and Giles are leagues apart. While Giles is sexy and charismatic, Ted is sweet and shy. While Giles is the manager of a stylish, hip hotel in the center of Manchester, Ted works for his family’s ice-cream business, running the shop and café on the high street in Saint Luke’s-on-Sea, a sleepy little Lancashire seaside town. And while Giles regularly makes strangers on the street swivel around to get a better look at him, Ted’s presence usually goes unnoticed.

But is it any wonder? There isn’t anything remotely remarkable about Ted. He’s forty-three years old, of average height, with a smattering of freckles on his cheeks and a physique that could best be described as a “dad bod”—if the dad in question broke out in hives at the sight of an exercise bike and every lunchtime was gripped by an irresistible craving for a meat-and-potato pasty. He has pale-gray eyes and hair his mum often says is the color of a perfect batch of coffee ice cream. Except Ted knows from experience that nobody likes coffee ice cream, not even people who like coffee. Besides, that flavor comes out a dull, weak brown, while Giles’s hair is the rich, luxurious brown of chocolate, Ainsworth’s most popular flavor. It’s set off by his equally rich brown eyes and two little moles on his left cheekbone. Not unsightly, unsexy freckles like Ted’s; more like those delicious little chocolate drops people love to sprinkle on their ice cream.

God, I’m so lucky. So lucky, so chuffed and so grateful.

Ted wants to snuggle up to his husband, but stretched out between them is their dog, Lily. A brown-and-black short-haired terrier crossbreed, Lily is usually desperate to be taken for a walk first thing in the morning, but today seems happy to snooze. Ted knows he’ll have to take her out soon but doesn’t want to disturb her, especially when she slides under the crook of Giles’s arm. Without opening his eyes, Giles pulls her in closer, and their breathing slowly falls into sync. Ted’s heart gives another wobble.

He finishes his coffee and puts his cup on the side, as quietly as he can so he doesn’t wake them. It’ll be a shame if Giles’s coffee goes cold, but he can always go back downstairs and make him a fresh pot. This isn’t something he’d admit to his colleagues at work—women who often moan about their inattentive men, many of whom expect to be waited on—but Ted actually likes waiting on Giles. How could I not when he looks like this?

Ted wants to take a picture, but his phone is on the opposite side of the room, on top of the chest of drawers. Giles’s, on the other hand, is resting on the duvet. He grabs it, flicks up the camera, and snaps off a few pics.

He goes into the photo album to see how they’ve turned out and starts swiping through. They’re lovely, so lovely he considers having one of them printed and put in a frame or using one as his screensaver. Then he accidentally swipes too far and stumbles upon a picture he didn’t take. Wait . . . what’s this?

It’s a picture of a man he doesn’t recognize. He swipes again and the man’s clothes disappear.

Shit.

He swipes one more time and is confronted by the sight of the man’s genitals.

What the hell?

Just as he’s reassuring himself that they’re probably pics of some hook-up one of Giles’s friends sent him, he swipes onto an image of the same man standing next to Giles. Giles has his arm around the man. Their cheeks are pressed together. And Giles has a big smile on his face.

The sight rips at Ted’s heart. He drops the phone onto the bed as if it’s on fire.

Shit, what am I supposed to do? Should I say something?

It turns out it isn’t his decision to make. He looks up and sees Giles staring directly at him.

“Ted,” he says, solemnly, “we need to talk.”

“Sorry. I thought you were asleep,” Ted stammers. His heart is pounding so violently, he struggles to get his words out.

“No,” says Giles. “And I’ve been meaning to bring this up for a while.”

Ted swallows. “I don’t understand. Bring what up?”

Giles props himself up on the pillows, revealing the trail of stars he recently had tattooed across his chest muscles. He lifts the phone off the bed and gives a little grimace. “I’m sorry, but I’ve met someone else.”

Ted feels as if he’s been shot. “W-w-what do you mean, you’ve met someone else?”

“It’s someone I met through work,” Giles continues, his eyes flitting down to the phone. “I wasn’t looking for anything—I swear. It just sort of happened. And before I knew it, we were seeing each other.”

