by Posy Roberts
Analog to Digital
By Posy Roberts
For years, Ethan and Toby have said they’ll never marry, despite Ethan’s secret wishes. So leaving sunny California for snowy Minnesota to witness his sister’s vow renewal is not how he wants to spend his Christmas Eve. It’s the second time she’ll say “I do” in less than a year, when Ethan saying those words to Toby even once is hopeless.
In the run-up to the ceremony, Toby seems to avoid Ethan, and doubts grow in his absence. Ethan can’t help noticing Toby spends more time with Ethan’s family than with him. Little does Ethan know, Toby has desires of his own. But if Toby doesn’t find a way to reveal them, Ethan could leave for home without him.
Table of Contents
Blurb
Text
About the Author
By Posy Roberts
Visit Dreamspinner Press
Copyright
LOOKING UP from the doodle I’d started on a cocktail napkin, I ordered. “Surly Furious. Two, please.” It was the beer I’d begged my sister to ship to me from back home. I wanted to give my employees a taste of Minnesota, even if they relentlessly teased me about my accent and “unfathomable” work ethic. I didn’t end up owner of a top-rated design house by the time I was in my midtwenties by phoning it in, so I never let their jibes bother me much.
The server reached for glasses after cracking each large can with a pfft and pfft, but I waved him off. “We’ll drink ’em right from the can, thanks.”
“Certainly.”
I slipped a ten in his tip jar and turned to the center of the distinctive ballroom, where people were dancing. His thanks trailed after me as I made my way over to Toby, who looked ready to blend into the leather couch while the room buzzed around him.
I pressed the chilled beer into his warm palm. “Here. This is the one I told you about.”
He took a sip and looked at me with dark eyes before taking another few swallows. He smiled when he finally set the can down. “It’s good. Real good.”
“Told ya.” I leaned in and kissed the beer foam that clung to his mustache. His beard brushed my chin, and as much as I wanted to get lost in his kisses, I was there as the boss tonight and couldn’t really let go like I wanted.
“Look at you two! So in love.” Stella, my right-hand and necessary coconspirator in most projects, plopped herself in the chair next to me and sipped at a neon-pink drink garnished with at least three fruit kabobs. Her eclectic style, mostly latent punk rocker meets Vargas pinup girl, was in full bloom. She would’ve fit perfectly on the nose of an Air Force plane or at any dance club in the city.
I smiled at her as I leaned against Toby’s shoulder. The sparkle in her lined eyes made what she was about to ask obvious.
“When are you two going to finally tie the knot?”
“We’re not,” Toby said without a second’s hesitation.
I crossed my feet at the ankles to ward off any evil as I lied through my teeth. “It’s not something either of us has ever wanted. No need to be tied down to a person. God knows I’m tied down by enough strings to this business, which grows busier by the day.”
Stella studied me out of the corner of her eye, skeptical. I talked shop to shake her focus, discussing a few looming projects and also a couple leads for the new year that I’d just learned about that afternoon. Toby stood, clearly feeling pushed out of the conversation, and made his way around the art deco space I’d rented to host this shindig. As I mindlessly droned on about the numerous projects that had to be wrapped up before Christmas, a little more than a week away, I watched Toby.
He was tall and muscular, dark-haired with a drop-dead smile that could turn the stodgiest person’s knees to jelly. For this party he’d trimmed his often-scraggly beard, and he wore a crisp, white dress shirt, as well. He’d rather be wearing jeans and a flannel, scruffy work boots, and getting his hands dirty restoring some elaborate piece of furniture he saved from being turned into firewood or slathered with polyurethane or paint. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as he meandered around the room that oozed history, if one knew where to look. He did. He moved from one detail to another, the architectural minutiae around the space fascinating him. His interest was obvious not only to me, because Stella asked, “He’s often lost in the little things, isn’t he?”
I shrugged and took a long pull from my beer. “He loves old stuff. He sees beauty in decay and what most of us would toss out.”
