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False Accusation, Your Honor

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Simon

What a day. I’m fucking knackered. My shoulders feel heavy as I unlock the door. Bath, wine, Baz. That should do it.

The house is dark and quiet when I walk in. Normally Baz is home first, bustling in the kitchen with a glass of wine and whatever he deems worthy to throw together to eat. Some nights it’s an elaborate five course soiree for two, other nights it’s cheese and crackers.

“Baz?” I call out.

Nothing. I mentally flip through our calendar. I don’t recall any engagements. Fiona usually gets him sozzled on Fridays, and they met up last week. Dev and Niall are in Italy until Monday. Book club is at the end of the month. I still don’t get why he loves hanging out with all those old ladies. He says they’re a hoot and the life experience they bring to the stories is fascinating. I think it’s because they dote on him and won’t shut up about how handsome he is. (I may or may not surreptitiously listen in when he hosts.)

When I wander into the lounge, a single lamp snaps on, illuminating Baz. It scares the hell out of me. He’s sitting in an armchair. One leg crossed over the other. The black look on his face takes me right back to those Watford years, when we hated each other.

“What the fuck, Baz.”

He uncrosses his legs. Crosses them the other way. His hands are clasped in his lap. His hair is slicked back. He looks like a super-hot mob boss. “Snow.” He looks down his nose at me.

Am I in a parallel universe? I am so not in the mood for a parallel universe today.

I cross my arms. “Baz?”

The lamp has an LED bulb. Baz insisted that we swap out all the bulbs to save the planet. So, Baz is cast in a sickly bluish light, that makes him look a little more undead than usual. Not that he’s dead at all, but.

“Did you eat the last slice of cheesecake?”

I uncross my arms. “What?”

“Cheesecake. Dulce de Leche. The one you had shipped in for my birthday.” The cat weaves between Baz’s legs and looks at me accusingly.

“Have you lost your mind?” What the fuck is happening right now.?

“My cheesecake is gone, Snow. I need to know if you ate it.”

“You have got to be kidding me, Baz. Of course, I didn’t eat your bloody cheesecake. You’ve threatened to drain me, Penny, and the cat if we so much as thought about taking a bite.”

“Well, where did it go then, Snow? There was one piece left. I came home early today to savor it.” He levels his grey stare at me.

“You are off your knob, Baz. It wasn’t me.” I turn and march to the kitchen. That cheesecake has been there for over a week, he’s been eating one slice a day. I had to move hell and high water to get it flown in from the Cheesecake Factory. I didn’t touch it. I don’t even like cheesecake. (I mean, it’s fine. Just a bit gummy.)

I open the refrigerator and start rifling. Nothing on the shelves. On a whim, I open the vegetable drawer. There, safely entombed in sensible plastic storageware, between the watercress and the carrots, is the piece of cheesecake.

“It’s right here you utter pillock.” I shout.

“What?” Baz slides into the kitchen. He’s wearing a purple suit with green lining. Going for the full villain look, apparently.

I wave the Tupperware in his face. “It was in the vegetable drawer.”

Baz’s eyes widen and he goes a pinker shade of pale. “Oh.”

I lean on the counter and raise my brows at him.

“I may, or may not have hidden it there. For safekeeping.” He admits. Cringing handsomely. He reaches for the cheesecake. I pull it away.

“I definitely deserve a very heartfelt apology, Basilton.”

Baz gives me his Sexy Vampire Look.

“Uh uh,” I say, holding my finger to his face. “I’m not falling for the Sexy Vampire Look.”

Baz sighs. “I’m very sorry I’ve falsely accused you of cheesecake theft, my love. Will you please forgive me and give me my fucking cheesecake?”

I step into his space and lift up to kiss his cheek. “Yes, dear. Here’s your fucking cheesecake.”

He takes it. Kisses me back.

“Do you want to share?” Baz says as he sits on the counter and pops the lid.

“Sure.” I say. “I’ll get the wine.”