Ted feels woozy, as if he’s stood up too quickly. He blinks several times. This can’t be happening.

Whatever you do, don’t let this happen!

Then another voice strikes up. Oh, it’ll blow over. Or maybe you could learn to live with it. Apparently lots of people have open relationships . . .

But he stops himself. He knows just how much he’d hate sharing Giles with anyone else.

Then again, it would have to be better than losing him completely. Anything would be better than that.

“Well, that’s not necessarily the end of the world,” Ted manages, his voice cracking. “I’m sure we can work through it.”

Giles looks up from the phone and into Ted’s eyes. “No. I’m in love with him, Ted. I’m leaving you. I want to be with Javier.”

Panic tightens Ted’s throat. “No!” he bleats, aware of how pathetic he sounds. “Don’t say that! Please don’t say that!”

But Giles doesn’t reply.

“We’ve been together nearly twenty years,” Ted continues. “How can you just throw that away? Can’t we just slow down and talk about this?”

Giles massages his temples. “I’m sorry, Ted, but I’ve made up my mind. And Javier’s been patient for a long time. I can’t keep him waiting anymore.”

Oh God, so this isn’t a new thing.

Ted falls back onto the pillows. He wonders why he didn’t spot something was wrong when Giles started getting those tattoos. Why he wasn’t suspicious when Giles became obsessed with the gym and was posting pictures of his physique online. Why he didn’t worry when he started coming back from Manchester with bags full of new clothes. How could I have been so stupid?

Now that he thinks about it, though, it all makes sense.

At the start of their relationship, Giles worked in junior positions at various hotels in St. Luke’s-on-Sea. Eventually, he was offered a job at the Westcliff, the town’s most exclusive hotel, and slowly worked his way up until he was appointed manager. But after a few years, he started to feel restless and began looking around for a job in a bigger hotel out of town. Then Covid struck, and he had to shelve his ambitions. He was put on furlough and didn’t work at all for months. Neither did Ted during the first lockdown, but after that the shop reopened for takeout orders only. While this wasn’t ideal, it at least gave him something to do. Giles, on the other hand, spent all day at home—feeling held back, feeling contained, feeling trapped. And brooding.

He became listless and distant. And the affection he showed Ted faded like a photo in sunlight. Ted pretended not to notice, reassuring himself it was just a temporary consequence of the pandemic. If you believed what you heard in the media, plenty of relationships were struggling. Then, gradually, the pandemic started to recede and, one by one, restrictions were lifted. When the hospitality industry finally reawakened, Giles managed to secure a job running a fashionable boutique hotel in Manchester. He became noticeably happier—and Ted thought their unacknowledged little rough patch was over.

But now he’s gone and met this Javier.

“So how long has this been going on for?” Ted asks.

“About nine months now,” Giles answers. “But the truth is, I already knew something wasn’t right between us. In fact, I’m not sure it ever was.”

Ted lets out a little breath, as if he’s been punched in the stomach.

Well, this had to happen sometime. I couldn’t fool him forever. I’m surprised he stuck with me for so long.

Giles inches closer, and Ted can just about make out the scent of his rich, woody aftershave lingering from the day before. “With you and me, it was about . . .” He pauses to search for the right word. “Convenience.”

“Convenience?”

“Yeah. It just kind of suited everyone. But now I’ve met Javier, and I can see that I’ve just been watching the world through a window. I was never quite in it, never really taking part. Do you know what I mean?”

No, I don’t know what you mean. I thought we were happy. I thought we were in love.

Ted turns to face him. “But what about our world?” he pleads, repulsed by the note of desperation in his voice. “What about our home? What about Lily?”

Giles rubs his jaw. “I don’t know. I don’t know about any of that—there’s still lots I’ve got to work out. All I know is, I feel like life’s been passing me by while me and you have been stuck in this quiet little seaside town full of old people. Having our takeout and movie nights. Maybe going to a restaurant once a month. And all the time looking forward to our next holiday.”