“Well, for your sake, I hope he realizes you’re worth keeping around before you start to decay. And he might need to ‘invest’ more in your life together than monthly rent and a new shirt.”
“Stop.” I shook my head and took a steadying breath, making sure my ankles were still crossed. “Just because you’re happy in the newlywed stage doesn’t mean you need to make it your mission to get everyone around you married. We’re good the way we are. We don’t need anything more to prove to the world we love each other.”
She laid her hand on my forearm and looked at me with earnest eyes. “I didn’t say a thing about proving your love to the world. What about him proving his love to you?”
I didn’t have an answer for her aside from allowing my attention to go back to the man I loved. It wasn’t like I could tell her about our spectacular sex life, where he proved again and again how much he loved me. Or describe the way he kissed me. Words wouldn’t do either of those things justice, and just because he was reserved in public didn’t mean he wasn’t expressive at home.
Toby stood in the corner, forcing grins and nods as people engaged him. Small talk was something he struggled with unless he was talking antiques. Then he could go on for hours. I knew I had to rescue him.
Stella squeezed my arm and gave me a sad smile before walking to the dance floor.
“WE’RE ALL set.” Toby strode across the living room and collapsed in his favorite chair, exhausted from his intense day at work, if the way his arms and legs flopped like overcooked noodles said anything. He slowly let go of the pile of letters he’d gripped in his palm and allowed them to tumble onto the side table.
I didn’t know what we were set for, but I was sure he would tell me as soon as he had a few moments to recover. I walked over and picked up the mail to sort through it. As expected, there were numerous Christmas and Hanukkah cards from our various friends, some with photos of recent weddings or new babies. Three thick envelopes made of expensive paper told me they were wedding invitations without opening them. The names of the happy couples penned as the senders in elaborate calligraphy made me want to avoid the pile altogether, so I dropped it to the table again.
“Rough day?” I massaged his scalp, and he practically purred. “You look like someone put you through the wringer.”
Toby sighed. “Not really, aside from some guy trying to pay me half of what he agreed to when he picked up his restored treadle sewing machine. And I even got the thing to sew beautifully again too. He eventually paid. I’m never doing work for him again, though.” He moaned and let out a weary sigh. “But really, I didn’t sleep well last night. Haven’t been sleeping well at all lately.”
“I’ve noticed. You toss and turn. What’s up?”
He looked at me and shrugged. “No clue. I think I need a vacation, and that’s finally gonna happen.” A small smile spread across his face until his eyes no longer looked so tired.
“What are you talking about?”
“Early Christmas present.” He leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. “I bought us plane tickets so you don’t have to miss your sister’s vow renewal.”
“What?” My mind whirled to all the projects due before the forced days off over the holiday break. “I can’t. I don’t have time to leave. Not now. Unless you’re al
so gifting me the miracle of extra days.”
“We’re going, Ethan. We need to. We can’t miss this.”
I shook my head. “No. We’re not going.”
“Yes, we are.”
I sat heavily on the couch and speared my fingers through my hair, wincing when a few tangled curls were pulled. He looked smug, accomplished in his surprise and spontaneity—Toby didn’t do spontaneous. Ever. But I didn’t let that deter me. “Why on earth would we go up to the tundra of frozen lakes when we have perfect weather here? I don’t have a winter coat anymore, you realize.”
“And you’re going to let that tiny detail keep you here?” Toby’s mouth curled into a mischievous grin as he stood and moved to straddle my thighs. I made a show of grunting when he settled on my lap. “You know you want to go.” He trailed his fingers across my neck and over my chest, thumbing lazy circles around my nipples like he was unaware of what he was doing. “You’ve talked about how much you miss snow every Christmas we’ve been together. You had fricking Minnesota beer shipped in for the holiday party. You’re homesick. I can tell. It’s been too long since you’ve been back in the winter.”