“But we love going on holiday,” Ted mewls. “We love going off and having adventures.”

“Yeah, but that’s not enough, Ted. I want an adventure full-time. I want to go off and live!”

Ted sits forward and grabs hold of Giles’s hands. “I’ll change, Smiles. I’ll give you as many adventures as you want. All day, every day. I promise I’ll make our life more exciting!”

Giles shakes himself free and stands up.

“I’ll go to the gym!” Ted squeals. “I’ll get myself in shape. Would that help?”

But Giles doesn’t respond. He opens his closet and starts pulling out clothes.

“What are you doing?” Ted asks.

“Packing my things.”

“What, now? You’re leaving now?”

Giles shrugs. “I might as well. There’s no point prolonging it.”

Ted rushes to the edge of the bed.

Please don’t leave me. Whatever you do, don’t leave me!

He considers throwing himself at Giles, clinging to him so tightly that he can’t leave. But he stops himself.

It isn’t pride that holds him back—far from it. It’s simply the knowledge that it won’t make any difference. Because I had this coming all along. Giles pretty much said that.

He feels defeated. He feels broken. He feels ransacked inside. And he has no idea what to do.

Lily jumps off the bed and barks.

“It sounds like she’s ready for her walk,” Giles says.

Ted nods, his head feeling like a dead weight. This all seems eerily unreal, like he’s stepped out of his body and is watching from a distance as somebody else plays his role.

He can’t believe that less than half an hour ago, he’d thought he was having the ideal Sunday. He can’t believe that just a few minutes ago he was feeling lucky, he was feeling chuffed with his life. Then—just like that—it turns into the worst day ever. And one from which he isn’t sure he’ll ever recover.

The following morning, when Ted sets off to the beach, his whole body feels laden down with sadness. All he can do is slope along, lugging one foot in front of the other. He tries to quicken his step but can’t. If it wasn’t for Lily pulling him along, he might even come to a halt.

At the end of his quiet residential street, he turns the corner and emerges onto a wider road that leads down to the seafront. He passes a café with a board in the window advertising pensioner specials, a dealership for mobility scooters with a row of them lined up outside, and a shop selling antiques and bric-a-brac, its window stuffed full of ornaments Ted can’t help thinking belong in a skip.

A few paces further on, Lily squats on the pavement for a wee. Ted has to step out of the way as a river of urine flows past him and into the gutter. For a moment, he stands still, mesmerized by it. Then Lily pulls at her lead, and he allows himself to follow.

“Alright, Lil,” he says, mournfully. “Let’s get to that beach.”

Ted and Giles brought Lily to live with them ten years ago, although Ted has no idea how old she is as she was a rescue dog. It took him months to persuade Giles to get a dog, then Giles wanted to buy a French bulldog—until they heard all kinds of horror stories about the operations the dogs needed just to breathe properly. Ted suggested they pop along to the local sanctuary, under the guise of “looking for ideas,” where they were introduced to a parade of cute dogs, all of which had been abandoned or mistreated by their owners, each of them pleading for a new home—including, right at the end, the as-yet-unnamed Lily.

She wasn’t a cute dog and never has been: her teeth are as yellow as a slab of cheap Cheddar cheese, one of her ears stands up and the other flops over, and she has weapons-grade halitosis. But Ted couldn’t help noticing that none of the other visitors were stopping to pet her. He felt a rush of emotion he was convinced was love at first sight but may just have been empathy. He promptly announced that they’d found the dog for them, and Giles didn’t argue. Nor did he argue when Ted wanted to name her after his favorite drag queen, Lily Savage. In any case, she soon proved herself to be such an affectionate dog that Giles fell in love with her too. And even though, from the start, Ted was the one to get up early and take her for walks, to feed her and pick up her freshly laid turds, he’s always known she prefers Giles.

Giles.

Giles, who’s just left me.

Giles, who said things were never quite right between us.

He feels an ache in the core of his gut. He tries to ignore it and plods on.