I pushed out my bottom lip in a dramatic pout and gave him my best puppy-dog eyes, but I could see by the way he looked at me, he wasn’t buying my nonverbal protest. Instead, he pulled me in to press a sweet kiss to my mouth before tugging my bottom lip between his teeth.
“But we were there at her wedding,” I grumbled. “She’s been married less than a year, and she’s already renewing her vows? What kind of thing is that?”
Toby shook his head, brushing his nose against the tip of mine with each move. “You know why.”
I did. Gigi and Blake had a whirlwind romance, and at some flower festival outside of San Diego last spring, they decided to get married. Toby and I stood up for them on the beach, listening to their “made up on the spot” vows as the sun set over the ocean. I imagined what I would say to Toby if we ever had an off-the-cuff ceremony like that. But Toby didn’t do off the cuff.
It had been a beautiful but very sparse ceremony, with only the four of us and the officiant, no other family or friends. I knew their vow renewal was happening more for the benefit of everyone else in their lives since they hadn’t been given the opportunity to be there. I’d made our excuses, using my hectic project deadlines to explain our absence, which Gigi had fully accepted. But now this?
“You’re jealous,” Toby accused.
“Am not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re jealous that she gets two weddings and you haven’t even had one.”
“Pssshht.” I crossed my fingers behind Tony’s back. “Not true. You know I don’t need some stupid piece of paper and a pompous ceremony to justify and sanction our relationship.”
Toby nodded his way in for another kiss, which I easily accepted and deepened. Despite how tired Toby had initially seemed, he made quick work of pushing my fly open, yanking my pants off, kneeling on the floor, and sucking me down. Less than ten minutes later, I returned the favor, leaving him so relaxed he could barely keep his eyes open.
This kind of spontaneous Toby did, I mentally amended as we floated in our mutual afterglow. Toby reached for my hand, seemingly unwilling to be disconnected.
When he shifted to lean over me, supported on an elbow, he asked, “So you’ll come to Minnesota with me?”
“If I must, but I’m not guaranteeing I’ll be in a festive mood. Unless… will you buy me a new coat?”
Toby rolled his eyes and chuckled as he stood. “You mean on top of flying you home to be with your family for Christmas?”
“Yep.”
He held out his hand and tugged me to my feet. “Sure. If that’s what it takes.”
AS WE made our way through the airport, I gave myself a pep talk that mirrored some of the words Toby had said to me over the last days whenever I grumbled about this trip.
I haven’t been home at Christmas for ages. My parents will be thrilled. Gigi will be giddy. I’m going to have a good time. I can eat all the comfort food I’ve missed over the years. And I’ll be happy for Gigi and Blake, no matter how over-the-top I think a vow renewal is when they haven’t been married a year yet.
And somehow I’ll get all my work done and find time to relax.
I caught my reflection in the glass walls at the Minneapolis airport and noticed my scowl. I tried to temper it and turned to look at Toby after I stepped on the down escalator.
He smiled at me. “You look really good in that new coat.”
“Thanks.” I pulled the collar snugger and then shoved my hands in the generous pockets, where I ensured the small box I’d tucked away was still there. Thankfully they were so deep I hadn’t needed to bother with a carry-on, aside from my laptop. Toby fished out my hand and held it in his as we followed the signs to baggage claim, and once there, he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.
“Thanks for accepting this gift,” he whispered. “It means a lot to me.”
I studied him. He wasn’t usually this… verbally expressive, and I was about to ask him if something was wrong when the baggage carousel whirred to life, startling me. Skis, suitcases, wrapped packages, and even a crossbow were pushed around the curves and straightaways of the conveyer belt.
“Only in Minnesota,” I said to Toby in a low voice as I pointed to three hockey sticks taped together with what looked like kinesiology tape.
“I doubt that. I bet anywhere there’s snow and ice, we’d see that this time of year.”
I shrugged, giving him the point just as our huge shared suitcase slid into view. It was white and covered in hundreds of my doodles that made it clearly recognizable as ours. He reached for it and hefted the heavy thing like it weighed ten pounds, but I knew it was closer to sixty.