It’s a long road, lined on either side by late Regency terraces painted in a range of pretty pastels and containing small hotels, bed-and-breakfasts or guesthouses. These have columns of bow or curved bay windows, a wrought iron balcony stretching along the first floor, and a short flight of steps leading up from the street to the entrance. The pavements before them are divided by rows of trees and flowerbeds that have recently been replanted with pansies, geraniums, and petunias. Sights like these serve as a reminder that in its day, St. Luke’s-on-Sea was considered smart and genteel; the masses of mill and factory workers from the industrial towns around Lancashire preferred to take their holidays in the much more buzzing Blackpool, just up the coast. But that day has long since passed. The paint is peeling off the façade of several of the hotels, some of the awnings bearing their names are ripped or collapsing in on themselves, and Ted has to dodge his way around huge cracks in the pavement.

As though on autopilot, he mentally ticks off his regular sights as he passes.

There are the two hippos standing on either side of the entrance to a guesthouse, both of them painted gold. Ted has no idea of the story behind them but, as ever, is struck by the way they stand out from their surroundings.

Then there’s the statue of a minor prince—a younger son of George III—who was instrumental in developing the town. He’s dressed in military uniform and holding a sword but is bending his leg in a pose that Ted thinks is delightfully camp, as if he’s about to launch into a chorus of some show tune, complete with dance routine.

Finally, at the end of the road there is, of course, the sea—although from this vantage point only a thin strip of it is visible. And standing in front of it on a little traffic island is a huge flagpole, from which flies a Union Jack.

Yes, everything is exactly as it always is. Nothing has changed.

Except, at the same time, everything has changed. Everything’s different. Because Giles has left me.

For a moment, Ted misses his husband so badly he can barely draw breath. He comes to a stop in the middle of the pavement and leans on a wall to steady himself. He had no idea it was even possible to feel this sad. He still doesn’t think he’ll recover. He has no idea how he’ll ever regain his capacity to feel any positive emotion.

Before long Lily starts tugging at her lead again. He lumbers on.

Monday is Ted’s regular day off work, as he has to supervise the shop every Saturday, which is their busiest day of the week. Although he has mixed feelings about this, today he’s thankful as it means he can spend time on his own.

Yesterday, when he returned from his walk, Giles had already left the house. Almost immediately, Ted felt his absence as if it were pressing in on him, as if he could touch it—and he couldn’t avoid it.

He was still too shocked to cry, so he spent most of the day replaying the conversation they’d had in his head. When he was sick of that, he did a few household chores, tasks he could complete mechanically. And in the evening, he sat on the sofa and tried to watch TV, but Giles’s empty space next to him was too much to bear. So he gave up and did nothing. He just sat there, staring into space. And gradually, the sadness ground its way into his bones.

He drags himself to the end of the road, where stretching out before him is a vast expanse of turquoise sea and a golden, sandy beach. To his left is a row of grand Georgian hotels named after the dukes of Devonshire, Cumberland, and Clarence, each with a glass-fronted lounge in which pensioners are sitting sipping tea. Beyond them is the Victorian wrought iron pier, its thick, rusty legs thrusting up from the sand, an arcade at its entrance and a little funfair at its end. On Ted’s right—in the distance—is the old white windmill, the town’s most famous landmark, that welcomes visitors arriving from the north. Beyond that, only just about visible, is Blackpool Tower.

He stops at the traffic lights and presses the button to cross the road, Lily’s tail whipping out a beat on his legs.

It’s a brilliantly sunny spring day, and the sky is one block of bright blue, as though it’s been colored in with a felt-tip pen in a children’s picture book. The weather strikes Ted as inappropriately cheery, almost as if it’s trying to torment him. Overhead, a trio of seagulls squawk, swoop, and soar.

When the lights change, he crosses the road. On the other side, he cuts through a strip of ornamental gardens—stuffed with more bedding plants and some tropical-looking yuccas—and emerges onto the promenade. This is paved with red bricks, scattered with the occasional heap of sand washed over by the sea at high tide, and lined with railings that have been painted cobalt blue. After just a few paces, there’s a piece of public art that was commissioned just a few years ago; it’s meant to represent a woman emerging from the sea, a woman who embodies the spirit of the town. While it was being created, the inhabitants of St. Luke’s were promised their very own Angel of the North, and excitement built. But when the statue was finally unveiled, disappointment was expressed at the figure’s stocky frame, her unattractive features, and the sour look on her face. The editor of the local newspaper memorably described her as looking like “a menopausal dinner lady holding in a fart.” She’s always reminded Ted of his Auntie Brenda when she came out of the hospital after her hysterectomy.

He trudges on in the direction of the pier, passing several benches, some of them with little wooden shelters built around them. He notices that one of them has been dedicated to a man whose name is followed by the inscription, IF I DON’T DO IT, NOBODY ELSE WILL.

I wonder if Giles saw that . . . I wonder if he saw it when he was getting bored of his life with me.

He forces himself to keep walking.

As usual for a Monday morning, the only people Ted sees are fellow dog walkers—some of them jauntily swinging bags of poo—and the occasional jogger or cyclist. But everyone looks happy, and one or two people he recognizes smile at him or wish him good morning. There’s the man wearing a baseball cap and Jesus sandals who’s walking his Airedale terrier, and the wiry-looking woman who always goes running in the T-shirt of some foreign marathon she’s completed and still wears a thick cotton facemask. As he returns their waves, it occurs to Ted that none of them have any idea what he’s going through. This only makes him feel worse.

After a few hundred meters, he comes to the steps he usually takes down to the beach. As soon as he reaches the bottom, he lets Lily off her lead. She bounds off to explore, her tail wagging. Ted watches her leap over the dry sand and onto the damp, flat area leading down to the shoreline, at which point her paws create a trail of prints. He follows them toward the sea, towards the calming rhythm of the waves.

And Ted remembers that it was on another beach—on another sunny spring day—that Giles asked him to marry him.

Come on, spit it out!

Ted knew it was coming. But how long’s it going to take?

It was a glorious spring morning, and he and Giles were on holiday, staying in a farmhouse that had been converted into a hotel in the hills near Lucca, in Tuscany. They’d explored the local area, taking day trips to Pisa, Florence, and Siena, and spent several days relaxing by the hotel’s pool. In the evenings they’d enjoyed the local food and wine in friendly, unpretentious ristoranti, or al fresco on the hotel’s patio, overlooking a lush green valley. Then Giles had suggested they go for a drive to the nearby seaside town of Viareggio.

In itself, this wasn’t enough to arouse Ted’s suspicions, but he’d accidentally overheard Giles chatting to the woman who ran the hotel about packing a picnic—he’d told her it needed to be special. So Ted had peeped inside the basket and found a bottle of prosecco and two plastic glasses. This had prompted him to rummage further and, slotted in between some pecorino cheese and a packet of Tuscan prosciutto, he’d uncovered a ring box. He’d somehow managed to slot it back in without opening it but ever since had been buzzing with excitement.

When they arrived in Viareggio, they headed straight to the public beach—in between the private beach clubs—and managed to find a quiet spot. It was a weekday in April, so not too busy with tourists or locals. Even so, Ted didn’t want Giles to get down on one knee and propose only for some stranger to spoil it by shouting out a homophobic insult. Once he was satisfied they were safe, he spread out their blanket, and they sat down.

“Isn’t this ace?” gushed Ted. He gestured to the sapphire-blue Mediterranean and picked up a fistful of white sand, letting it run through his fingers.

A grin split Giles’s face. “Yeah, it’s beautiful. I’m really glad we came.”

Alright, now get on with it. Hit me with that proposal!

Evidently, Giles wanted to take his time. He made Ted sit through the entire meal, then struck up a conversation about what they’d like to do for the remainder of the holiday.

“Shall we check out the Cinque Terre?” he said. “It’s supposed to be the place to go. Or apparently there are some really cool art galleries in Pietrasanta. Oh, and didn’t somebody say that opera composer Puccini lived near here? Apparently his house is a museum.”