“Let’s go.” He rolled the suitcase down the hall and rode up the escalator. I followed.
“Car rental? Cab?”
“Nope. Your mom is meeting us outside.”
Up on street level, Toby pointed at the window, and there she was, standing near the back end of her SUV. Mom looked the same as ever: spiked, graying blonde hair and a slim build. It was obvious I belonged to her, minus the hair, since mine lacked the gray and was wavy, more like Dad’s, back when he had hair. As we walked outside, she smiled big as life and waved.
“So good to see you both.” She first kissed Toby on his furred cheek, giving his chin a quick squeeze, and then me. When I pulled away from her embrace, she pinched my cheek and then wiped at it, probably getting rid of a smear of the faint pink lipstick she wore. “We’re going to have so much fun. I baked and made all your old favorites, Ethan.”
“I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.” I rolled the suitcase off the curb, but Toby took it from me, lifting it into the back end, since he was built like an ox compared to my gazelle frame.
“Of course I went to the trouble! It’s the first time you’re home for the holidays since this guy came into your life.” She gave Toby a hug that looked more like an apology for her subtle blaming of him for my absence.
“I don’t have a ton of free time, Mom.” I smiled at her, but she was shaking her head. “I have several projects due before Christmas Day.”
“You work too hard,” she said, and the way Toby eyed me, I knew he agreed.
“If I want the business to be a success—”
“I baked Nana Heim’s almond cookie recipe that you love so much, Ethan. Do you like almond, Toby?”
“Yes, especially in shortbread cookies.”
“Oh good.” She patted Toby’s forearm. “It’s a shortbread base.”
“As long as there’s lefse, that’s all I ask,” I said.
She nodded, and Toby slammed the cargo door shut. “Of course there is. What sort of Christmas would it be without lefse?”
Toby eyed me, and his mouth quirked, beard shifting to make the move more noticeable. This was his skeptical face. He’d never eaten the Norwegian flatbread, but he’d heard me go
on about how good it was when made the Heim way.
We hopped in the SUV, Toby in front and me in the back, and Mom took off toward home. I grew up a block from Lake of the Isles, where I played hockey on the frozen lake during the winter and rode my bike around the trails the rest of the year. Toby had been to Minneapolis with me before but never when there was snow on the ground. Considering he grew up in Southern California and had only seen snow up close when skiing up in Tahoe, he was like a kid in a candy store as Mom drove.
Mom gushed at his excitement and put on her tour guide hat, pointing out various landmarks and places of interest: Minneapolis Institute of Art, the Walker Art Center, places I loved to visit as a kid. As we got closer to home, she pointed out the house a few doors down where The Mary Tyler Moore Show exterior was shot.
“You never told me about the Mary Tyler Moore house,” Toby accused as he looked over his shoulder at me.
“Yes, I did,” I argued right back. “I told you on our second or third date when we had that huge discussion about the six degrees of fame or whatever. This is as close as I could get, unlike you.” I reached over his seat and playfully shoved his shoulder. He’d grown up around actors, directors, and movie producers and spent a lot of time on film sets where his dad worked as a set dresser. His entire childhood had prepared him for his life as an antiques appraiser and restorer rather than as the actor his father had hoped he’d become.
While I had been enamored with how many actors and actresses he’d met growing up, even having his photo taken with many, he wasn’t at all impressed. Yet here he was dazzled by the house that had barely shown up in the opening credits of a 1970s sitcom he probably never even watched on Nick at Nite.
Toby was always surprising me. His bohemian childhood suggested he would’ve grown into a fun-loving, easygoing guy rather than the serious and reserved person he was. He preferred an organized life categorized by historical eras, period furniture, and art movements. My parents’ neighborhood, graced with Victorians, Craftsman bungalows, and even a few homes from the Prairie School, could keep him entertained for hours.