Stop banging on about opera and ask me to marry you!

Over Giles’s shoulder, Ted spotted a group of young men approaching. They were kicking around a football, shoving and shoulder-barging each other, and making low, growling noises. Oh, please don’t let them sit near us. Please don’t let them ruin our moment.

As he willed them to keep going, his heart cannoned in his chest. Thankfully, they walked past and continued towards the marina.

Right, let’s go . . .

“Actually, I’m glad we’ve got the beach to ourselves,” Giles said.

Ted’s stomach performed some kind of cartwheel. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“There’s something I want to ask you.” He paused to smooth out his hair and straighten the collar of his shirt.

Trust Giles to want to look perfect for his big moment. Ted didn’t know whether to scream with impatience or roll his eyes fondly. He settled on a smile and sat up expectantly.

Giles reached into the picnic basket and pulled out the ring box. He rose up onto one knee and opened it. After another pause—this one for dramatic purposes only—he looked at Ted and his grin crawled into his eyes.

“Ted Ainsworth,” he said, “will you marry me?”

Ted felt a tingle like an electric shock run up his spine.

In that moment, he forgot that he and Giles were even on a beach.

In that moment, he felt like they were the only people in the world.

In that moment, he felt a swell of happiness so strong he couldn’t imagine it would ever fade.

Back at St. Luke’s, Ted stands looking out to sea. As he twists his wedding ring around his finger, the memory of his happiness lodges like a barb in his chest.

How did we get from that to this?

It hadn’t helped that they weren’t able to travel for two years. Going on holiday was the shared activity they enjoyed most, something for which they saved all their spare money. But their plans were repeatedly thwarted by the series of COVID lockdowns, then the various travel restrictions, uncertainties, and last-minute changes to border policies. Not to mention the need for Ted to work—a need that was only exacerbated by the pandemic. For the first time in its nearly hundred-year history, Ainsworth’s was in crisis. As well as the original ice-cream parlor on the high street and two little kiosks on the seafront, Ted’s parents had expanded into a second shop in the Victorian arcade. They’d spent an extortionate amount of money fitting it out, but then, on the week it was due to open, the first lockdown was announced. His parents tried, but failed, to get out of their lease and were left saddled with a massive debt they were still struggling to repay as the shop had to be abandoned. When the tourists and day-trippers eventually started trickling back to St. Luke’s, Ted had to stick around and join the effort. “Family first” was his parents’ motto. As if I could ever forget.

Thankfully, Giles didn’t seem too bothered by Ted’s long shifts as he was also busy focusing on work—and his new job in Manchester. But it turns out that when they weren’t working and their holidays were taken away from them, what was left just wasn’t enough for Giles. Their relationship wasn’t enough. Ted wasn’t enough.

I’m never enough for anyone.

He steps back from the shore and continues sloping along the beach in the direction of the windmill. He passes a row of shops, beach cafés, seafood stalls and one of Ainsworth’s kiosks, all built into the foundations of the promenade—all of them closed at this time of day. Above them, a little further along, rises the town’s showpiece Art Deco bandstand, surrounding it a colonnade of viewing decks that’s also built into the promenade. Then, when the promenade comes to an end, an area of sand dunes springs up.

It’s at the foot of these that Lily stops to curl out her usual turd. When she’s finished, Ted stoops to bag it up and tosses it into a nearby bin. He tries not to remember the first time Giles attempted to pick up her waste but couldn’t go through with it. He never tried again and Ted would sometimes complain about it. Oh, to be able to complain about it now.

He lets out a ragged sigh. “Oh, Lily, I miss your daddy.”

What he doesn’t tell her is that he has no idea how he’s going to cope without him. He’ll miss the rhythm of their life together. Making Giles his coffee and setting it down next to his bed every morning. Texting him to ask what he’s had for lunch so he doesn’t make the same thing for tea. Spending hours making his favorite meals then seeing his face light up as he sits down and tucks in.

He’ll also miss the banter that filled so much of their time together. Offering to drive whenever they set out on a journey, only for Giles to joke that he wants t